Dark Adaptation
by Hickok
Summary: NEW CONTENT ADDED! Bound to the eternal contract, can a life of sin be so easily shed? Muraki has all that he desires, yet so much remains unanswered. What manner of darkness unfurled between the walls of Muraki manor? Muraki x Tsuzuki and Oriya x Watari
1. Watari: A brief recap before we continue

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Descendants of Darkness (Yami no matsuei to all you adamant Japanese nuts) belongs to... people whom are not me. Therefore establishing that Descendant's of Darkness, does not belong to me. What a shame. Because I like money. And bishounen. And if I owned Descendant's of Darkness, I would thus own _both _money and bishounen. I guess some dreams are just not meant to come true.

**Note: **Hello, weary readers! I am the helpful narrator; a nameless voice that will guide you through this all new version of DA; which I like to refer to as DA: Deluxe! XD

As of February 2009, all the original chapters of DA have undergone a dramatic facelift. This first chapter marks the beginning of this long process. Much of the original chapter content remains but has been altered to suit my current style of writing and many additions that weren't present in the year I began writing this story. Since Yami is set in Japan, the name references, manner of speech and so forth, will be true to the Japanese culture, as _much _as I am capable of. (For example; instead of 'Mr. Tsuzuki', Muraki addresses him now as 'Tsuzuki-san'.) Additionally, a number of additional scenes have been added, though not in this first chapter so much. Instead of following on from the anime, this fanfiction is faithful to the events and characterizations of the manga, with respect to its' esteemed creator Yoko Matsushita. There might indeed be references to some events that transpired in the anime and that would be because I feel that they add to the overall story, rather than take away from it. But in general, readers should look at this as continuing on from the manga.

Through this process, I hope to tell a better, more engaging story. I'm very excited to be presenting these new and hopefully improved chapters of DA to you my lovely readers and I can only hope that you enjoy them as much as I have enjoyed writing them.

And of course the traditional warnings. Like most Yami no Matsuei fanfics, this story takes place post-Gensoukai arc. (Hisoka and Tsuzuki in the Shikigami world, Tatsumi and Watari investigating the Kurosaki family.) The pairings are Muraki/Tsuzuki and Oriya/Watari, as well as a number of other minor pairings that occur throughout the story.

I offer a warning now to all those younger readers that much of the material that appears in this story is… not particularly nice. (Goddammit, as a writer you would _think _I could come up with the right word for that particular sentence, wouldn't you?) _Dark Adaptation _contains course language, supernatural horror, gore, violence, thermonuclear yaoi, (male/male relationships) the suggestion of incest and oh, possibly a few sexist and religious comments here and there, just to make sure I offend as many people as possible. If you don't like any of these things, then I would suggest reading no further.

**Watari: **You make it sound so menacing…

**Tsuzuki: **Don't interrupt her, she's doing her pretentious new intro! She's trying to sound _smart_.

**Hickok: **Guys, go away! You're ruining my ominous sounding lead-in! Now no one is going to take my scary story seriously!

**Watari: **Whatever! Can we just get to the man-loving already? Whose got the remote?

**Saki: **I do! (Waves remote around) I was just taping a cooking show. Hold on, I'll switch the television to the AV channel! (Pushes button, television turns off)

**Tsuzuki: **Saki!

**Saki: **Muraki did it.

**Muraki: **Oh sure, blame _me _for everything!

**Saki: **Turnabout's fair play, Zuta-chan. Didn't anyone ever tell ya that? (Turns t.v back on, accidentally changes channels.) Oooh look! Cardcaptor Sakura's on!

**Hisoka: **Saki, give me the remote before you break something.

**Hickok: **It's not a DVD you guys. It's a STORY. You know… one of those things you read.

**Tsuzuki: **Reading's hard! Especially when there are no pictures! Why can't this be a manga instead of a fanfic?

**Hickok: **One; coz I can't draw all that well and two because I'm _not _the original writer of the series! All I can produce is a fanfic.

**Tatsumi: **We could make more money if we sold the rights to a television company and they produced a five part mini series. Stock options, people!

**Hickok: **Again; I don't actually _own _this. I could get sued here guys! And being sued definitely means that if you didn't have much money to start with, you most _certainly _will not have much money afterwards.

**Tsuzuki: **If this becomes a TV series, I totally wanna be played by Gackt! And Hisoka can be played by that guy from Twilight!

**Hisoka: **Oh, for the love of-

**Saki: **(Accidentally fast-forwards too far) Whoops! My fault… now we know how it ends!

**Hickok: **You're yards ahead of me then.

**Oriya: **(Looking at screen) Holy shit… I am _so _not looking forward to that.

**Tsuzuki: **Why? What happens to us?

**Hickok: **(Turns T.V off) You guys don't get to find out that easy! Just go ahead and read the story.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

_**In matter's relating to the world of the dead, there is an institution that judges the sins of the deceased…**_

_**The Ministry of Hades.**_

_**The Summons Section of the Judgment Bureau comprises a group supporting the ministry's operating functions by guiding the lost souls that wander the mortal world.**_

_**They are also know as the Guardian's of Death.**_

_**Yami no Matsuei:**_

_**Dark Adaptation**_

_**~ X ~**_

_Deep inside, locked behind its' wavering gaze_

_The porcelain moon shatters leaving nothing but a stain_

_x_

_The brilliant world has descended into the darkness without a sound_

_The seconds are counting down as we fumble blindly in the dark_

_Speak not so predominantly, the new time is here now_

_x_

_Injured black wings puncture through angels quills_

_Glimmer beautifully then are still_

_They're rising upward in a beautiful dance_

_Soaring in the light of the moon_

_x_

_Now, the crimson kiss flows deeply into the heart,_

_Penetrating into one's dreams,_

_Leaving nothing behind but the broken shards_

_x_

_The sky sinks away, now nothing else remains_

_Prayers wind upwards soullessly in a final requiem_

_Hear now the hearts solace in refrain_

_x_

_Destined to walk forever, I'll keep wandering to meet that end_

_Searching for the entirety of that dream, come now and meet me at my Eden_

_x_

_Injured black wings puncture through angels quills_

_Glimmer beautifully then are still_

_They're rising upward in a beautiful dance_

_Soaring in the light of the moon_

_x_

_Now, the crimson kiss flows deeply into the heart,_

_Penetrating into one's dreams,_

_Leaving nothing behind but the broken shards_

"_**My Eden"**__ – To Destination_

_**~ X ~**_

_**Dark Adaptation**_ Def: _"The process by which our eyes adjust to a low level of illumination and become more sensitive to light. Dark adaptation is experienced when we go from a place with a high level of light intensity to a place with a low level of light intensity in a relatively short period of time." (Psychology – Grivas and Carter 2000)_

x

"_Driving down the wrong road and knowing it,  
The fork years behind, how many have thought  
To pull up on the shoulder and leave the car  
Empty, strike out across the fields; and how many  
Are still mazed among dock and thistle,  
Seeking the road they should have taken?"  
_~Damon Knight, _The Man in the Tree_, 1984

~x~

**A Brief Recap before we Continue**

**Watari**

_Oh Lordy._

Those were the first words that popped into my head, the moment the burlap bag was lifted from my face and light flooded my senses. I did a quick calculation of my condition and was surprised to find that I was still able to feel the contusion on the crown of my head, not to mention the grazes to both my knees and dull bruising across my shoulders. My healing factor would have ordinarily taken care of that in a jiffy. The only explanation I could fathom was that a restraint of considerable _mana _energy had been placed upon me, constricting my Shinigami powers. Which didn't really affect me all that greatly in my present condition. It was more an irritation than anything. However, it would definitely become a hindrance later were I to suffer more damaging injuries.

Or a hangover. My healing factor isn't generous enough to assist me in dealing with _that_ little quandary.

So, regardless of the resounding throb from my skull and the smug dancing disco lights pervading my sight, I was relieved to find that I had not been completely screwed by whomever had done this to me. And no, this is no reference to the state of my posterior thankyou. I am directing your captive attention to the fact that my corrective lenses were safe. Crooked, snagged in the length of wavy blond hair tucked behind one ear no doubt likely to cause me much grief in disentangling later, but present and accounted for.

So a brief recap before we continue: I had no idea where I was. On the bright side, I was awake; my head was no longer in a scratchy musty old bag with the distinguishable scent of chloroform lingering about my nasal passages. My glasses were on, my hair now cropped about my ears (I'll get to that later) was out of my face and for once in my eternal afterlife I was grateful to find that I was not naked. My perception of everything around me rang clearly like a gong struck by a baton: swift and lingering. My somewhat lackadaisical reflexes coiled into compressed springboard energy. I was a cat about to pounce! I was an owl preparing to swoop down on an unsuspecting rodent and ensnare that squealing life between my talons.

And I was off!

Only I didn't seem to be going anywhere.

If I had truly been in my noble state of mind at the moment of my revival, I would have noticed the constriction surrounding my wrists. Something sharp and cold, the essence of silver digging in altogether too tightly on the prominent wrist bone. I'd often condemned myself in life for my weak wrists. _Weak joints _in general, which probably explains why I never made an esteemed field operative in Guardian duties. You tend to get laughed at a lot (not to mention significant numbers are docked from your pay) when you attempt to run from a fatal demonic attack and slip on a perfectly good piece of cement, twisting your ankle, forcing you to cry for your partner to carry you to safety. Usually a girls' complaint in horror movies I'm told.

I guess the point I'm trying to establish, is that I was in a right swell jam. I had _handcuffs _around my wrists. Handcuffs I ask you! I, Yutaka Watari, am not one to be restrained by the mortal inflection of criminal steel application! I am a _Shinigami_!

Yet all my internal posturing and immortal glory did little to assist my weak wrists in the task of snapping the chain of the cuffs and sprinting to safety, tossing a well deserved raspberry over my shoulder as I went. No, Shinigami or not I was indisputably, out of commission.

And what really infuriated me at that moment was not the rough, disrespectful treatment, _oh no._ Let them manhandle me, let them shove my head in a bag and crack me on the back of the skull when I'm quietly trying to break into their headquarters and expose them for murder, rape, kidnapping and political interference in the demonic hierarchy. Come what may, if I deserve it, I deserve it.

But no one deserves to look a mess when they're being held against their will. _Ingrates._ If I was going to be captured and tortured at the expense of the entire Judgment Bureau, _fine. _But the least they could do was let me look good. Or comb my hair. It was even harder to maintain now then it was when it was long!

I glanced to the side, ignoring the dull throb to my cranium as the figure that had been kneeling beside me, was relieved of his burlap burden also. Oriya Mibu inhaled desperately as the bag was pulled away, possessing that natural mortal hunger for oxygen. He shook his head briefly, hair that used to be as long as my own and as dark as dogs' eyes, now cut in short jagged barbs that framed his perfectly symmetrical features, whilst still managing to compliment them. Unlike me, he had a large purplish contusion to the left side of his face. He'd had time to face our attacker at least. But me and my weak wrists had gone down without a fight.

Typical.

Oriya distributed a rather maidenly sigh as he took in our situation. Like me, he was bound at the wrists, the samurai sword he'd held sanctioned to his wide hips, nowhere in sight. Obviously it had been removed from his good graces in case he thought to use it to relieve us of this disagreeable situation. I could feel the floor vibrating slightly beneath my knees and when I looked forward, opposite where we were seating, I could see the backs of pilot and co-pilot seats.

We were in a helicopter. A military helicopter at that, judging by the broad space in the back where the soldiers were designated positions against the wall. We were being transported somewhere and under strict, flattering security. But I'll get to that in a minute.

Oriya winced a little as he too registered the sharp whiplash of his injury through his skull. Attempting to lighten the mood a little, I caught his eye and gave a cheerful wink, trying to cock my head to the side and look as Tsuzuki-ishly cute as possible. It always comes much easier to my co-worker then it does to me.

"Lovely day for an abduction, isn't it?" I asked conversationally. Oriya stared back at me as though I had taken leave of my senses and I started to back pedal, thinking he wouldn't appreciate my sense of humor in a situation like this. But then, much to my relief, he cracked a grin.

"Nothing gets you down, does it?" He asked rhetorically, knowing the answer without my even saying a word. I always try to look for the best in every situation, even when I recognize full well the negative foresights and consequences. Oriya by now knew me well enough to understand this.

For some reason, that thought made me very happy and I offered him another smile. Nothing out of my pay packet.

"Smiles are free." I said spunkily, the nicest way of saying 'No duh' to someone I had really taken a fancy to.

That? Well it's a long story...

Oriya sighed again and started to relax, allowing his back to touch the wall of the helicopter. His prominent shoulder blades provided an odd counter balance and prevented his hands from being uncomfortably wedged into his lower waist. I leant forward a little to see around him and noticed our other two companions still had their heads bound up.

The child whom had released me, (Not a one of our captives, not even the pilot appeared to be much older than nine or ten) stepped up beside the individual closest to Oriya and abruptly tugged the bag from his head. Tsuzuki emerged gasping for air like some dumb dolphin that had forgotten how to breathe. His shaggy black hair was ruffled characteristically and his violet eyes quickly swiveled to peruse the boy who had rudely saved him from drowning in the burlap bag. That Tsuzuki; no appreciation what so ever.

Our captor, or at least one of them, ignored his baleful, 'I'm-gonna-knobble-you-good' glare and moved onto our forth resident. Sitting up on his knees, very straight and barely moving an inch with the intake of every musty breath. In fact, it came as no surprise to me that Kazutaka Muraki's eyes were staring directly at the boy who removed his bag and that he didn't even inhale on the air as it rushed forth to greet him. Our captor couldn't help but gasp a little, seeing Muraki's abnormal silver and blue stare focusing on him as though he'd been watching him purposefully _through _the bag before it's removal. As though it hadn't been a hindrance in scrutinizing his surroundings.

And that stare... If Tsuzuki's was 'I'm-going-to-knobble-you-good', then Muraki's could be defined as 'I'm going to knobble you good, then I'm going to go to your house and knobble your whole family, sleep with your Mom, drown your cat, drink your Chocolate Milk and burn the place to the ground.' It was cool countenance. Arrogant disinterest. _'You've got me tied up for now,'_ he seemed to be saying. _'But you won't for long. I'll bide my time._'

And though he was here, assisting us in a manner of speaking, it was Muraki who still disturbed me the most. More so than those holding us. I was just glad he was on our side for once.

The boy gathered our collective bags and left, moving towards the front of the helicopter. Tsuzuki coughed a little and glanced at me, amethyst eyes wide in silent question. Silent _questions, _for there was not but one that could have covered all the confusion he and I both were feeling at that moment. And Oriya too. Muraki? Who knew? The man never seemed fazed by anything and now was to be no exception.

Tsuzuki bit his lip a little as though he'd only just observed the lingering pain from any one of his wounds that had long since failed to heal. His eyes met mine.

"Our powers seem to be useless here..." He mumbled, flexing his fists in the constriction of the handcuffs, testing their strength. "It's almost as though there's some sort of barrier between my consciousness and my spiritual energy. ... Dammit!"

I nodded understandably. I too could sense that unsurpassable wall stretched over my spiritual mentality, as though this figurative blanket had somehow lulled the mana within me, to sleep. It was unresponsive to any of my mental probes. "Well it comes as no surprise really. It seems obvious, given the nature of who we are dealing with, that these 'children' must have various methods in order to restrain supernatural beings from accessing their powers. Otherwise they'd be unable to secure their own safety, no?"

The dark haired Shinigami muttered his agreement, inhaling sharply as though restraining a cloud of pent up aggression and frustration. It was interesting to see Tsuzuki this way; he was usually as goofy and laid back as I was. I suppose there are such things as being pushed to the edge of one's limit. And it seemed that Tsuzuki was teetering on the end of his, balancing on the tip of a knife blade so to speak. Precariously tilting either way would be more than enough to overthrow him into a deep pool of uncertainty and fear from which he would be unable to surface.

No? Ah well, call it the poet in me.

Tsuzuki looked at each of our faces in turn, expression softening as he met Muraki's intense gaze for a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. He heaved a little sigh.

"Well, on the positive side of things, at least Hisoka and the others managed to make it out!" He grinned determinedly, hope restored in those wide amethyst eyes. At the mention of the kid's name, I noticed the doctor bridle a little, a slight shiver cascading along those broad shoulders like a cat bristling its' fur in a cold wind. The mention of Hisoka's name clearly provoked some level of disconcertment in him, which I could only assume surmounted to jealousy on his behalf. Perhaps to him the kid represented nothing more than a rival for Tsuzuki's attention. As quickly as the action occurred it was gone and Muraki was simply staring off into space again as though nothing had happened.

"So... any idea where we're heading?" Oriya finally conceded to asking the question that was on all our minds. I wished I could have answered it and astounded him with my vast pool of knowledge, but for once I had to surrender my powerful logic to a typical, blond stereotype response.

"Beats me! I don't know about you guys, but I took a nice little detour through the fascinating world of the interior burlap bag and missed the lecture regarding our final destination. A sacrifice, but well worth it to see dust mites in their natural habitat."

"You geeky idiot." Oriya said, clearly praising me affectionately for my superior sense of humor and ability to lighten an otherwise dull mood. "Unfortunately, I'm as clueless as this dippy blond. Seems I was unconscious for too long to overhear anything useful."

"Dippy blond... now that's something you haven't called me in bed before!" I said brightly.

Oriya flashed me a look of love and adoration. "Don't think these handcuffs will stop me from finding a way to hurt you, cupcake."

I cut short my well-deserved pun about how he had a lot of practice escaping from handcuffs and just settled for an innocent looking smile. He tutted in return and glanced over at Tsuzuki and Muraki, his expression asking whether or not they had managed to figure out anything useful.

Tsuzuki met my gaze and sighed irritably, response enough to establish that he was in the same boat as us. Hesitantly, and pointedly avoiding eye contact, he inclined his head a little in Muraki's direction. The doctors' eyes were trained towards the front of the helicopter, flickering across the corners made by the wall of the vehicle and the backs of the seats and moving to appraise the wall to the right of me. I shied away from his intense gaze, relaxing into a sitting position beside Oriya. The swordsman nudged me with his shoulder in a sort of comradely gesture and then turned his attention to his old friend, who was subjecting the interior of the helicopter to his fierce scrutiny.

"Do you have any idea where we're heading?" Tsuzuki asked, trying to sound stern and failing to withhold the timid tremor wavering beneath the surface. As always, the presence of the doctor only served to make my co-worker timid and bashful.

Muraki continued to look completely beyond us. "No." He said simply, distracted.

I wondered what had snagged his attention so aptly and decided that I should take a look for myself. A more responsible Shinigami would have done so immediately after revival to ensure that they were safe from ulterior magical forces and spells, but no one can ever accuse me of being responsible. Thank god.

A Guardian of Death is bestowed with a series of mystical abilities to assist them in missions regarding supernatural forces. Though particular magical properties are specified depending on the spiritual energy of each individual, there are some attributes that are compulsory and do not differ between agents. Such as invisibility: the ability to phase into what we called our Ghost Form and evade detection from the eyes of normal human beings. The most useful ability in my opinion is that of the Sixth sense: allowing us to perceive elements of the Nether Regions such as Shades, wraiths, yurei and demons. Whilst most mortals are unable to register the presence of such beings, it is a necessity for Shinigami to sense and appraise them for the purpose of our investigations.

Primarily, most guardians have a sixth sense radius of three distinct levels of penetration, which is usually enough to see the more esteemed of supernatural beings. Those that we are expected to engage in combat are more often than not, the type that possess the stereotypical arrogance of demon kind and will appear on the first level, becoming visible to even mortals. It's a confidence thing, I suppose. Demons like to show off this way in order to enforce their superiority and whilst not exactly practical, it portrays their power and establishes their dominance. Such as an owl puffing up its' feathers to make itself look bigger, it is the illusion that will lend to the adversary a pre-conceived cognition of power and glory. When it boils down to it, it's all about the posturing.

However, for those of us who are more lover than fighter, the second level of penetration, allows guardians to see one another when we shift into invisibility. That way we don't lose each other if we are scoping out a large building and are forced to shatter the illusion of stealth by calling out one another's names. Supernatural beings such as wraiths and shades also appear on this level, with the exception of the spiritually exceptional ones that are able to cross over into the first level from time to time, imprinting themselves there for whatever reason they have.

Usually these two fields are more than enough, especially for guardians. But as a student of demonology, I always thought it practical to possess an understanding of various levels of penetration that spiritual beings possess. Most garden variety ethereal creatures have a sixth sense of eight or so level penetration, able to discern other beings whether they are in their true form or not. For example, a demon operating on the eighth level of penetration would have been able to see Saagatanus for what it was when it took possession of Tsuzuki. Something I wish _I _had been able to see myself and save us all a lot of trouble.

Because of my desire to obtain a deeper level of sight into the various fields of spiritual penetration, I took the liberty of enforcing my glasses with a self-enacting link into the third and fourth level of penetration. I plan to possess all eight one day in my humble corrective lenses but for now I am satisfied with four. On the third level I can discern the insubstantial form of most minor demons, detect curse markings and distinguish malignant influence over a mortal. It also assists in translating demonic scripture, which can be quite obtuse and random even among demons. It's a wonder they have any idea what they themselves are writing. I've known cases where demons have become confused by scripture that they themselves wrote!

This link in my glasses did not come at an easy price. It was a risky affair, which just happened to involve the binding of a djinni named Ichibana, whom I had sealed into the glass. It was his sight I had 'borrowed' and as a result, I had a constant traveling companion to stay on top of. I had a great deal of trust in the djinni however and he was now integral to our plans.

Whatever the case, now that I had actually focused my attention on the area in which we were sitting, the cause of Muraki's distraction became embarrassingly apparent. In the first and second field of penetration I was unable to discern much of anything, if you did not count the subtle feeling of negative essence pilfering from Muraki like a bad smell on the second plane. On the third level however, I registered five distinct spiritual essences from the four major corners and one directly above the area in which we were sitting, suspended from the ceiling like some unnatural bat. It took me a while to recognize them for what they were, not from insufficient knowledge mind you, but from my lack of familiarity with them. This particular breed of spiritual entity was rarely employed nowadays mostly due to their mischievous nature and tendency to cause more trouble than they are worth. I knew this from experience.

Flattering security indeed. Wherever we were being transported to, we were being taken there first class in the company of djinn. Each one was contained within a pentagram detectable only on the second level of penetration. All were stationary, resting outside of their physical forms that were prone to putting additional strain on their essence whilst they served their sentence in the mortal realm. No doubt that they were the cause of the supernatural restraint, preventing my healing ability from taking effect. I glanced over at Muraki, realizing that he too was able to glimpse beyond the first level of penetration, an amazing feat for a mortal. Most mortals with the sixth sense can only view brief glimpses of the second level of penetration, which is why they limit the sixth sense as a perception in singularly the register of ghostly apparitions. I wondered whether or not Muraki too had enforced his glasses in order to enhance his field of supernatural vision? I certainly did not believe that he sincerely needed them to aid in his mortal vision. Perhaps that abnormal icy blue orb jammed into his right eye socket was the enforcement that made his Sight possible? Whatever the case, I got the impression that Muraki was able to penetrate into many more levels then _I _was able and I was suddenly, and abruptly feeling jealous.

I returned to studying the Djinn. They weren't of the particularly dangerous tribes such as shaitan and marids (it would have been absurd to contain a marid in an area far from water, anyhow) but that didn't make me any less wary of them. A djinni is best renowned for its' intelligent and resourceful nature. And like a woman who knows that she is beautiful and a man that knows that he is handsome, they were more often than not boastful about it. Again, a first hand account.

The two djinn stationed behind the pilot and co-pilots seat's, were of the Jann variety distinguishable by their insubstantial form of swirling dust motes. Ichibana, my own djinni, was of this particular tribe himself. The ones in the two corners of the wall we were leaning against were of the Jinn tribe, their essence revealing itself as a small whirlwind. The one above our heads was of the same type, though this one was slightly more dashing in the rising and falling semblance of a dust devil. This seemed to be the only one of which was currently active. The others appeared to be in a stationary form of rest and were remaining relatively passive.

Muraki made a brief, disgusted noise. Like a snake spitting.

"Unpleasant." He murmured, resting back against the wall, paying little mind to the stationary djinni separated by no less than a foot from his left elbow. He made a prim, courtly gesture with his head. "Sit back, Asato. Judging by our level of security, I think it is safe to say that we are expected to be waiting for some time."

Tsuzuki shifted a little on his knees, that stubborn childish expression fixed very firmly across his lean features. It was amazing how much he looked like a kid about to throw a temper tantrum whenever he pulled that face.

"I'm fine." He said at last.

Muraki was curt, lifting one silver eyebrow in barely suppressed humor. Clearly he was well versed with my friend's behavioral tendencies by this point and found it as amusing as I did.

"Surely you are not going to crouch like that until we reach our destination?" The self-trained sorcerer asked, his eyes traveling dangerously low down across Tsuzuki's back. "I certainly would not complain if that is what you choose to do, but I'm sure it is bound to get uncomfortable after I while..."

I chuckled a little nervously and wondered whether I should warn the gentle natured brunette that he was being languorously undressed from behind by this creepy, psycho perve. Evidently, I didn't need to say anything. Tsuzuki apparently had reached the edge of his restraint and consented to the fact that kneeling on the steel, vibrating helicopter floor was not going to do him a world of good. With a defeated sigh he wriggled back, much to the doctors' obvious delight, and squeezed himself between Oriya and Muraki, closing himself off as tightly as possible from making any physical contact. Despite his having already consented to the doctors' advances, there was very little open reciprocation in their public appearances. Well, less from Tsuzuki, if we're being brutally honest here.

Oriya did not notice his discomfort, or else chose to ignore it completely. He pressed the crown of his head to the wall behind us and puffed his cheeks out, exhaling loudly to express his growing discontentment.

"What did you guy's see?" He indirectly asked Muraki and I. "You were both staring at something I couldn't make out. Do I even _want_ to know?"

I explained to him the presence of the djinn and made it perfectly clear that their actions towards us were solely dependent on what was ordained to them by their current masters. Oriya was suitably impressed.

"Guess this means I can relax for a while then." He murmured, allowing his dark eyes to sheathe themselves behind long lashes. "Damn... I just want to get this over with already and have a puff of my pipe."

I smiled warmly at his light-hearted complaint. I was fond of Oriya. Although saying that I was _fond _of him, made our current relationship sound lighter than it actually was. I liked his forthright nature and austere dignity. He was a noble, loyal man with traditional values of morality in family and friendship. Though young (To a Shinigami like me that is, to mortals you might argue that by early 30's you are not technically classified as 'young') I imagined him with the essence of someone whose soul was much older. And this did _not _include his crouching spider. This was the soul that belonged _entirely _to Oriya. The soul that had seen many lives before this one and still retained the knowledge necessary to deal in any matter presented to him. Oriya was unusually clement for someone with close ties to Muraki; a brutal man in application of all emotions, such as the obvious passion he exemplified for Tsuzuki.

Oriya did not have that feel about him. Despite his loyal ties to the good doctor, the swordsman possessed warmth, a gentle teasing nature that fleshed him out beyond that of an exemplary Samurai. Much to everyone's surprise, including my own, he and I got along swimmingly. Even more surprising, was that it had not taken long for the two of us to grow comfortable in this arrangement. By the eve of our first fortnight together… well, you know all about _that_.

I watched him silently for a moment and then decided it was worth the risk, and shuffled closer leaning my head on his broad shoulder. One eye immediately cracked open to focus on me.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

I gave him my most winning smile. "Snuggling." I nuzzled his neck with my face to emphasize the point. If this trip really was going to take forever and a day, I at least wanted to spend it comfortably and Oriya's shoulder proved to be a most appealing roost. Excellent comfort and support!

His eyebrows furrowed. A sign that usually indicated that he meant to tease me. "I'm not your pillow."

I ignored him and shut my eyes, taking in the heady scent of masculine sweat rising up from the collar of the tight black shirt he had chosen for infiltration purposes. I found this tactic worked best whenever Oriya was intent on teasing me, for more often then not he reciprocated when he saw that I was moderately serious.

Success! At my lack of witty reply, I felt the slightly oppressive weight press down over the rise of my hairline as he rested his head against mine. A straight nose rubbed against my forehead briefly in hesitant affection and I gave a slight smile, thinking how nice it was to be awarded this sensitivity without even needing to get drunk.

Tsuzuki broke through my momentary contentment by reminding us all that _he _has to be the center of attention _all _the time. What an attention whore, honest to God!

He emitted a pitiful puppy whimper that probably had nothing to do with the fact that Muraki was attempting to stick his tongue down his ear and tears beaded up in the corners of his eyes.

"How did we manage to get ourselves into this situation, again?" He asked no one in particular. "How did it snowball into something this big? I can't seem to put a finger on one particular event that led to all this!"

It was Muraki, surprisingly who answered. Relenting in his onslaught of Tsuzuki's audio receptor, the doctor lent back against the wall, his visible eye shut and a knowing smile slightly peaking his lips.

"I can help you there." He said in that same predatory tone of voice that sent shivers up my spine whenever I heard it. And not those good spanky kind of shivers either. "And seeing as how we have time to kill, we really ought to attempt to fill in the blanks and collaborate our acquired information. It may come in useful later once we've eluded our kind hosts here."

I like how he didn't for one second doubt that we were going to _elude _our captors grasp. To Muraki, as always it was simply a matter of _when. When _it suited him. _When _he felt like it. Sometimes I had to wonder whether or not he had some perception of things before they even happened, as he was always so assured and confident in how people and events would unfold before his eyes. Then I remembered Kyoto and quickly relinquished the thought.

"Sounds like the best course of action to me!" I enthused, lifting my head from Oriya's shoulder in renewed energy. In my opinion, there was only one worse thing in the world then being up shit creek without a paddle, and that was being up shit creek with a toothpick as a paddle and no wet wipes. Having direction gave us motive. And I too was curious to unfold a few more layers of this seemingly complex mess we had landed ourselves into.

Muraki considered silently for a moment as though settling on an appropriate opening for his version of events. He eventually nodded as though he had targeted the most satisfying point and turned to our captive attention.

"Well..." He began. "I suppose that my involvement here, began the moment I entered into a nightmare I have became all together too accustomed to..."

_**- EC -**_

**A/N: **Thanks everyone for all the support over the years! I appreciate every one of my readers, for all the kindness you have shown me. It still amazes me to this day that people are out there enjoying my work, reviewing still and really get involved in the story! Makes all the work worthwhile. So thanks again for all your patience and I hope you guys enjoy the all-new version!


	2. Muraki: Perfect Asylum

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Descendants of Darkness does not belong to me. I know this may come as a surprise to some of you people, but I really do not own it. Honestly. I don't. Really, check the credits if you don't believe me. I assure you, you will not find my name there anywhere.

**Note: **All new and improved chapter two, ladies and gentleman! (Do any men actually read this, I wonder?) Not much has been added or subtracted from this chapter either, though I have changed much of the conversation between 'Saki' and Kazutaka, to fit what happens in later chapters. Basically, I've just tightened the screws a little. This is my preferred version of chapter two, so if my readers would be so kind as to delete any previous saved versions of Perfect Asylum and replace it with this one, I would be very happy!

**Tsuzuki: **Oh, come on Hickok! You can't ask em to do that!

**Hickok: **Why not? I don't want to be contradicted by my previous errors! I need to cover my ass here!

**Watari: **What was that?! _Whose _ass is being covered?

**Muraki: **Not yours if that's what you were wondering. Personally I don't care what version the readers have of this chapter. It's repulsive either way.

**Oriya: **You do write some appalling shit, Hickok.

**Hickok: **I know. I love it. ^^ Enjoy the chapter you guys!

**Muraki: **No sensitivity whatsoever.

**Hisoka: **Like you've earned it!

_**~ X ~**_

_I tried to kill the pain_

_But only brought more (So much more)_

_I lay dying_

_And I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal_

_I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming_

_Am I too lost to be saved?_

_Am I too lost?_

_My God my tourniquet_

_Return to me salvation_

_My God my tourniquet_

_Return to me salvation_

_Do you remember me?_

_Lost for so long_

_Will you be on the other side_

_Or will you forget me?_

_I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming_

_Am I too lost to be saved?_

_Am I too lost?_

_My God my tourniquet_

_Return to me salvation_

_My God my tourniquet_

_Return to me salvation_

_My wounds cry for the grave_

_My soul cries for deliverance_

_Will I be denied Christ?_

_Tourniquet_

_My suicide_

_**~ "Tourniquet" ~**_

_Evanescence_

**~ X ~**

_"Storms m__ake trees take deeper roots."_**_ ~ Dolly Parton_**

**Perfect Asylum**

**Muraki**

A memory that belonged to a monster I have shared with no one. The nightmare memory that bequeathed itself to me without any warning or preparation, on the nights when I would least expect its' presence. Appropriate I suppose. It was in the very same state of mind that he himself disrupted the happy affair of my life with his presence.

A monster that continues to make a monster quiver even after all these years.

Saki Shidou.

My brother. Or should I say half brother? It is the perpetual scorn I face every hour of every day to consent to the verity that the creature responsible for the despair of my family, shares my blood, albeit in such an insignificant way.

The revival of that nightmare, is what led me to this place now.

I was only fourteen years old when that event took place; the event that tattooed itself into my mind, like the curse I inflicted on that boys' body so many years later. Part of me had been stained by every drop of Saki; a touch on my skin that eternally lingers and can never be washed away. A cruel contact that I despised and yet wanted to better, to duplicate.

To perfect.

It happened the night following my mother's death. No... not her death. That is too placid a word to accurately describe the torment she had suffered in the very moments before I, her own child, had been forced to end her life.

The night following my mother's _slaughter_. Her cold-blooded mutilation. A brother's gift to his brother, a gift I would never understand let alone accept. Even now, with the stain upon my own hands I still struggle to interpret his unique motive when he presented her to me in that state of delicious bloody mutilation. Eyes eviscerated in crimson sheen of life essence only visible in impending death. Parts of her body severed, her own hair tied in ghastly tourniquets to slow her blood loss and prolong this beautiful and agonizing dissolution that he had allowed _me _to witness.

It was I that finally allowed her to die. A moment that should have ebbed any hunger within me to ever take another life. Ah... how ironic that it did not stiffle the demon in me, but rather awoke it in an infant stage of ferocity and vengefulness.

I had once felt the guilt as you do now, my dear Mr. Tsuzuki. My guilt broke me that ebony night when I literally _felt _my mother die inside my own head. Nothing since, save my passion for you, has ever come close to replicating that euphoria of experiencing another's death in the way that only we descendants of darkness can. To have them die inside of us and yet to keep on living... I understood then what true peace, what true pleasure could mean at last. It had taken my mother's death to see it but those few moments of her final withering breaths, allowed me one small window of freedom.

Such as the sublime ambience of orgasm however, such pleasure passes once the life ebbs completely from the body, leaving behind a boy immersed with guilt at the despairing crying of the demon within him. The demon that wanted more, more, more! That constant, insistent cry that would never allow me to rest in my endless pursuit of life in order to sate myself. To reclaim that feeling I had at my mother dying in my arms; at my very fingertips.

I suppose that was part of _his_ objective too. Part of his gift to me, to help me in my transition from light into darkness. Born onward into the secretive future that no longer shrouded me in its' shadow. There is no shadow in darkness after all.

However, I would not realize this until I tasted fully the bitterness of personal suffering, bore into my body through the finesse delicate art of demon energy. In other words, my humanity was not to be cast aside at the pleasure and guilt I took in my own mad mother's death. The way she had lived and ended her life had all been in madness but by the by she had still been a mother to me. I had been her doll and I did not care for what had happened for her.

I had no gratitude for this _gift _my "brother" had offered me.

It was this event that awoke me to a state I very rarely find myself any more, those few weeks ago. Sweating and uncertain. I would say fearful, but I do not register fear as an appropriate phrasing of the feeling I have at the recurrence of this event. At the time perhaps, but I had been more human then. More childish and vulnerable.

Those many years ago, the night following the night of my mother's death I had mustered the courage to finally confront "Saki". Though I had no evidence to prove that he was the main offender, it was the undeniable expression I saw on his face, when he and my father had stumbled across the body of my mother, secured to me even in death. Something on Saki's features registered within me as being chary. A predatory smile, so slight it was nearly undetectable.

This had been more then enough to effectively assure my inner convictions.

In the dream I could never run fast enough. Even in my own mental representation, I could never escape the reality of what had happened to me that one fateful night...

_Saki had been washing his hands in the basin of his en suite, when I confronted him. This meeting was of my own design and I had planned to carry it out singularly, without the assistance of my father. I had arranged it perfectly. He would be out, seeing to the funeral arrangements of my deceased mother and the servants were all in their quarters._

_Tonight, I would assure that Saki confessed to me the logic behind his inane actions. It didn't occur to me for one second that he would be able to subdue me such as he had my pathetically weak mother. I was younger than he, but I was still capable and my knowledge of the body lent to me some advantage if he chose to react arduously._

_The door to the en suite was opened, but I knocked anyway despite the fact that I had already entered his bedroom without permission. I wanted to gain his attention but keep a safe distance between us, in case he thought to attack me. It was better to be safe than sorry._

_My half brother looked up at my insistent knock, dark hair brushing against the side of his face to match his movements. I staved my fist from tapping the wood once more and instead rested it on the doorframe, staring up at my older brother by a few months. The benighted love child of my father's unfaithfulness. His face revealed nothing, his blue eyes as expressionless as ever._

_With the exception of the night before... when he had seen her bloody corpse in my arms..._

_"Is something wrong?" He asked, in that strained tone of voice of haunted nightmares and whispered accusations in the dark. I resisted from assuring him that I had nothing to say and turning around before that voice sought to claim my courage, just as it claimed my captivation. There was no turning back now and the bloodied image of my broken mother, face torn like a china doll dashed upon the ground, hung heavy over my head._

_My fist shook in indication of my suppressed fury, trembling at my side. My nails dug deep into the mahogany doorframe, nearly tearing up splinters in my consternation and anger. I forced myself to meet his eyes._

_"I know you did it..." I whispered, voice heavy with condemnation. He cocked his head to the side as though he had not heard and took a step closer, ever so slightly closing the gap between us._

_"What did you-"_

_"I know it was you!" I hissed, matching his movements by stepping out into the bedroom. Darkness fell over me, the light from the bathroom no longer stretching out far enough to encompass me. Saki looked like some demented angel standing beneath the golden arch of the heated orbs. A mock representation of our religion, the angel Gabriel. Angel of death. "It was _you _who did that to mother! I could tell from the look on your face when you found me with her! You were the one... the one who broke her and left her to die like that..."_

_I found something about the look in Saki's eyes disconcerting. Rather than an expression of indignation and outrage at such a forthright declamation, he in aversion looked positively serene. A lazy smile caressed his features; like a tiny line of blood drawn with the very tip of a knife blade._

_"Such a bold statement..." He purred, lustful amusement dancing in his eyes. Again, he further broached the distance and I took another step away, as though we were mimicking some primitive dance. Still that smile sought to reel me in with each word spooling from between those thin, bloodless lips. "And were I to admit to this... atrocity that has aggrieved our family so... what of it? What are you to do with me, my dear Kazu?"_

_"Don't call me by that name!" I snapped, feeling behind me through the darkness for the security of the door handle. I was starting to believe this whole confrontation to be a mistake. "You have no right to address me as though you know me!"_

_He ignored me sharply and leaned forward all too quickly for comfort, a widening, maddening grin corroding his young features. There was something mad writhing behind his eyes, something he had no desire to reign in, let alone resist. "What will you do, Kazutaka? What will you do?! Where will you go?" The words became a mocking mantra, sung to the pounding of my heart as he progressed toward me through the dark, teeth shining with a slight film of saliva. I could feel my pulse race._

_"I-I'll tell father! And he'll have you sent away!" I babbled, almost tripping over myself in my haste to flee the room. He was advancing toward me with surreptitious ease, rousing my heart as it began to hammer out a warning signal to every pulse in my body. "Somewhere far, far away and you'll be locked up forever! Like a mental asylum and they'll never let you out! Not ever!" My very words were that of a madman, caged between four walls and the man coming ever closer, seeking to silence me of my lunatic cries once and for all. This room was to become _my _asylum, where I would descend into madness once and for all._

_I could detect Saki's eyes as they roved across my body in lust-crazed appreciation and I suddenly felt fey beneath those cobalt twins. I was wearing a silk yukata, tailored to my lean frame but with one white shoulder exposed from where I had allowed the material to fall astray in what I thought to be an aesthetically pleasing fashion. I found myself pulling the fabric back into place as those eyes beckoned enticingly; a demon's lure. A key lock kiss to cage me to his possession. I found myself even more frightened then my initial assumption had led me to. At the worst, I thought he might kill me as he did my mother. In brutality, in morbid precision and delicate appreciation for ailing life, surveyed from over blood caked fingernails._

_I was to learn that at worse, that his punishment would not award to me the sweet, forgiving temperateness of death._

_A pale hand descended from out of the darkness, cupping my cheek in a false impression of clemency. I could feel the malice beneath those stained fingertips, the air thick and heavy in that abrupt increase of breath from his mouth._

_"Tell father?" He asked with insincere innocence. "Tell me... Kazutaka; do you intend to convey my confession to him through prayer? For where is he now? How should he hear you, lest it be in prayer?"_

_I whimpered as my back hit the wall and I darted a quick glance to my left. I had misjudged the angle! The door was eight feet to my left at most! I wanted to make a run for it, but Saki still had a firm grip on my face and now his fingernails were lightly biting into my flesh, as though I were a fish on a hook. I was secured to him, to be reeled in and applauded as his prize. I had never felt more frightened._

_"When father comes back-"_

_"When father comes back?!" He repeated, his voice an audacious mockery of my own hopeful tone. He started to laugh, his shoulders rising and falling in full richness of both sound and movement. Even those blue shades were sheathed by the curtain of his eyelids; as though this was truly the result of a wonderful joke I had told. Though I had no perception of any humor in what I had just said._

_"Just listen to yourself! _When _Father comes back? I think we both know, Kazutaka, that 'Father' _isn't _coming back.__" Saki's jeering laughter filtered away to these few words, spoken over a cruel chuckle. A verification of my naivity. _

_My eyes widened, as the realization became all too apparent. I wanted to scream an objection, to question how it was possible when I had not even noticed his absence from the house when my father too had left. Saki saw understanding shape my expression and laughed loudly again, his head tilting back as though it were simply too much for his body to handle._

_"That's right Kazutaka!" He shrieked, ducking his head down and laughing from between his clenched teeth, still holding me close by one hand. "You get it now, you ignorant little brat! Don't you?! You're all alone in this world now, boy. Now, no one will come for you."_

_"No..." I could barely hear myself speak the word._

_"'Fraid so." He said without the least bit of sympathy. "The car never left the garage. I gave him a quicker death than that stupid bitch, so at the very least you should be grateful for that. It won't be on your poor innocent conscience to bear the responsibility for the death of another loved one. Though I did _so _enjoy seeing that delightful look on your face when you had no choice but to end sweet Mommy's wretched life! Lovely..."_

_At this, he moved even closer to me, bringing the other hand up to angle my chin toward the ceiling, studying me fervently. My voice was wracked with tremulations as I felt the heat from his body entangle with my own._

_"You... you bastard..." There was little effort in my words. The news of my fathers death had too easily taken its' toll on me. I'm sure Saki had been more than aware of that, had used it to his advantage in order to weaken me for the upcoming ordeal. Those eyes surveyed my body as though I were an expanse of land to the eye of an experienced landowner. In the same manner I could see all too easily the anticipation of what my body could afford him, of what dark arts he could perfect with my essence._

_Of how he could use me for his own benefit._

"_A child's face is never more beautiful than when it is struck by trauma. That naivety… that pure unadulterated confusion…" Carnal lust and desire punctured Saki's expression as one of his hands fluttered down from my cheek to my neck, where he began to stroke the hallow that rose with every breath. His lips moved to brush against my own bloodless pillars, causing an influx of cold shivers beneath my skin. Saki grinned approvingly._

_"Ah Kazu...Isn't this better, though? This is what you wanted, after all." He breathed, using my first name to indicate his intimacy of afforded mercy toward me. Mercy, such as extended by one true savior in exchange for his own life, now offered to me by the man whom had delivered me into the very depths of Hell. I was praying then... Oh Christ, forgive me for my failing faith in you my Lord. I did not want to die that night, not like that. In the name of Saki's mercy I was prepared to offer my faith to that of a false God and worship him in place of Christ. I would have given him anything, if it meant that I would not die there in that room. Anything in place of whatever death luck itself afforded me, as long as it would not be the vile death at his hands._

_He appraised me once more, lips trailing up my temple and a slight smile drawn into the very corner of my sight._

_"Kazutaka..." Said the whispered deceiver, eyes shining in the dark. "I can see you laying on a bed of roses... a kiss of blood lining the corner of your lips. How beautiful those scarlet petals would look in comparison to your ashen skin. The perfume caressing your body in waves of finger light brush strokes carrying you gently into death." Saki gripped my chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his curved index finger, his expression delighted. "I think _that's _the way I want to see you dead. You don't have to die like they did you know. Don't be deceived by them, simply because they were your parents Kazutaka. Weak humans, that is all they were! They were nothing compared to me! To me... and to what you _could _be! I gave you her life to take, because I knew you'd be able to see in her death, the pure resolution in what it is you have the worth and potential to become! Do not cast that away with false nobility and ideas of a humanity you have no right to partake in! Where's the justice in that? It is a stolen life Kazu! Her blood is on your hands now and that is something you can never run from."_

_I wanted to block out his words, to deny them with the driving force of my delirious passion to stay alive and avenge my murdered family. To avenge myself being left alone in this world with no one but this insane, twisted _thing _that had been my brother. I wanted to tear his face apart with my fingernails and hear his howls echo within my ears with each strike. I wanted to see him bleed and beg for mercy, to choke on his own vitae. I wanted to severe his limbs and gouge his eyes out and force _him _to end his life as a pathetic broken doll, the way he had forced me to end my mother's life._

_And it was because of this desire, that I could do none of it._

_He was right. To live the life of a human was a stolen lie that I could not partake in. Not now. Without even saying a word, he knew the blood thirst in me. That aching desire to sate myself in the essence of that single, incomparable moment of death where I could _feel _the soul slipping away. Could almost see those slender fingers of death snuffing out the burning wick of that candle._

_The monster was right. I too longed to regain that moment, again and again and again. I could see it in him. And he could see it in me._

_Yet I would still deny him with everything I had! Whether he was right or not, did not resolve the fact that I hated him with all my heart!_

_As I turned my head away, he forcefully pulled it back into his line of sight, his expression amused._

_"Running, running, running. I suppose you will spend your whole life running, Kazu?"_

_I refused to answer, to even acknowledge that I had heard him._

_A soft murmur. "Yes... I think I will see you dead one day on a bed of roses. I will not give you the death I gave _them _Kazutaka. No... you will be my most perfect piece of art. Skin supple and pale, outlined by the tender blush of a blanket of roses. Your lips softened in blood... Ah... those that cared for you would grieve at your death Kazu, but you can just imagine the words they would say, can you not? 'How terrible it was for Kazutaka Muraki to die, for he is so young. But oh my, as awful as it was, he did look most beautiful lying amid all those roses. He seemed so peaceful at last.' They will not know whom it was who gave him such a perfect death, but the time will pass when all will come to appreciate the artistic wonder I am able to bestow upon the loved corpses I leave in my wake. Kazu... you will enable me to perfect my art. I will show you death in its' most delicious, its' most seductive form and you will be remembered. You will be my most beautiful design..." I felt his lips there, against my ear. "Through you… I will complete my mark. So that all those that witness your body, all those that fall prey to your madness… will remember that it was I who gave rise to you. It was __**I **__who granted you that blood red moon…" _

_With a soft hiss, he slowly moved his hand down along the curve of my back and onto my buttocks. I exclaimed loudly as he grabbed the tender flesh, almost bruising me in his viscous attempts to manipulate it._

_"Saki... that's enough!" I tried to speak firmly but was distracted somewhat by my half brother moving that hand up my back once more, tracing a long finger up my spine. _'Dear God...'_I thought, unable to deny that the feeling was obliquely good. "Let go of me! Please, just let me go!"_

_"Do you want to die tonight, perfect doll?" Saki whispered as he planted feverish kisses across my cheeks. I shuddered at the affectionate application as well as the cruel reference to my mother's prior obsession with me. 'Her perfect doll...' Now I was to be Saki's 'perfect design...' I couldn't handle this. I just wanted to curl up and die. _

_"Yes..." I mumbled and cried out as Saki gripped my shoulder savagely, pressing his teeth hard against it. "Yes! Just let me die! Kill me like you did her! Let me die that way!" Suddenly I was yelling. Yelling and sobbing at the same time, tears springing outward from my stinging eyes. "Gouge my eyes out! Scar my body and tear off my fingers one by one! Make me ugly! Make me UGLY! I don't want to be anyone's 'perfect' anymore!"_

_Truly I was as broken as any doll had ever been that night. Saki had succeeded in doing so with barely the minimalist of effort and that is something I would never hope to duplicate, no matter the experience I have since acquired. By begging Saki to kill me, I had given him permission to me. I had handed him the key to all parts of my conscious and subconscious body, inviting him in to whatever part of me he desired access. And despite the lack of light in the room, I saw very clearly how aware he was of my surrender. I noticed the blue pupils in his eyes narrow down to a sliver in the center, the emanating demonic desire to quell the hunger within him the only way he wanted to. By giving him permission, he owned me. Saki's eyes focused intently on me. He wasn't much bigger than me but there was power within him, unyielding even to my most persuasive struggles. The demon in him was surging its' way to the surface, erupting into his consciousness like some deep sea creature rising up to claim him as its' own. And Saki reacted to it, unable and most likely retaining little to no desire to resist that seductive tug._

_"But perfect you are..." He almost purred, his voice guttural and primitive. A light seemed to dawn in his eyes. "Kazu... my perfect design. My perfect doll. You deserve nothing more then the perfect demonstration of my power. The perfect hurt, to linger for an imperfect half life of mortal mockery..."_

_I stifled a cry as Saki drove his lips against mine, bruising them in his mad fit. My hands came up to push against his chest, meeting resistance as hard and unyielding as concrete. Saki smiled maddeningly as he suckled on my resisting lips, pushing his tongue violently into my mouth as I attempted to pull back from this disgusting violation. Anyone forcing themselves on me in this fashion would have been bad enough let alone my half-brother. This fact alone, this incestuous evil he sought to enforce over me, represented a new kind of violation. It was like kicking sand in the face of our religion. Saki had become something abominable and his act of pervasion upon me was for more alone then to simply sate his demonic urges. _This _was part of his perfection. His perfection in the disruption of all our God stood for. Incest was _wrong, _as was homosexuality_. _It said so in the Bible._

_My movements became hindered as Saki gripped the nape of my neck, holding my head in place whilst he clutched my hind in his other hand and lifted me off the ground. I sobbed as he pressed me back against the wall, confused beyond all conscious articulation. Not just at his violent actions, but at the simple fact that he seemed intent on kissing me. Why should that have mattered? Kissing is intimate after all and his actions towards me should have been anything _but _intimate._

_"Don't refuse me, Kazutaka..." He growled, allowing his lips to fall astray. He studied my tear stained face for a moment and smiled in adoration. "You are so beautiful child... broken and torn at the seams like that. What a sight... I won't take no for an answer now. Not when you look as ravishing as you do."_

_"Saki!" I howled, pushing at the fingers on my neck. "You have already condemned yourself from Heaven by what you did to my parents! Don't commit another sin that will prevent you from ever repenting for your crimes! Please... don't test God's everlasting mercy!"_

_I suddenly found myself tossed roughly to the bedroom floor. Pain flared up my spine as I tried to think of a way to rectify this situation, sobbing at the jarring pain racing along my backbone. What a fool I had been, to think I could have made Saki confess to his sins on my own! I should have made one of the servants come with me. Or taken a rifle out of the cabinet and confronted him with that. Or run far away from the house without a backward glance, putting all the bloodshed and horror into the farthest corners of my imagination, never to be unveiled again._

_The only absolution I could come up with at the time, was the idea of screaming for help. The servants quarters were not all that far from the house itself and with any luck, perhaps one of them was taking a walk outside and might happen to hear me yelling. Granted the windows were closed, mother had always assured me that I had a pair of powerful lungs as an infant and the way I see it, you can only improve with age, right?_

_All right. I will admit that it was a relatively weak hope but in those few moments I clung to it as a drowning man to a bow of driftwood. Floundering in the darkness, this tiny possibility allowed me to stay afloat when my mind threatened to sink into the darkest recess of my mind._

_I pushed myself up on my elbows, mouth opened to scream a hearty cry for help, when Saki's hand slapped against my throat. He squeezed so firmly; a strangled squeak was the only sound I was able to emit._

_"Do you actually think I give a damn about God?" Saki spat; digging his nails in hard enough to draw blood. "It matters not to me whether I am accepted into this child's dream of divine forgiveness and God's everlasting mercy. If such a being truly exists, then where is he now? Why hasn't he stopped me from doing all these dreadful, evil things to your family? There is no God! God cannot possibly possess the audacity to condemn me, when he has not ever raised a finger against me! What gives Him that right? Nothing! And that's why I will not be bound by the shackles of such hypocrisy that you deign to call religion! A savior who dies to forgive us our sins? Ha! What lunacy! There is nothing that will save me now. Not this stained soul, these stained hands. And I wouldn't have it any other way. That is why I will take you Kazu, whether you want to be taken or not! If Christ truly loves you, he will forsake Heaven and all the grace and compassion of his Holy Father – to stay my hand!"_

_At that, his lips found mine again and he kissed me with the savage intentions of a rabid animal. Fear overtook my senses when I started to understand some of "Saki's" logic. _

_There is a quote that I am particularly fond of, that seems to explain Saki's administrations toward me that night. Christopher Marlowe once stated that; "- for where we are is hell, and where hell is, there must we ever be."_

_This was _his_ act of defiance. To deny Christ, deny the very existence of all I had come to believe in, that restored my faith in humanity and the hope that there may some day be a sound absolution that might save my soul from damnation._

_And Saki's plan was to stave this hope out as effectively as he had staved out the eyes of my mother. To take me, his own brother, "Saki" was condemning me along with him. It was a sin to mate with your own blood relatives. And it was an utter revulsion to someone with personal respect, such as I possessed._

_This creature had always excelled in distinguishing the frail traits of others._

_Panic gripped me and I thrashed wildly, punching at the expanse of chest above me as hard as I was able. Saki leant back, snarling like a deranged animal._

_"Dammit you bastard! Get off of me!" I stammered, panting harshly as those ice blue eyes surveyed me critically._

_A silence followed, a long torturous interregnum where neither one of us moved an inch. My breaths puffed against my brothers pale cheeks as Saki leant close, his hand weaving into my medium length silver hair. I half expected the onslaught to cease at this point; for Saki to present a plausible excuse to me. That he was sick. He had multiple personality syndrome. He was possessed by the devil and we needed to go for an exorcism right away. _Anything _that might have excused my brother from the acts that he had committed. _

_Instead, I found myself yanked up firmly by the hair and slapped across the mouth. I tasted blood and realized that the blow had split my lip from top to bottom. Dazed and disoriented, I barely registered that Saki was screaming in my face until he shook me, the roots of my hair tearing from his dynamism._

_"Be silent!" He roared, pressing his thumbs so hard into the crevice above my clavicle that I bruised in seconds. "Lie still and be quiet, you stupid boy! I can make this hurt far more than it has to, Kazu. It is your decision."_

_"Saki!" I gasped, unable to believe what I was hearing. This couldn't be true. Dear God, this just couldn't be happening. "Saki, you can't do this to me! Not to me, you can't! I'm your brother! Your _brother!_"_

_White steam issued out from between Saki's teeth and his breath rasped like a dried corpse. I whimpered, knowing that I was seeing something truly malignant. Something that came from Hell surfacing within my brother's consciousness and snaring his desires for a purpose entirely its' own. This was not my brother. This could not come from the boy I knew as Saki Shidou._

_"That mortal name... is nothing to me, Kazu." The voice growled, steam gushing from his mouth as though the temperature had dropped to sub-zero in a matter of seconds. Only the room was warm. His mouth came closer to mine and a thin tongue slid out, licking the blood from my torn lip. Saki moaned as though he couldn't get enough and suckled the metallic fluid greedily. "I could devour you alive... you delicious child."_

_"Get AWAY!" I screamed, flinging back my fist and striking Saki's face as hard as I was able. I was hoping it would stun him momentarily, allowing me a brief window of opportunity to escape. When it came to strength, Saki had me effectively pinned, nil to one. The only chance I had was tactics. And Saki was intelligent, no doubt about it, but I was indisputably much brighter than he. I had to use my brain to get out of this, rather then rely on my limited stamina. Though too panicked to effectively judge my aim, I thrust my fist at an upward angle, hoping to break the bone marrow. A lucky glance may even have penetrated the brain matter. A mortal blow. _

_My ploy seemed to have done the trick. Saki's head snapped back and blood trickled from one of his nostrils. Seizing my chance, I wriggled out from beneath the older boy and stumbled to my feet, staggering for the bedroom door, only five or so feet away. I managed to get four steps before I felt a hand grasp me by the back of my yukata._

_I was tugged backwards so hard and fast, I tripped and sprawled ineloquently on my stomach. The wind was knocked from my lungs and as I lay there, gasping at the air, I felt those feline hands frame my hips and pull me back, spreading my legs on either side of an anticipating waist. I whimpered as Saki drew the lower half of the yukata over my buttocks, pressing his evident hardness against the thin pair of boxers I was wearing beneath them. The fabric surrendered all too easily to the taunt length, keeling down between the cleft, inviting further access._

_"You desire this as much as I do, little one..." Saki said mockingly, grasping my bare thighs as hard as he could, preventing my escape. "Otherwise, you would have made it to the door then. You took your sweet time. Now, what is to stop me from taking my own?"_

_I clawed at the carpet, tearing up threads in my frenzy to draw myself away from him. I considered screaming again but in my heart of hearts, knew that it was no use. It was too late and the servants were too far away. The walls of our mansion were thick and the rooms expansive. It would be a miracle if a cockroach beneath the floorboards below us could hear me, let alone the servants._

_Saki may have smiled then. I am not sure if he did at the time, but I see him do so in my dreams and I knowing his nature, such an exhibition was highly likely. His fingers hooked through the band of my boxers and he started to tug them down my waist. I thrashed, as might a fish when raised from the water, refusing to allow this to happen to me. I would endure any physical or mental pain but I could not tolerate the thought of my own brother raping me._

_"Let me go!" I screamed, feeling my eyes tear up from the lack of substance in my voice. I wished I wasn't so frightened. "Saki, don't do this to me! Please don't do this to me!"_

_"Shut up." Saki snapped, pinching the flesh of my hind into the wall of my boxers, hard enough to dispel a cry of pain from me. "I offer you something dignified and possibly pleasurable to take into death and you dare to beg me for butchery? Your cries bore me. I endure this because it pleases me to see you like this after looking down your nose at me for so long."_

_I sobbed as he spun me around, onto my back and pinned me by both wrists above me head. He paused in his dismissal of my undergarments long enough to bring his face right up against my own, white teeth shining in the dim darkness surmounting the two of us._

_"Ever since I arrived here, you've done nothing but made me feel like an unwanted guest in your perfect little world! None of you tried to accept me. Not him, not her and most certainly, not _you _Kazutaka. This is more then you deserve! After all your mockery, all your snide remarks and put downs, I am generous enough to give you something exquisite in death and this is the thanks I get! You're pathetic, Kazutaka! Not even your precious God could love something like you!"_

_His anger spent for the time being, he resumed in his task of removing my boxers, using one hand to keep my wrists pinned. I had nothing to say to his hurtful words. It was true... I _had _been dismissive of him when he had first entered into our household. I hadn't wanted a brother to contend with, a rival to confront in manner of all things. Be they education or the affection of our parents. My attitude towards him had certainly been abrupt to the point of rudeness. However, once I had grown accustomed to his presence, I had done all in my ability to accept him into my life, as difficult as I found the transition. Saki had been, after all, the result of my father's infidelity. Years later, when I had learnt of his meandering affections from my mother, the admittance of Saki into my life only seemed to me, the permitting of his sexual deviance. His adultery. His sin._

_I had simply been unable to accept it. _

_But I _had_ tried to accept Saki. Now that I was faced with the task of interpreting his own feelings however, I could not deny that perhaps I had been than less concerned with his own personal difficulties. Thinking about it now, it was not as though Saki's opinion was consulted on the matter and that might have led him to such nefarious acts toward the family._

_Perhaps in some small way, we deserved what happened to us. We deserved to be punished for our hypocrisy; in that we attempted to rectify and excuse the sins we committed. By bringing Saki into our lives and pretending that he was one of us, we could placate our own arrogant minds and rest easy, thinking that we had done the right thing by him. _

_And this insincerity was rather unlikely to be resolved by a swift apology._

_I squirmed pointlessly and Saki sat on my knees to constrict the thrashing of my legs, rendering me completely helpless. I understand now, how formidable he undoubtedly felt. He must have relinquished that feeling of oppressive sanctity over me, an emotion sweeping through him as potent and intoxicating as the purest of alcohol._

_I wriggled and bucked my hips in an attempt to throw the older boy off. Saki moved with the motion and continued to pull at the boxers, until at last he was able to see what it was he wanted. With a fell swoop of his hand, he clasped a hold of the tender appendage and stroked it mercilessly, smiling at me the whole time as it grew firm in his fingers._

_I bit my already bleeding lip as I struggled to fight off the unwanted pleasure, twisting my body from side to side, to no avail. My knees ached from Saki's scant weight and my face continued to sting from the previous blow. Yet the greatest insult of all was this gift of ecstasy that I did not want. That was being forced upon me. I tried to imagine that it was my beloved; the dark haired angel I had seen in those pictures of my grandfathers. The unknown creature that had so effortlessly captured my heart and desires all through the simple presentation of his glorious face._

_It was no use to pretend however. My angel would have inflected a more sedate pleasure upon me, a gentle seduction. Saki was merciless and self indulgent in his ministrations. His thumb located a sweet spot and I yelped at the purely electric shock it sent through me. My brother crooned devilishly in response._

_"You mewl like a cat in heat..." He purred, nipping the tender skin on the underside of my chin. "You have no power to fight me off. You'll be begging me to fuck you before this night is up."_

_"I've already begged you to take my life... I will not stoop so low as to beg you to take my virginity too!" With a defiant swoop of my head, I slammed my chin down between his eyes. Light pain slapped the structure of my jaw but the effect was much more apparent on my half-brother. He reeled off slightly to the right, neck snapping to one side with an unholy crack and settling back into place. His grip loosened moderately, which was just enough. With all the power I possessed, I clasped one fist inside of the other and brought it down forcefully on the crown of Saki's head._

_I didn't even wait around to see if it had any effect. I scrambled away as quickly as I could, kicking off my constricting boxers as they bunched around my feet and stumbling on the trailing length of my robes as I made for the door. My fingers had closed around the gold knob when Saki caught up to me._

_He whipped me around by the wrist and pinned me to the door, pressing the length of his body against my own. I couldn't ignore the eager hardness I felt biting into my inside thigh, nor the thread of almost hysterical glee on Saki's face. One side of his face seemed to have developed this perpetual twitch and his eyes kept rolling from side to side, as though focusing on objects that no one else was able to see. I was more afraid than I care now to admit, particularly by the way his eyes roved across my body. It filled me with a kind of fear I never expected once in my life to be submitted to. The fear of a person who was subject to the mercy of a rapist. _

_There was a sensation in Saki's eyes, like something trying to break free but lacked the strength to do so. Blood mingled about his lips and ran dry rivers down from his nose. Yet he seemed completely unfazed by my last assault on him._

_"You fine child..." The voice cooed, cupping my face with both hands and kissing my swollen lips. I tried to press them together to reduce the amount of insipid intimacy but he forced them apart with his tongue. "You fight like a wounded fox, a cornered animal. ... Oh my perfect rosebud, my perfect design... it makes me want you all the more. Every inch of your flesh, every drop of your blood. My delicious doll..."_

_"Stop it Saki." I pleaded, feeling my strength leaving me in waves. I had no energy left to fight as Saki lifted me up and bore me towards the bed. "You're hurting me. Please... stop it..."_

_"When you speak to me like that, how can you just expect me to leave you be?" My brother asked softly, peeling the yukata off of my slim form and tossing it aside. I was completely exposed to him, to the utter subjection of his lustful gaze. "Your body wants it. Your body wants to contribute to my perfect design. I want to take you in all senses and drown myself in you. You're mine, Kazu. I'll take you when I want to."_

_"STOP IT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, batting those obtrusive hands away. "I have no idea who you are. You're not Saki! You're NOT! YOU'RE NOT!"_

_Saki roared in primal rage, shoving me backwards' onto the bed and sliding between my legs, pinning me down. Steam issued from between his teeth again in cold volumes, spilling out across my cheeks._

_"You're right... I'm so much more than Saki, you stupid boy. And I _will _have you." His hand descended and slapped me hard across the face, stunning me. A second blow came and almost rendered me unconscious. I clung on though, feeling paralyzed in body and soul as Saki buried his face between my thighs. I sobbed relentlessly, trying to bring my hands around to shove him away but not quite able to focus. Everything was fading, blurring in and out of reality. Saki turned his attention from my erection, lunged upward like some caustic snake and bit my inside thigh, drawing wet spots of blood as teeth punctured flesh. I yelped in response and struck out with my foot, ramming it against hard shoulder bone in an attempt to drive him back. In response, Saki lunged forward and sank his teeth into the larynx of my neck. I screamed, resisting the temptation to thrash around, save Saki tear the skin from my exposed throat. I opted instead to lie still, whimpering quietly as my brother lapped the hot, thick blood as it oozed from the wound._

_Saki gripped the front of his shirt and tore it off, the buttons popping as they were strained from the fabric. With some difficulty, he unbuckled his pants, shoving them away in the haste to reveal himself. He nibbled evocatively at my neck, licking up my chin and onto my lips, forcing his tongue inside again. His hand trailed down my thigh awakening a new series of sensations in my perineum. At his attentions, I moaned audibly, a mixture of guilty pleasure and duplicate revulsion wracking my body in twin partnership. Gradually, my senses were coming somewhat back into focus and this enabled me coherence enough to dig my fingernails as hard as I could into Saki's back. I scratched and clawed, drawing long trails of blood, biting against his shoulder and screaming with the vengeance of a wild animal being plucked from the wilderness and caged behind bars. Saki gurgled in delirious appreciation and ground his hips against mine, causing cruel sweet pleasure to ascend my groin. Physical substance such as I had never known before left me writhing in disgust at my own purely primitive pleasure. It was horrifying. Horrifying because of the implications of who Saki was and the strict constrictions of my religion. But even more detestable was the undeniable fact that it simply felt so good._

_"Yes... bite, scratch, make me bleed, my rosebud." He purred, sliding his hand down beneath my buttocks. Something inside my head roared in objection, wanted to oppress him in this way, rather than be taken. I didn't understand any of it. Not these feelings that didn't seem to be my own and certainly not Saki's. "I enjoy feeling you hurt me. It makes the situation that much more scintillating, don't you think?"_

_"You crazy bastard!" I shrieked, using my legs to try and throw Saki off now. "I can't even contemplate what you hope to achieve here! All you will get is my hatred!"_

_Tired of our game, Saki sat back and gripped my ankles, lifting my legs up to rest against his shoulders. The blood rushed between my ears as I felt him nudge against my virgin entrance. I covered my face with my hands, not wanting to see him rob me of something I had been saving for a love I truly had no hope of finding in this life. I didn't want to lose my virginity this way. Not to this... misshapen wretch of a thing I had once called brother._

_Saki battered my hands away. "Look at me you little insect! I want to see your face wrench out of its' loveliness. To see you repent for the sins you committed against me."_

_He leaned close as though sharing a conspiracy with me. "This will be something you shall take with you until the moment of your death. We're bound to one another. I am your God now and only I can forgive you your sins. Look into my eyes and beg for my forgiveness. Pray to be released from the shackles of sin that bind you. Pray to me Kazutaka. Pray to me..."_

_I groaned in utter revulsion, my fingers clenched into claws that sought to reach up and gouge my face away so I wouldn't have to meet his gaze. I didn't want this sick thread to stand between us for all time; to bear the knowledge that we were creatures locked together in my virginal obliteration. At that very moment I could think of nothing. Nothing but this pounding, unforgivable hatred of him and all that he was. A hate that should very well have condemned me to damnation._

_I did not beg for his mercy._

_The act of consummation I shall discretely veil for your benefit. "Saki's" infringement upon me, needs no validation to further extend the memory of his pitiful existence. The torment of my emotional state in regards to the event, even now persuades me to doubt the authenticity of my memories. I would favorably entertain the whimsies, that the whole event only occurred in one of the dark labyrinths of my twisted consciousness._

_But it did happen. _

_The proof of Saki's harried violation was revealed in a series of deep bite marks, peppered across my body in random childlike selection. When he climaxed a primeval roar burst from his throat as he uploaded his seed into my caverns, lifting his hips upwards as hard as he could. I couldn't contain a sob of relief as I felt those warm wet waves flood my canals and the hard pain dissipate. I half panted, half cried at the ceiling as Saki slid from my entrance inch by inch until his limp sex fell away completely. Lines of blood and semen dribbled miserably down the underside of my thighs, my own desire left hot and unfulfilled. Saki paused that way for a minute, apparently waiting for the euphoria of orgasm to pass. After a while, his eyes slowly opened, still very much alive with that fire and he lowered his hand, sweeping it up my thigh in one quick motion, renewing my still very present craving. He examined his hand idly and then lowered it to smear some of the scarlet fluid across my lips, tracing a thin line down from one corner. The smile grew upon his face, even as he painted the blankets framing my head with the traces of my own blood. I simply let him do it, no longer caring enough to prevent his sick games._

_"Laying on a bed of roses..." He spoke in a susurration, caressing the right side of my face as though I were one of the porcelain dolls my mother prized. I allowed him, no longer seeing the benefit in resisting. My reason for struggling had long since evaporated._

_Saki studied me ardently for a minute or so and then it seemed he lost interest. With a distasteful grunt, he shoved my legs to the side._

_"Get going." He said coldly, examining his sex, slick with semen and vitae. "Go clean yourself up."_

_I didn't know what to make of this. But I was not about to remain around to question Saki's motives, so I obediently swung my legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand._

_That's when I felt it._

_A burning sensation speared into the base of my spinal cord, spinning in circular succession and reverberating up through my body. It was comparable to a corkscrew being buried into the lower disks in my back, sending a million probes of bolting hot energy fluctuating up through the varying layers of bone, muscle, blood and flesh. My very sinews stretched to the point of snapping, a chasm of fire and shadow ripping through my body in senseless uproar. I heaved a moan as my toes folded over themselves and my knees caved in, sending me crashing to the floor._

_For a grim moment there was no rationality, no reasoning for anything. I lay sprawled on the carpet, bleeding from what felt like everywhere as a second rape was bestowed upon me. The cells of my body exploded in heat and I panted in horror as thick black and red lining appeared on the flesh of my hands. As I saw it, I too felt it creeping along my back, chest, shoulders, arms and legs. All over me, this cryptic scripture placed its' mark on me, branded into my flesh. _

_I started to scream. I screamed as hard as my body would allow, chest heaving with every intake of breath, nails scraping at the piping hot flesh and larva colored lines being carved into it. Behind me, I could hear Saki laughing._

_"So now you know what it means to suffer..." _

_"W-what have you d-d-done to me?!" I sobbed._

_Saki chuckled softly, no venom in his voice. He lay on his stomach on the bed; legs bent upward vertical from the knee and kicking back and forth in the manner of a high school girl on the phone to a friend. His expression was marginally buoyant._

_"First of all, I would advise you to relax little Kazu and it will make the process that little bit more bearable." He soothed as I continued to twitch about on the floor. "As to what it is, well. _This _my child, _is _me." He laughed at my sweat pinched face and brushed his hair back, jovially, licking a little blood from his fingertips. He sighed softly, as though he were a connoisseur approving a world class wine._

_"Can you feel it, my dear child? Burning into your skin, deep into the nodes of your bones, flush with the running rivulets of your blood so that it may twist ever downward into the beating heart, the twisted bowels, penetrating ever while further still to rupture the very soul. You can feel it can't you?" His eyes took on a hideous countenance, shining in a light that was not present in this dark, despicable ensconce. It would seem to me at the time that it was the very cruelty of this wretched soul that gave clarity to what the nighttime shadows ought to have veiled. As though, this corrupted essence brought with it the afterglow of the fires of hell, surely from which only such evil could possibly spring. "You wanted this, you know… and as with all things, there is a price. This is the payment I demand in having delivered your most earnest desires in full. And now that you have what it is that you most desire, I sentence recompense in turn." His hand darted down, to cup the curve of my chin and pull it back tightly against the side of the bed, the back of my head striking the iron underside and resonating pain through my skull that I was not yet num to, despite what torturous affliction despoiling the rest of my body. "What you are feeling right now Kazutaka, is a mark that I call The Shukusatsu. For what am I if not a seed, bereft of soil with no place to lay down my roots?" His finger reached out and gently tapped one of those growing lines, depressing the flesh ever so slightly. "This pain you are feeling… are those roots growing, stretching out, reaching their tendrils into the nourishment of your soul, assuaging my incomparable thirst. These branches twine beneath your flesh, seeking, soaking, drawing strength. Like the branches of neighboring plants they have entwined such as we did moments ago and now... you are bound to me. Entangled to my fate, my own motives and hunger will become _our _motives and hunger. __That__ is my perfect design for you Kazu. I have ruptured the humanity within you. You shall forever keel to the mercy of your demon blood thirst, shall know peace as only I am able to find it. By taking life and feeling that addictive vogue as a soul dies within and without you. You shall have no other way to sate this desire, no comparable satisfaction... no escape. Without sin, your life will inevitably shorten and wither. The demon within alone can now rise to dominance in your blood, enfold and ensnare you in its' arms and give you a craving, a promise to which you can break again, and again and again. So... Kazutaka Muraki; here is your perfect mercy: Live this life, condemned to Hell by this night with me. Obliterate faith in God, do not doubt or hesitate in preventing your internal suffering and take life." _

_His fingers clenched my hair and I was pulled backwards so savagely I could feel my scalp lifting in several places. I shrieked as my burning back was slammed against the side of the bed and Saki's upturned face obscured my vision. Below me, I could see the lines of that furtive curse stretching out all over my chest in patterns that looked purely random to me. Saki chortled humorously._

_"Should you wish to lessen the effect this mark shall have upon you by all means, cast it out upon others. In the manner that I have granted it to you, you Kazu may pass it to others. The damning hunger will lesson the farther you spread my mark. So that all who love you, all that deign to succumb to your body, will become like the geisha; a moving work of art. You shall spread my name, like a brochure to the hands of the unknowing. Do this in memory of me."_

_And so, he had found some way after all, to continue his dark obsession with his perfection of deaths' design. Just as he denied me of all that I loved and valued in this world, how he would deny me deliverance from Heaven. By taking me, I would be condemned even before committing a sin. For where we are is Hell, there must I ever be. Those lines bound themselves around me and burnt deep into all sides of my consciousness, visible in the Six sense radius of penetration three and up. However, they always become perfectly clear on the anniversary of that night._

_Just as he said they would._

**XxXxXxXxXx**

I opened my eyes and sat up abruptly, the stain of the dream still fresh in my mind. I shook my head, disgusted that I still entertained the nightmare of long dead boys; one dead in all senses and the other one dead in my efforts to veil his essence, along with any parts of me remotely human.

A doomed human caught in a nightmare from which there was never any escape. A nightmare asylum in which he could never run fast enough.

I suppose you could say my involvement began that night, on the anniversary of Saki's spell upon me. It was a year following the events in Kyoto and I had almost fully recovered from the wounds Tsuzuki-san had inflicted on me. I had returned to my home in Tokyo after flitting from hospital to hospital, hoping to throw off any Shinigami's tracks should they have had the mendacity to pursue me. After some time had passed however, it became all too clear to me that I had been left to my own devices.

Which suited me fine. I didn't have the current interest in stirring up trouble. At least, not until my wounds healed however. Even I had my limits and I am not fool hearty enough to dangle my toe in a wolverine enclosure when the other foot had already been taken. In other words, I kept my head low.

I mumbled a curt complaint, moving my hand away from the knob of the bedside cabinet where I kept a loaded pistol. This reflex had become second nature to me, due naturally to my somewhat insidious lifestyle.

"A gun would help little with a dead man, though," I admitted softly and with a strained mumble, managed to pull myself into a sitting position. Damp lights filtered in from the street below, allowing me to see the throbbing glare of the thick lines upon my bare chest. True as been foretold, the curse had made itself visible once more. Only my back had been ridden of its' particular branch.

That had been the part the boy had been so kind to take off my hands.

I rubbed the heel of my palm into my right eye, relieving the slight irritation caused by the scarring around the socket and glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was earlier than I thought, almost four o'clock in the morning. I had conceded to resting at one o'clock, which meant I'd had three hours sleep, the longest sustained period of rest I'd been able to get in the last three months.

Sleep came sparingly nowadays. After Kyoto, when I'd finally managed to trek my way to a hospital, the lingering paranoia of hot-blooded Guardians of death on my tail meant I spent many sleepless nights simply staring at the ceiling. It was difficult in that condition to anticipate when an attack might come and the extremity of my condition meant that my mental abilities were less than systematic. Even now that 'sleeping-with-one-eye-open' habit has become difficult to kick.

I closed my eyes, thinking of the recurring dream, of what significance it had now in my life. Everything that happened in the visions matched the true chain of events perfectly, with one exception. The ending.

Saki had let me leave his room alive that night, but the very night after he returned to finish the job he had started. I was prepared this time, prepared to end his life and undo the curse he had placed on my body but I was robbed of my rightful revenge.

I have never forgotten that injustice and have spent my entire life, seeking to rectify it.

Strange that it had happened seventeen years ago. It very rarely felt the correct time in reverence. Sometimes it felt like a century, whereas other times it felt like it only happened yesterday. Lack of sleep and the ever constant surge of adrenaline at every sound was starting to take its' toll on me. I desired some absolution with which to enter a new stage of my life, now that Saki's head had been destroyed in the fire that consumed the University those many months ago. What a shame it had been too. I most earnestly did believe that Saki certainly never looked better than he had at that very moment; head wrought verily from body and perched upon the trailing apex of his spinal cord, dead blue eyes staring without seeing through the experimental tanks jar like a feeble minded goldfish. I certainly gained some grim satisfaction from _that _little terminus.

I smiled faintly and held up a hand to appraise the black and red lines, bubbling across my pale flesh.

I felt dirty.

Conceding to the human nature in me that desired to cleanse myself, I climbed out of bed and made my way to the co-joining en suite, knowing full well that there would be no further chance of rest that night.

Even in death Saki continued to find some way from taking peace in even the most mandatory of activities. What a bitter creature I thought him to be!

As I showered, I put into procrastination the first step of my regime to reconstructing my life. Ultimately, I planned to abort my engagement with Ukyou. In all honesty, I had no interest in pursuing that relationship any further, _particularly _not into marriage. Whilst it was quite true that I still loved Ukyou, I couldn't imagine my life lived out with her, not after anything that had transpired. It would be a kindness to release her from this debacle whilst she was still young enough to move on with her life. I had no use for her anymore and there was truly no part of me that even desired her; physically or emotionally.

I had... _other_ preferences, in those specific areas.

The hot water effectively dealt with my pale skin, scorching it blush red in a matter of minutes. The color reminded me of an irresistible creature, whom had made my acquaintance more than once over the course of the last year. Three months with only the company of his lingering memory was starting to become unbearable and it made Saki's demonic hunger within me, even more difficult to control.

I wanted to kill; to sate that desperate need for my beloved, my chosen perfect design. It was all I could do to put myself to sleep at night, rather then step into the ebony ink and snatch the soul from any unfortunate whom happened to wander into my gaze.

_Tsuzuki-san…_

Almost unconsciously, my hand found one of the scars you gave me. A garish mess of healing skin, a constant shade of tightened pink flesh whereupon you drove that knife into me. In inelegant wound, but then again, that was _so _very like you. The rawness of the inflection served to only further remind me of your impulsive, unassuming nature and in seconds passing only, I felt the edges of my breath draw as evenly ragged as the precincts of the barely mended tissue itself.

Heavenly Christ...

The utter perfection delivered unto me by your delirious precision. I had wanted to know what it felt like for my victims when I slid that knife blade into the life giving heart. The essence of the blade was cold, impassionate and yet volatile, tearing through muscle and redirecting blood in its wake. I could scarcely believe the true driving force of your aim, your strength, even caged within your bygone state. I wanted to scream at you to stab me again. I wanted to beg you to ruin me, such as I had begged Saki to break my perfection those long, and yet not so distant years ago. But I had never felt such infatuation for Saki's insanity, such as I had longed for your perpetual innocence. Rather then, _I _wanted to be the one to break you. To tear you apart as Saki did me and brand you as my own, before all others could lay you to waste. It became my right and I sought to claim it with the same austere patience I am sometimes loath to possess.

There were so many instances where I could have simply taken you and met very little resistance in the task. You were certainly never one to voice too great an objection, were you beloved? More often then not, it was my over confidence that got the better of me. I thought I had all the time in the world.

How little I had after all.

When you stabbed me, I wished to draw that blade in further and help you kill me. I was honored to be broken at your hands, to see that blazing brush of delirium behind those beautiful eyes. That lingered at my words and gestures toward you, awaking in you what Saki awoke in me. You proved to be stronger though, didn't you? Or were you actually weaker? Who is to say? I can think of no one who can provide the answer.

By stabbing me Tsuzuki-san, you opened up something in me, something more than external wounds. You awoke in me my internal desire. Originally, I had sought only to use you to exact my long overdue desire for revenge upon Saki. The brother who cursed me with a condemned life. However, something changed in the time that I came to know you and see a little more clearly the person beneath those piercing eyes and delectable body.

In the scarlet regret that wept from my wounds, you released from me the fell desire to take life and sate my unquenchable hunger for that moment of death. The roots and branches of the cursed tree continued to pierce my soul and body both, but the times when I would gaze upon you – there was something you did to me, that dimmed the desire's intensity. A consistent dull roar it remained, but an irritation at best.

Saki had said that there was one method alone to stave off the effects of the _Shukusatsu._

He may just be right.

But what he never told me was that there were alternatives to _surviving _it.

That was the night I decided that you, Tsuzuki-san were to become my asylum.

My perfect asylum.

_**- EC-**_

A/N: Chapter three up soon. Tsuzuki and Watari POV's. On this closing note I would like to extend my personal support and sympathy to everyone affected by the tsunami disaster. I have you in my thoughts.


	3. Tsuzuki: And so bled the Red Moon

**Dark Adaptation – Dead Men Working.**

**DISCLAIMER: **Yami no Matseui and its' affiliated characters, concepts and locations belong to Yoko Matsushita and I am earning nothing but the sole satisfaction of telling this story to you fine people.

**A/N: **Well, I wasn't planning on doing any more writing for some time but since this is already written, I thought I might as well whack it up. Just the rewrite of the original chapter three, slightly better than the original. Hope whomever reads it enjoys it!

**~ X ~**

_"__My soul is full of whispered song;  
My blindness is my sight;  
The shadows that I feared so long  
Are all alive with light…"_  
~**Alice Cary, **_**Dying Hymn**_

**~ X ~**

**And so Bled the Red Moon. **

**Tsuzuki**

One a.m, the same night as the Tachiagari incident and I was where every sane immortal was at this ungodly time; out on the town.

In an attempt to put the sordid situation out of my mind, I was doing a bit of good old fashioned bar-hopping. Sometimes, for a moment or so, I'd manage to put things aside for long enough to subside my feelings of guilt. Guilt for my past misfortunes, accidents I'd been unable to prevent, people I'd been unable to protect...

It's ironic Muraki... that you can blame Saki for forfeiting any rights you have to find peace in even the most mandatory of activities, when you have done the very same to me. As a result of your presence in my afterlife, all the disappointments I had once been able to reign in became that much more difficult to control. I found myself getting agitated over even the tiniest things.

Hisoka, my own partner was as supportive as I would expect in this time of trial for me. But his lack of social skills and disassociation meant that he was unable to fully sympathize with the trauma I experienced when faced with what stirred so continuously inside of me. This darkness... perhaps the very same thing that Saki awoke in you all those years ago... Muraki.

The demon half of me. The part of me I've been running from all these years. Nearly one century has passed since the moment I first declared that my life would be dedicated to an eternity of evasion from the shadow in my soul that despaired in a dark squalor for life and blood.

Perhaps the reality is... is that I will never escape it. That another century will come to pass and I will still be running. And my heart will be forever in turmoil.

Kind of a depressing thought, huh?

The other agents had tried to be sympathetic after Kyoto. Tatsumi was thoughtful and gentle, making certain that I was fully aware of his support whenever I should have need of it. Mr. Konoe was nice too. He gave me a pay rise and I made short work of it at the next Cinnapon sale, which took my mind off matters for at least a little while.

A pat on the back. A whispered word of comfort or even an embrace, so that I knew that everyone was thinking of me. That I was still valued and appreciated and no one wanted to see me turn and walk away in a clouded aura of depression and hopelessness.

I did appreciate that. But... though I understood completely that everyone was there for me, I still could not shake those awful feelings. I'd been forgiven. I'd been accepted back into the arms of my friends and colleagues and remedied with the soft comfort of mortal words, physical contact and the glancing smile.

But I was not a mortal.

I'm not even entirely human.

And whilst my friends and colleagues were willing to accept me for who they thought me to be, the part they had seen erupt in Kyoto, the demon half, was something they wanted to forget. To sweep under the carpet. Because _I _wanted to forget about it too.

But no matter how much I wanted to push it aside and ignore its' presence, the fact to that matter was that I was part demon, no different to the creature who had caused that bloodied devastation within the Tachiagari. I had seen that horror… and I have _exacted _that same horror, even if I cannot remember it.

There had only been one single being I had known in a century long existence, whom had accepted both parts of me. Who had allowed the demon half some kind of peace and reciprocation, some acknowledgement. Whether I wanted to forget or not, there was no denying that half of me yearned for this creature that dared to admit its' existence when no other, not even the human part of me, dared to do so.

Yes Muraki. That creature was you. You don't have to look so smug about it either.

_The Red Moon's Calamity… _Isn't that what Dr. Squirrel called you? And what a calamity you were! What a tragedy, what a mystery… what an _obscurity_…

Kazutaka Muraki. A surgeon employed in Tokyo General, the central Metropolitan hospital. I had first met him three years ago, when I'd been sent out to investigate vampiric disturbances in my charge of Nagasaki.

He had turned up out of the blue; a tall, sophisticated man dressed all in white from head to toe. I'd been tending to a small child that had collapsed from what we assumed at the time was apparent heat stroke and Muraki deigned to provide assistance. I'd been appreciative of his attentions at the time and couldn't fail to notice that he had flirted with me, which had both interested and flattered me, being that he was a handsome, well to do gentleman.

But it turned out that he was far from a compassionate person. Through my investigation I found out that Dr. Kazutaka Muraki, the visiting Tokyo physician, had orchestrated the vampire murders, as a means of drawing me to him. He himself was a psychic vampire, who supped on spiritual energy and he siphoned the souls of the dead, killed by a revived girl named Maria Wong; a Hong Kong singing sensation whom had taken her own life out of despair. And if that weren't enough, Muraki unashamedly confided in me that he had been the one responsible for the death of my partner, Hisoka Kurosaki.

When Hisoka had been thirteen, he witnessed one of Muraki's murders and saw his face. In what he classified as a case of 'artistic genius', Muraki caught the innocent child, marked him with a curse through the act of raping him and watched over him in the hospital, supping his energy little by little, so that the boys final few years were spent in never ceasing pain and suffering.

Muraki had conducted the Nagasaki murders, in order to meet me. It soon became apparent that he was obsessed with me, though I never truly found out how he'd learnt of my existence in the first instance. Why, I had been dead long before he had even been born into this world.

Long story short, Hisoka and I managed to put an end to his activities and light on out of Nagasaki, liberating the soul of the manipulated Maria Wong in the process. But it was not the last we had seen of Kazutaka Muraki. We met him again on a cruise liner, the _Queen Camellia,_ which was being used as a floating organ bank, where illegal organ transplants were conducted outside the jurisdiction of both Japan and China. Many people had been kidnapped and slain, their organs harvested for the use of the rich and the wealthy; those who refused to wait for available, legal donors. Muraki had naturally been involved with the scheme but had very cleverly outsmarted us until the very end, seeing every last person who knew of his agenda murdered by the hands of yet another of his puppets, before blowing the ship up and slipping through our fingers once again.

Unbelievably, there had been a moment on the _Queen Camellia_, when I came dangerously close to allowing myself to be seduced by Muraki. He had been poisoned and we assumed he was dead but his high tolerance to toxins allowed him to decrease his bodily functions to the lowest degree and concentrate on healing. To acquire more energy, he attacked me in the cargo hold, attempting to feed off of me. I managed to fight him off but his attentions did not cease with his hunger. He whispered to me with provocative, seductive words, strumming my lip with his finger, pushing me down onto the floor with no resistance from myself, wound our fingers together, touched my mouth with his own. I'd had no real experience with such matters, with being seduced and it was somehow both revolting and completely exciting. I thought that he meant to have me, right there on the floor and I wonder to this very day, if I might have let him, should he have persisted. He was so… forthright. So full of passion and lust. I'd never had that before… to be sought so ferociously.

And then came Kyoto…

Sometimes I'd find myself dreaming about him. Not nightmares as you would expect after the events one year ago but visions of a more... sedate and gentle nature. There is something inside of me that remains hopeful, despite knowing full well the lies and deceit you fed to me since the moment I first met you. When I... dreamed of you, Muraki, you came to me as a being prepared to repent for his crimes and dedicate your life to rectifying all that you had come into contact with. In my arrogance, I believed it was a promise you made with the sole purpose of gaining my trust. You extended good will in order to see me smile, to make me happy.

"_Tsuzuki-san, I vow never to act in a way that would dishearten you,"_ You would say as you straightened your glasses in that way you always do. _"I have no desire to see you saddened."_

Then I would smile and in that bizarre way that dreams have, everything became all right and you were suddenly a person I could trust. I liked that feeling; thinking that you were someone that I could depend on to do the right thing by me. Believing that you cared enough about me, to want to become a better person for my sake because the only desire left in you was the same desire suspended in the demonic half of me.

I truly do not know which part of me was dreaming that dream.

The demon?

Asato Tsuzuki?

_Both?_

It was something I had thought about a lot, despite the stress it accorded me alongside my Shinigami duties. Sincerely, the human side of me wanted to believe in a good man named Kazutaka Muraki who saved lives rather than took them.

I've never been very good at thinking things through. I always expected too much of people. Expected that in heart, people are basically good and that evil is simply a word beyond mortal understanding and can never be entertained by humans. Evil was always such a demonic word.

There is no denying that Muraki did evil things. Things I fail to understand the reasoning behind and yet continually refuse to accord him the label as that of a conscious barren demon.

Why? I find that hard to rationalize myself. I cannot forgive him for these atrocious acts of murder and violation yet I am unable to call him evil.

Is it the predominant innocence in me, incapable of condemning someone with the harshest of accusations? Or could it be that I am simply loath to believe him evil, when this man was holding me in his arms and offering me intimacy in such a passionate and yet unobtrusive way? As up front as Muraki had been with his apparent desire, the ways in which he had expressed his affection had always been... alluring. Even when he had me pressed to the wall of the Queen Camellia having won my body in a game of Poker, the kisses he had trailed along my chin and neck were neither insistent nor forceful. They were an enticement. _'Come play,' _they seemed to say, those whispers of heat and wetness across my skin. _'I want you to enjoy this as much as I do.'_

'_Come play, Asato Tsuzuki…'_

The temptation I felt, lent to me a greater excuse to chastise myself. To forget. And were I to find momentary peace by drinking an entire bottle of Akita gin, then I would gladly do so.

That night however, I was out on my own.

I don't like drinking alone, especially on a Tuesday night when hardly anyone was out. It made me feel self conscious. I didn't have much of a choice however. Watari was out on his date and Hisoka had no interest in trolling the town after the night we'd had. I couldn't think of anyone else to call, nor could I really be bothered with trying. Maybe it was better that way; meant I wouldn't have to talk about the things I had seen that night.

Being alone didn't bother me as much as it should have, once I settled into the mood of things. I wandered down to the restaurant district, moving about the bars there. If I'd had a choice, I would have preferred Kanazawa for my night of alcohol based gluttony, a delightful castle town of winding alleys and expensive restaurants. I was very fond of the city, partly because I had a deep affinity for sight seeing, a habit of mine that has lingered since the days of my adolescence.

Kanazawa houses some of the finest old temples in Japan, including the well known Ninja temple built in 1958. Once, Watari and I had attempted to tiptoe through the temple only to find that it was riddled with secret passageways, long tunnels that meandered out into nothing, high ceilings and suicide rooms with, appropriately enough, no exit. Naturally we had been drunk at the time and after a good half hour of waddling about, hiccupping like frogs with indigestion, not only had we completely lost the entrance from which we came; we had completely lost each other. We thought it hilarious later, when we were sober but at the time it was nothing short of terrifying! Tatsumi was sent in to rescue us and in five minutes managed to do what we had been unable to in four hours. That being, retrieve our well pickled carcasses and drag us out of the temple proper. Watari had managed to wedge himself into a wall between the entrance room and a secret passage (How I don't know, even the temple staff couldn't figure it out.) whilst I was extracted from the corner of the suicide room, facing the wall and trying to convince myself that there had been a door there only a few seconds earlier.

Because of this, Kanazawa has held a very dear and near place in my heart (regardless of the expense) and I made it my business to make business whenever I had the chance. But it was simply too far out of my way that night and so I remained in Tokyo; with all my sad memories of the town to weigh me down.

After wandering through the restaurant district, taking in the sights and valorous scents and sounds, I made my way to a small and non-descript bar I had a habit of frequenting. Due to my love of sweets and somewhat tempestuous habit of…_ahem _spending my paycheck rather quickly, I had a responsibility to my begrudged self to proceed into the night with one word in mind: Cheap. This bar, whilst small, cozy and relatively friendly, was the quintessential economical, reasonably priced, easy on the pocket, simply put _cheap _establishment in this entire city. That and the place was always relatively empty. Unlike Watari I'm not booming with self confidence and I try to avoid the more rambunctious places unless I am in his company.

He was a swinger after all. That kind of lifestyle is more suited to him, rather than a Guardian like me, raised in the early 20th century.

I entered the bar and sidled up, all unobtrusive like to a well worn barstool in the far left corner. My pay packet hadn't been very generous lately, (business had been slow, what with all those damned medical advancements that extended everyone's life for a good twenty years or so) so I'd formulated a plan in my immortal mind, brilliant creature that I am. Ignoring the bartenders' impatient expression that insisted I either ordered something or at least assure him I wasn't ready to order and scanned the bar for prey.

It didn't take me too long to spot them. They always stand out like a sore thumb in my 'Freeloader radar' what with somewhat uncertain expressions usually angled towards the karaoke machine as another of their group belts out a robust version of a song by that American singer 'Madonna.' This particular individual seemed to be suffering from chronic stomach ache because he was hollering into the microphone with his face pursed up like he was sucking on a lemon.

College kids singing karaoke was like the Chinese Water torture; it slowly wears you down.

I decided to end everyone's suffering right there, performing a service of euthanasia if you would. Adopting my most pathetic and wide eyed expression, I simply got up from my stool and wandered over toward the stage, all purple eyed puppy innocence.

The college students immediately stopped to gape at me. The boy on stage ceased in his murderous onslaught, the microphone sliding from his grasp and leaving 'Madonna' to finish the performance by herself. I'm sure everyone was grateful.

"Excuse me!" I said, in what I hoped was suitably broken Japanese. It's more difficult than you would think; speaking your own language as though it is your second language. "I is wondering, is this being the place 'Hawaii Sun Bar,' yes? I canno not read the sign and I is very confused."

The college students appraised me as they might a small child. Having once been partnered with Tatsumi I had become accustomed to this type of treatment a long time ago.

Finally, one of the girls in the six person group plucked up the courage to address my dangerous self. I made a point of looking extra pathetic for her (and eventually my own) benefit.

"Are you American?" She asked in VERY LOUD AND VERY SLOW JAPANESE. Language between international countries seems to be established by this bizarre use of 'very loud and very slow' no matter what language you originally speak. It is like this unofficial rule or something. If you are very loud and very slow _everyone _will understand you.

I would like to point out here and now that as the most poorly gifted veteran of attempts to learn the English language, speaking 'VERY LOUD and very slow' does not help one tiny bit. My English arsenal is sparsely limited and seems to revolve around the topic of my shallow purse and eating. _'I have no money. Very little money. I am hungry.' _Also, I'm entirely Asian in appearance, so it was a ploy that didn't often work. Sometimes, it was worth trying just for the laugh it got.

"Yes. I am American," I replied, trying to speak Japanese with an American southern accent.

One of the older boys at the table raised an eyebrow. From that expression I would assume that he did not approve of me. Most Japanese do not approve of foreigners, _especially _those that don't look or sound foreign and are attempting to extort money from other people. I tried extra hard to look innocent and non-threatening.

"Can you say something in English, for us Gaijin-san?" He asked gruffly.

Oh shit. "I… um…" I cleared my throat and hoped to God it would come out fluent. "I HAVE NO MONEY! I AM HUNGRY!"

They all stared at me in silence for a moment and I was just on the verge of bowing and beseeching the twelve gods' that protect me, when one of the girls started giggling and clapping her hands together.

"That was amazing! What does that mean, Gaijin-san?" She asked, astounded by my profound skills in the English dialect.

"It means I am wondering if I can get a drink here? Long way from big America, you know!"

Voila. A little dishonesty on mine own behalf and I was provided with the first few drinks of the night, free of charge. Something else for me to feel guilty about naturally, but I decided to blame this one on Tatsumi for docking my pay in the first place. He was forcing me to take such measures. No one _asked _him to come and rescue Watari and me from the ninja temple. … Well, if you want to be literal about it, yeah okay, Konoe did, but _I _didn't, so there was no need to brutally slice numbers from my pay packet like some samurai assassin cutting down foes on the battlefield. I had learnt my lesson there in the corner of the Suicide room and attempting to drain my drinking income was not the way to go about it!

I waddled out of the bar at two o'clock in the morning, sloshed beyond gluttony and feeling well deserving of something sweet to sate my sudden, profound lack of energy. Unfortunately, as you would expect nothing was open at this time of night and my search for sugar came up as empty as my wallet. I wandered the darkened streets, watching lights go out in the rooms lining the walls like candles snuffed by the Counts fingers and tried to think of something to do. I was feeling very morose, despite the generous amount of alcohol sliding through my bloodstream like an insidious lovers hand, lulling me into a false sense of security.

As such, my thoughts turned to Muraki.

The white doctor had been incognito for the past year and rather than assure me in a resolute sense of finality, his quiet disappearance had only acted to further provoke my anxiety. I'd seen first hand that the doctor was unlikely to die with even the most astute of efforts taken to assure his demise. Even when I'd felt the penetration of the knife into his body, I think part of me had known even then, that that would never be enough to eradicate the undeniable Kazutaka Muraki.

Not an invincible man, but a man that had no intention of dying until it was in his own permission to do so. Something more powerful than my will, mortal frailty and all that made sense to me, was keeping him alive.

The marks on Hisoka's body proved that.

He was out there somewhere still. Waiting… waiting for another chance to move in, extend that hand, strike another down and then our game would begin afresh again.

'_Come play, Asato Tsuzuki.'_

I couldn't stand the inactivity. The fruitless, ceaseless waiting. As terrible as it may sound, I thought it may even be better should Muraki reappear. It was better to know, then to remain ignorant. I had even suggested pursuing him following Kyoto but the Judgment Bureau had established a decision to prevent any further involvement with Muraki. At least until he showed his face again.

Showed his face again… Literally, they meant of course. How can they account for his face as it reappears again and again to me, inescapable in my dreams every night? Can I not pursue him then, because he haunts my mind, chases my consciousness in circles so that every time I turn my shoulder I meet that silver gaze of his? Those cold eyes… cold eyes of a brutal murderer, a title he was unafraid to give himself and yet at the same time, he could look at me with such desire and passion…

Was this want for me, this_ passion _for me, nothing more than an obsession of a man as unwavering as his lust for the one other thing that escaped him?

Vengeance?

If it too can be called an obsession, then I have no doubt in my mind that Muraki will return for me. He spent 17 years searching for his path to avenge the dearest thing he ever lost, an obsession to enact his revenge.

How many years will he obsess for me? How many years has he _already _obsessed for me?

How many years will it take before he finally begins to see the fruits for that obsession? He is a languorously patient man, as I have seen time and time again. I doubt that this little setback will afford him too much at all.

Until he did return to fulfill his obsession however, I continually found myself glancing over my shoulder, expecting to meet that silvery stare suspended above the familiar wisp of a smile.

Just as I see it in my dreams.

Unlike my dreams however, I cannot convince myself that the man who has killed so many, the man whom lusts after me for a reason I cannot even begin to fathom, the man who verily taketh life as soon as save it…

… I cannot see that man denouncing the life that provides him with so much satisfaction. A life without guilt, without reason for guilt. Rationality beyond mortal conception in which the taking of human life is not a sin any more so than possessing violet colored eyes.

I passed a man on the corner of the main road. He was staggering and obviously a tad more drunk than I was. His tie hung at half mast and his blurry eyes struggled like an elderly man with arthritis to focus on me. I'm sure even when he did, he was seeing four of me anyway.

"All alone tonight?" He asked, well _leered _at me.

"Yeah…" I replied as I continued across the road, chin pressed to my chest as a shield against the cold wind and the harsh candor of his words. "All alone tonight."

Even when I'm sober, sometimes I cannot help but entertain the naïve and mortal procrastination, when someone hits me with a sharp and painful point like this. The obvious realization that I didn't _have _to be alone. I'm a shy man and it is this fact, more so than any other, that sees me 'all by myself' more often than not. I'm afraid of approaching people because of the fear that they might shun me, as though they have some perception ahead of time, the kind of person that I am.

The one assurance I do have, the one I always think of when I feel in need of some boost in self confidence, horribly enough, is Muraki.

As frail and human as I am, there is a part of me that reaches for even the slightest self-assurance from time to time. Something to prove that I am an acceptable creature, that I can be seen as beautiful in somebody else's eyes.

"_At first I thought just watching you was enough… but then… …no. I ached to _touch…"

In Muraki's eyes, in the eyes of that brutal serial killer—

"_-and now… I want you so _badly._"_

- I was beautiful.

And as selfish as it may seem, I liked it. In my heart of hearts, how I hate to admit it, I liked that I could always count on Muraki to see me in a positive light. Even when I failed to see it myself, a creature or darkness perceived me as being… perfect.

I'd spent a lifetime searching for one single person to accept me for all that I was. Everything that made up me; Asato Tsuzuki to the smallest cell, the blink of my eyelashes, the intake of a breath.

In all that I was, be it good or bad, Muraki desired me.

Wanted me.

I didn't have to be alone. Not that night, not any night. In the absence of friends, I could have stepped into the nightmare and entered into Muraki's dream. Fallen into his arms and found acceptance and passion beyond guilt, mortal regret and the thoughts that sent me reeling through bar after bar, searching for an escape. An outlet.

A door I could have sworn was once there.

Bitter at the tangle of my thoughts, I changed my course and wandered deeper into the city's heart, looking for bright lights and people. It was late though and the only people I came across were other drunks like me. I staggered into one emerging from a big, brazen bar in on of the main streets and we shared an impromptu introduction.

"HELLO!" He bellowed at me. I was three feet away.

"Hi!" I said, equally as exuberant. "I haven't been to bed yet!"

We both agreed that this was a stellar achievement and warmly shook one another's hands. This was clearly the greatest moment of his life. We promised to stay good friends always and send postcards and all that, before veering off on our separate ways. The man had a rosy complexion and rough hands and that is all I can remember. Undoubtedly all he can recount of me today is a tall man with eyes the color of gay pride.

A million lives I pass every day, mere glimpses into a photo album of sunsets and thousands more faces and smiles I will never set eyes on. The truth was; I would never send this man a postcard. I would never know his name. We were simply two strangers, drunk on life and regret, passing one another on a dying street, clutching desperately at one another's hands as fleeting as straws.

Transience. Mortality. All that comes must go. A life represented by a single candle, burnt down to the wick exemplifies all existence disappearing into darkness. As the candle burns, nothing is left behind. Nothing but memories, brief glimpses and a shady recollection of various features; here a rosy face, there a violet eye.

I should have drunk more that night.

By two thirty-five I was running out of steam. I started ducking into various cheap love hotels and checking for Watari's name on the register in case he had gotten lucky that night. Having failed to see any evidence of his presence at the places I entered, I began peeking into parked car windows, searching for his distinct wavy blonde hair. Once I had been chased off by several unappreciative couples, I collapsed by a lamp post, thoroughly exhausted of society in general. Several clusters of stars winked at me through gaps in the clouds, the clouds that suddenly registered my presence and decided I didn't look nearly miserable enough. An overweight raindrop struck me on the nose, followed by another. And then, another. Soon the rain was pelting down and when I tried to run and take shelter, I tripped on the gutter and landed face down in a puddle.

Could death get any better than this?

"Dammit all!" I bellowed; surfacing from the puddle and spitting dirty brown water in all directions. My entire face was streaked with mud; rain ran rivulets down from my sodden hair. I was just on the verge of telling the entire world where it could go, when my mobile phone rang.

My eyes widened considerably and I checked my watch. It was three-fifty, an ungodly hour. Who in Hades could be calling this early? Shrugging, I dragged myself to my feet and shuffled under the balcony of a nearby supply shop, only then retrieving the peeping phone from my jacket pocket. The number was unfamiliar, so it couldn't have been Tatsumi, Hisoka or Watari.

Curious, I pushed the receive button and held the phone up to my ear, plugging the other one with my index finger in an attempt to block out the sound of the rain.

"Hello?"

There was no reply. I struggled desperately to hear a sound; someone breathing at the very least but there was nothing. I was beginning to feel nervous.

"Hello, who is this?" I asked, firmly this time.

Still no reply. I grunted and was just about to abort the call when I heard someone speak. A voice that seemed to stroke my spine from top to tailbone.

"It's been a while since I've heard your voice, Tsuzuki-san."

The entire world must have stopped in that moment. My heart began to hurl itself against the wall of my chest, quickening the pace of my breathing. "Muraki…"

"Sharp as always, aren't you?" The doctor asked, still as smooth as ever. He didn't sound the least bit perturbed by what had passed between us one year ago. "Forgive me for my silence but the moment I heard you speak I didn't have the heart to say a word. I've missed hearing your voice, Tsuzuki-san."

My hands were shaking so much; I could barely keep the phone positioned beside my ear.

"YOU!!" I screamed, startling some poor teenage couple that happened to trudge by me at that exact moment. The young man nearly emptied his bladder onto the pavement. "YOU!! YOU'RE STILL ALIVE!!"

Muraki wasn't as nearly impressed with my dramatic tone as I'd hoped. He emitted a deep, weary sigh down the receiver as I gnashed my teeth threateningly into stubs.

"Yes Tsuzuki-san. I am still alive." He said very slowly in the manner someone might address a lobotomy patient. "Unless of course you are speaking to a ghost. Do I _sound _like a ghost to you?" He added sensually.

I considered my options; screaming, summoning, fainting and decided none was too appealing. I continued to grind my teeth, unable to procure even the most articulate of exclamations.

"How did you get this number?! What have you done now?!" I roared, waving my fist around in animist fury. The couple was still watching me from a safe distance. "I demand that you RELEASE whoever you are holding hostage RIGHT NOW and… don't make me COME AFTER you again or… ooooh…" I staggered into the wall, clutching at my suddenly uncooperative belly. Something in the region of my liver was having a violent disagreement with all the liqueur I'd consumed. "Oh God… this is not the best time to be having this conversation…"

"Apparently not…" Muraki said, a hint of possible concern leaking into his affected baritone. "Have you been drinking, Tsuzuki-san? You really should try to limit yourself you know. Enjoy in moderation? If you're not careful-"

"SHUT UP!!" I screamed, immediately regretting it as the volume further aggrieved the drowsy state of my cranium. Damn, I would probably need to enter into detox after this. "You're the last person I wanna hear a lecture from! What the hell do you want?! Where have you been all this time? How in Hades did you manage to get my number and why- HEY! WHY DON'T YOU JUST GET ON AN EXTENSION AND JOIN US?!"

The couple quickly made their escape, accompanied by the amused chuckles of Muraki on the other end of the line. Once they were out of sight, I returned my attention to the call, keeping my voice discreetly veiled to avoid attracting further unwanted attention.

"Why have you called me, Muraki? After everything that happened, why would you even want to?"

I cursed myself inwardly for the way I had phrased this sentence. My tone of voice seemed to encompass remorse on mine own behalf for the prior events. If anything, he was the one who should be feeling uncomfortable and guilty. Regardless how I tried to convince myself, the emotion seemed incapable of shifting itself.

Muraki didn't make it any easier. His voice was an arcane tone of sincere clemency, alluring me to place my trust in him, despite all the past disrepute's. In the drunken state I was in, it felt too much like my ludicrous dreams.

The dreams in which I was comfortable and content to believe him.

"I'd like to see you." Muraki murmured his voice uncharacteristically tentative. "I'm in Tokyo right now. My home. I would like it very much if you would pay me a visit. As for how I managed to acquire your number, I was aided in the task by a small impling in my service that procured the number from the ministry itself. A precarious task, but you are certainly worth it."

He'd summoned an imp and charged it with the task of retrieving information from the Ministry? I couldn't help but blush. He had certainly gone to a lot of trouble.

"Well, I'm flattered." I said intending for it to be delivered sarcastically. I was relieved to find my slurred voice did not fail me. "But, tell me this; are you holding someone I care for hostage, perchance I say no to your invitation, thereby giving you the chance to blackmail me into accompanying you this morning?"

"No."

"Then give me one good reason why I should visit you?" I asked tartly, my voice so cold I was certain I gave him frostbite of the ear.

Muraki couldn't have sounded more obliviously pleasant if he tried. Did you fail to detect the venom in my voice, or were you just ignoring it? As per usual? … Ah, I see, you were ignoring it. Why am I not surprised?

"I simply wanted to give you the option of joining me of your own free will." He replied curtly. "Though of course, you are going to see me tonight whether you want to or not, my dear Tsuzuki-san."

I couldn't help but cast a glance over my shoulder, almost expecting to see a tall white clothed figure standing on the corner bathed in the light from the street lamp. Ridiculous. My imagination was running away with me.

But then again… it _was _Muraki we were talking about. The man could not be expected to be rational. I turned back to the phone.

"So tell me doctor; how exactly is it that you are going to persuade me to visit you? Hmm?"

Shouldn't have gotten cocky. I knew very well that what Muraki wanted, Muraki eventually found a way of getting. Even as the phone line went dead on his response (something suitably self-satisfied and haughty undoubtedly) I felt the aching tug on my immortal substance, spearing hooks drawing my essence together. Even as my feet left the ground, I gasped as the realization hit me.

Muraki was summoning me!

I tried to resist the pull but the wrenching compacting syllables beckoned my energy to answer the call of my name with dynamic persuasion. There was little I could do to escape it. By attempting to counteract the summons my essence was only further expanded and injured, leaving my spiritual mana aching from the exertion.

Not that this stopped me from trying, mind.

No mortal had ever attempted to summon me before. It required a high level of magical efficiency, as strong as or stronger than the guardian that was being summoned itself. Not only that, you must know the name of the undead you are calling and be in possession of some material part of it. I couldn't think of what Muraki had of me, though it could have been something as small as a strand of hair. The bureau had trained me in preparation should a summoning ever occur but I still found the entire experience uncomfortable and exasperating.

For a brief, restless second my form was compacted, stretched outward like gum, and then squeezed through the impartial passageways of the Acasual space to be deposited like a bag of reeking garbage between the walls of a large, mostly bare white room.

Needless to say, I was not a happy Shinigami. Summoning a guardian requires that the being materialize in some form representative of the closest resemblance to our true form. At the outset of our service to the bureau, our essence takes the manifestation of our mortal bodies, in which we conduct our investigations and day-to-day activities.

Summoning reverses the process.

I had materialized in spiritual essence alone, which despite its' noble state, was not wholly desirable. Spiritual essence is essentially, our soul, or spirit and as clichéd as it may sound, the closest physical representation of it was something akin to a wispy cloud that sort of flouts around. The only original thing about it was that each beings essence was slightly different.

I had not assumed this state since the very earliest stages of my service, before I learnt how to maintain my human form.

To elaborate, I had the appearance of a giant bubble. A giant bubble filled with bubble bath. A giant bubble, filled with bubble bath, purple dye and an intricate overlapping wave that circled it every few seconds.

Comely, no?

Dr Kazutaka Muraki became the subject of this purple bubble baths swearing, cursing, ranting, death threats and promise of much violence for the following few minutes. The white haired man, standing discreetly in the shadows of the dark room, just smiled throughout the whole one sided exchange as though a giant bubble threatening to puncture his left lung was nothing out of the ordinary.

It is hardly intimidating, I must confess.

"Are you quite done?" Muraki asked, once I had completed a good five minutes worth of adult rated material. The bubble stopped panting and bounced furiously in the center of the room, the purple light emanating brightly.

"I haven't even started with you!" The bubble growled, the wave looping so erratically that it seemed set to shoot off of the axis and drown the murderous bastard. "After all that you have done, you still have the nerve to do _this? _WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"Now that-" He said, a smile flashing in the darkness. "Is a source of much debate. My friend Oriya has often gone hoarse in an attempt to answer it."

The bubble was not amused. It drew itself up.

"You're insane." I established for his benefit. "And you'd better release me right this second or _so help me _I will drip my essence all over this expensive carpet. Just see if I don't!"

Muraki merely straightened his glasses, calm against all sagacity. My God, here I had just threatened to decimate his undoubtedly 18th century fancy-smancy name hundred-thousand yen carpet and the man doesn't so much as bat an eyelid! I could summon up Byakko to go on a rampage of Godzilla proportions through his house and he'd probably just pour a cup of tea and offer me a biscuit.

Or he'd get off on it. He seemed to be sexually aroused by displays of power.

"Are you going to listen to me or not?" He finally asked in a world-weary tone of voice. I noticed that he seemed to be clutching his abdomen a lot; in the very place that I had stabbed him.

I calmed down enough to commute my essence together and transmute into human shape. Gravity set in and my feet touched the floor, trench coat hem brushing the carpet threads. I was still feeling moderately woozy from the alcohol but the summons had redirected much of my physical properties, clearing a large portion of my liver. Unfortunately it had also taken care of my stomach and I was now starving again. I actively sought to ignore my growling belly and focused my attention on the doctor, still standing back in the darkness. His right eye glowed from somewhere beneath the arch of hair, falling across a half of his pale face almost artistically.

I pursed my lips. "You fool. After all that happened in Kyoto, after everything you have done, you call me back? You have seen what I am capable of Muraki. Do _not _push me again, hear? I am no longer tolerant of you or your jibes."

My belligerent words were somewhat ruined by Muraki puffing out his cheeks blowing a loud raspberry. It was the single most bizarre thing I had ever seen the doctor do, considering his decorous personality that is. I was taken aback.

"Oh, do get over yourself, Tsuzuki-san." The doctor crossed the room to where I was standing. I had to consciously reign myself in as he entered my sight clearly for the first time in months.

He was as beautiful as I remembered. The moonlight darting between the half shielded curtains, cast his strong jaw line into shades that complimented his high cheekbones and ashen skin perfectly. A mercury wave of hair arched down over his face, matching the color of his one visible eye perfectly. Imposing as always, the doctor was a large man, easily six foot three, whilst I was only 5'10. To him, I suppose, I could have been little more than a doll, cradled in his strong arms. Lifted to that broad expanse of chest, framed by wide shoulders… Physically intimidating on top of everything else. A modern day Jack the Ripper.

In all honesty, the first time I had met him, I had felt an undeniable attraction. Were one unaware of his more sinister dealings, like the innocent Tsubaki, one could easily be taken in by him. Muraki was not just an attractive man; his features were striking. The beauty to stop someone dead in their tracks is something that continues to astound me even to this day. How two perfect strangers can meet and one entrance the other so wholly, so _completely _that he forgets where he is and what he is doing. Your entire universe suddenly centers on this one person.

When I had shook Muraki's hand, he left me with not the fading memory of a rosy complexion but a stain so deep I had no hope to remove it. I had remembered his name perfectly, recalled vivid details of his face, the part in his hair, the way in _which _it was parted, eye color, voice tone, mannerisms. His skin was disturbingly pale and flawless, no rosy blush to be seen such as I was so partial to. There was an intense, eloquent taint to his visible eye and his inappropriately sensual mouth seemed constantly on the verge of laughing. Laughter of a defile nature that is, cold laughter, sadly distant and seceded. His nose was perfectly straight and aristocratic; an ode to a lineage long since lost to him.

I remembered these details perfectly because I had _wanted _to remember. Like Tsubaki I had been instantly captivated.

I was utterly driven and compelled to react to him. Needless to say, I would have sent him postcards should he have turned out to be an upstanding citizen and not a psychopathic dick.

Muraki hadn't changed since the last time I had seen him. Except for one, tiny, minor detail… I couldn't help but nitpick this insignificant flaw as he stepped up close to me, smiling a gentle smile so unlike him…

"My God! You've gotten fat, haven't you?"

Just call me Subtle-san. Muraki's smile dropped like a bucket of ice water, a twitch appearing in the uppermost crease of his left eye. Clearly this was a "Sensitive-Point™." I immediately wished I'd shut my big mouth.

Muraki was amazingly composed about the remark however. He straightened the folds of his yukata and readjusted his glasses, though neither needed any treatment whatsoever. This was evidently a soothing mechanism for him.

"No…" He said slowly and LOUDLY. "I have _not _put on weight, Tsuzuki-san. It is undoubtedly the cut of the yukata, the width of my shoulders causes the material to amplify my contours."

This was an outright _lie_ and I could see that my observation had clearly rattled him. I smiled to myself, cruelly pleased I had found at least one method of unnerving my amorous enemy. For almost a year, Muraki had easily instituted technique's to demoralize me, whether it be my past guilt or inability to elude his sexual advances. Now, I had one small detail to use against him and it felt _great._

I cocked my head to the side, pretending to study him fervently. Muraki was a man in his early thirties and as a physician, I'm sure he hadn't much time to work out, so of course he'd have a bit of adipose tissue in the usual places. He did indeed seem to have gained some weight since our last meeting, a fact that very well may have been attributed to a long retreat in hospital. I nodded thoughtfully.

"Are you quite sure about that doctor? Because I'm positively certain… that you were not nearly that _corpulent _three months ago. Particularly around the waist."

Muraki bristled, trying to maintain his cool. I could see him developing a life-long complex on the spot: _"Do I really look portly? Do I?"_

As I stood there gloating, feeling suddenly much better about death in general, Muraki began to composedly light a cigarette. He drew on the emphysema riddled cylinder like a teenager with a joint and then blew a funnel of smoke from the corner of his mouth, without even removing the cigarette. His cool eyes met mine.

Then, with a sigh, he pulled open the kimono.

Oh God.

Full frontal Muraki.

Naturally, as I had not been suspecting this little… ahem, _unveiling, _I went somewhat into shock. Meaning I screamed like a little girl, covered my face with my hands and tried to spin a 180 degree angle as my face flushed like a burgundy sun burnt cherry. The point had been made however.

Muraki was definitely not as toned as he once was but he certainly wasn't _fat_. Rather, he had a very…um… healthy, robust body. His chest and slightly rounded stomach (well, he was a man in his thirties, so it couldn't be _all _perfect) were defined in the faint moonlight, revealing substantial muscle patterns shifting beneath alabaster skin like pulsing veins. The night credited perfect compliment to his body, his nudity expressing confidently the wide chest and shoulders, arrowing downward into the sensual slope of his ample hips and long legs.

A beautiful, yet wholly human piece of art.

That one glance had also been enough to inform me of Muraki's desire, endorsed by my presence that night. I swallowed heavily and licked my lips, trying not to envision how having that man inside of me would have felt, if Hisoka had not annulled my wager on the Queen Camellia.

Oh for the love of Hades, would you all stop laughing at me! I'm doing the best I can! And yes Watari, I'm aware that I am blushing you don't need to point it out to me.

I kept my back discretely turned until Muraki retied the cord of his yukata. I was only aware of his modesty until he had stepped up close behind me, threading his arms beneath my shoulders as seamlessly as a thread through needle. My face flushed even redder as he straightened his knees, slotting himself into place against my back with a soft murmur of satisfaction, allowing me to feel his passion without the slightest bit of inclination on his own behalf.

Something came to me then, a factor I had overlooked as a result of my embarrassment.

Muraki's body had been covered with marks, deep red marks not unlike a bruising or branding. They etched across his body in haphazard patterns, as though some cockeyed child had gone at him with a crayon. I had missed them at first, because the collar of the kimono was sanctioned much too close to his neck. Even so I could now see them covering his hands, arms and neck, an unsystematic vice of which was all too familiar to me, though not in reference to Muraki.

They were the lines of the curse he had left on Hisoka.

I was distracted from my thoughts by Muraki, whose hot breath upon my ear snapped me sadistically back into reality, awakening a whole series of previously undetected desires. The feeling was odious, insufferable… and all my own. How I detested myself for my failure to extinguish this physical covet for the man who had killed so many. The man who had murdered my partner and many others in cold blood.

"Do I seem alive to you?" The doctor asked sumptuously. I shivered as I felt his hands slide across my waist in opulent affection. Stroking my own hands and tracing the curves of my fingers as though inviting them to intertwine with his own.

"_Come play Asato Tsuzuki…"_

"You can feel me can't you? I'm real. Real… and very much alive." He purred gently and lowered his mouth so close to my ear, that his tongue wet my skin with each word. "You must be well aware that I am more than impressed by your display in Kyoto, my darling. But… one must not lose their modesty. The wise eagle hides its' talons, after all. Keep yourself humble as you have always been and you are that much more sublime, Tsuzuki-san."

I whimpered, trying not to let his contact get the better of me. It was dangerous and at the same time… exciting to have him this close.

"As soon as I return to the ministry, you'll have the entire summons section on your ass." I promised. "There won't be any slipping away this time, I can assure you."

I felt him smile into my hair, sighing as though the thought of a million Shinigami on his tail was simply electrifying. "Lovely. I could certainly use the exercise."

He raised a hand sharpish and I jerked back, closer to the wall of his chest, afraid that he was going to strike me. I certainly should have expected it, having bluntly accused the man of being fat.

But instead, he merely traced the pads of his fingertips across my lips. I couldn't help but tremble at the contact, my entire essence palpitating.

"Muraki…"

"Tsuzuki-san, would you please be so kind as to hear me out?" His voice was soft, his attention apparently focused on the examination of my face. "I have an offer of which I'm sure you would be most interested."

"An offer?" I repeated unnecessarily. It was difficult to concentrate when Muraki had started to kiss the skin on the back of my neck. He chuckled breathlessly, his lips making the softest noise as they parted from my flesh. Shamelessly, I found him more enticing by the minute.

"Would you like to hear what it is?"

I shook myself mentally, pulling out of his grasp with all the will I could muster. He didn't appear the least bit surprised at my actions. My refusal to give in to his ministrations had been a long running game since the moment we'd first met.

"Anything you say to me is not worth my time!" I shouted, somewhat losing the intended forceful effect as my voice pitched horribly. Muraki raised a slender eyebrow. "I don't have any reason to trust you!"

Muraki considered this for a moment as he retraced his steps across the room to where his cigarette sat smoldering in an ashtray. It had almost withered down to the filter. Nevertheless, he picked it up and drew on it thoughtfully, his aesthetic face angled toward the ceiling and his cryptic thoughts.

"Did you perhaps consider that that is exactly what I had planned to offer you?"

I bit down on my already prepared response as a cold chill rushed through my body. This all felt familiar somehow…

I realized it in a flash. My dreams…

_When I... dreamed of you, Muraki, you came to me as a being prepared to repent for his crimes and dedicate your life to rectifying all that you had come into contact with. In my arrogance, I believed it was a promise you made with the sole purpose of gaining my trust. You extended good will in order to see me smile, to make me happy._

I banished the thought immediately. The rationality of a dream was not the basis to make a decision of such magnitude. This was not a place where I would simply smile and everything would be all right. This was reality. And in this place, Muraki was a murderer, whose word could not be trusted.

"A reason to trust you? Ha! Now's there's a laugh!" I said. "You can drop the act here and now, Kazutaka Muraki, I have all the information I'll ever need and want to know about you. And a dash extra now, thanks to your indecent exposure. As a bonus, I know that you're alive and kicking, so to speak and in a few hours, I'll be shouting it from the Ministry's roof. So, if I was you I would scarper on out of here quick smart and find someplace suitably dark and damp to hide. This conversation is herby, over." I took on the semblance of dogs' ears and tail, turning my face skyward as some indication of my finality.

Muraki stubbed out the cigarette. "Tsuzuki-san…"

"Nope!" His words were cut off by my big bushy tail shoved into his face. "Talk to the tail, because the face don't wanna hear it!"

Muraki rectified this situation by grabbing me by the base of my tail and pulling me back against his body. The act should not have been sensual but his hand so close to my rear, made it entirely so. My ears flattened themselves against my head and I whined my discomfort.

"Tsuzuki-san… I know that you saw those marks on my body." Muraki stated as I struggled in his grip. "Those marks are a curse known as The _Shukusatsu_. Someone bestowed it on me a long time ago. It enforces my demonic hunger, my need to kill and take life. If I fail to sate it, the curse inflicts extreme discomfort upon me. Unbearable agony to both my mind and body. The hunger becomes so great that I eventually lose all control over it and my brutality in murder increases twofold."

I shuddered as his left hand came up to caress my chin. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because…" He said. "There is only one way to sate the curse, beloved. I _must _murder, I _must _indulge in violence. I _must _feed that hunger. But I can lessen the burden of the curse by spreading the mark, by passing it on to others. It is a virus." He paused meaningfully. "I have discovered a method to transmit the _Shukusatsu_. I passed a portion of it out of myself and into another suitable host."

I gasped. "Hisoka!"

Muraki nodded and slowly released me. I watched as he turned his back on me and slowly slid the kimono down his shoulders, revealing a wide stretch of his broad back. The straight, mysterious lining coursed over much of his skin, except for one section – the flesh here was as smooth and flawless as the surface of an egg, stretching down from his shoulder blade to the swell of one buttock. The implication was obvious; this encryption was now stamped into my partner.

"The curse on that boy is but one single branch of the _Shukusatsu_." He explained, slipping the kimono back atop his shoulders and turning to face me. "It can be seen alone on the anniversary of the night in which it was originally cast. The anniversary obviously, is tonight."

He paused meaningfully for a moment, allowing the extended silence to add weight to his words. I contemplated his implications as he crossed the room and deposited the cigarette filter into the ashtray from which he had retrieved it. There was some sort of revealing simile between the doctor and the burnt out cylinder, but my thoughts were too distracted to stint on it.

Muraki sighed as he tilted his head sidelong to gaze at me. For a minute or so, he appeared content to simply watch me in this manner, unbothered by any of the predominant physical desires that were so evident in his naked form. His firm nipples, his insistent manhood…

I found myself blushing again, and like some sort of guided signal, Muraki had crossed the room and wrapped his arm around my lower waist, lifting my body upward to meet the wall of his chest. Despite the layers between us, I was still able to feel the erect buds press to my chest and the erroneous beating of his heart, playing to the rhythm of his suddenly much heavier breath. I lost all sense in what we had been discussing as Muraki's pale, yet sumptuous lips grazed the swell of my left cheek, applying the most exploratory of kisses upon the skin. I stifled what threatened to become a keen sigh, as his free hand moved up, his long nails pressing into the opposite side of my face in the semblance of a lover. He trailed kisses up to my temple, each moist warmth contact becoming more frenzied as I shivered in his hold. It became all too clear to me, that Muraki was starved for contact. He was like a child whom had just awoken from a bad dream.

It makes a lot more sense to me now; I can say that with astute clarity.

When he appeared to have satisfied his desperate craving and slowed his passionate kisses to a lingering brush of his lips, Muraki rested his forehead to my own, tilting my head up in order to study me. I didn't want to meet his eyes, afraid that such intimacy would only entice me into something I would be unable to pull away from. But the heavy sigh he expelled was so… weak that the ignorant part of me took pity and I accepted his silver eye within my own.

I was wrong to ever think that Muraki had not changed since Kyoto. Looking at him in that moment, wrapped up tightly in his arms as though I were the most perfect treasure in the world, I could see how far he had fallen. He was like one of the roses he loved so much; once so vibrant, now dried up and wilted. He seemed older somehow. Weary.

We stood like that for a while; he with his arms around me, rocking me gently as I relaxed halfheartedly against him, praying to any of the Twelve Gods that he would not try to kiss me. In my tipsy state, I knew it would be difficult to resist. Though still a virgin, even after a good ninety years, I enjoyed kissing a great deal and for all physical purposes, Muraki possessed unrivalled skill when it came to his lips. He had kissed me before, albeit briefly and I'd pushed him away not a second after his lips had met mine. I still remember the cold cutting clap of my heart however; the soles of my feet tingling…

My greatest weakness, I suppose, is anything that affords me pleasure. Be it sweets, drinking or kissing; if it came to any of these things, I would literally be unable to hold myself back.

And this simply would not do. I know full well that I would regret it in the morning. Kissing the man who killed your partner is a big 'no-no.'

Muraki finally spoke. "I will be honest with you Tsuzuki-san. I did not just call you here just because I wanted to see you."

I rolled my eyes. "Well now, _there's _a shock."

"I called you here because I want you to trust me. I am fully aware that I have given you very little reason to do so. Be that as it may, I cannot change the past and I cannot change the man who I am. I enjoy killing. It gives me pleasure, it gives me _peace. _What does not sit well with me however, Tsuzuki-san is realizing that my actions cause you to see me in a negative light. And that is something that I can no longer tolerate. In fact, it drives me crazy."

The hand on my waist tightened so that it found itself hooked about my hip, his lower arm locked into the hallow of my back. My eyes widened as his free arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me tight against him, allowing his face to fall upon the crook of my neck. He embraced me in such a tender, devoted way. A way in which defied all that this creature had come to represent. Muraki was loath to be seen as weak in any sort of circumstance and the emotional need he was exemplifying now, was a thorough contradiction of this. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to hug him back. He might have taken this as a doting 'come hither' and tried to take my clothes off or something. Not to mention I was somewhat reluctant to comfort self confirmed serial killers. I chose to simply stare straight ahead at the white walls as his hands caressed unknown patterns into my back, tracing a scripture of silent words and whispered allusions. Muraki whispered into my ear; his breath hot and suggestive.

"You have done something to me, Tsuzuki-san. Something I never considered possible. Whenever you come into proximity with me, let alone touch me as you are now, I find the curse becomes tranquil, lulled into amity by your very presence. You free me from the desire, the ache, the necessity of restraining my demonic presence by taking life from others." He sighed thoughtfully, one hand cupping the crown of my head as he trailed the side of his face up against mine. The skin-to-skin contact was more than enough to shatter my resolve to tolerate his advancements. I gave a momentary, persuasive struggle but Muraki's will was more insistent than my own. He simply pulled me against him tighter and for my efforts; I was awarded with the feeling of his erection pressing against my upper thigh. I cursed myself inwardly and tried not to let him see the tears swelling in the corners of my eyes. Muraki ignored my discomfort and simply smiled, obviously enjoying his feeling of dominance over me. I saw the glint of his artificial eye beneath his bangs and I had to stop myself from spitting in it.

"Here's the deal." He said. "I'm putting myself on a 'good-behavior-bond'. I would like to have more contact with you and owing to your… particular feelings about the taking of human life, if this should imply that I must forego killing henceforth, than I will gladly do it. Be mindful however, that I need to be in close proximity to you whenever I feel the urge, as you are able to remedy me of it. Do you understand, Tsuzuki-san?"

I was about to tell him where exactly he could shove his proximity, when he suddenly thrust his index and middle finger into my mouth. He grinned humorously as he used them to separate my jaws as widely as possible. I garbled in protest.

"I know what you're about to say," he intoned, chuckling as I brought both my hands up to attempt to force his fingers out of my maw. "You are truly noble to a fault, Mr. Tsuzuki. You would be unable to even consider the possibility of my vow of righteousness, should I not first extend a token gesture of goodwill, correct?"

I nodded as much as I was able.

"Then let me finish making my offer, hmm?" He continued to grin as I struggled not to choke on his invading digits. Once I'd confirmed my willingness to listen, he retrieved his fingers from where they had been jammed against the back of my throat. I gagged and flushed my tongue around the interior of my mouth a little, trying to expel the dry, intrusive feeling. Muraki made a very insincere 'aww' noise and rubbed his thumb over my lips.

"I do apologize for that, my darling. But I am quite frustrated and you are simply not making my efforts any easier, now are you?"

"You're frustrated?!" I choked. "Here I am, minding my own business in the early hours of the morning, when suddenly I'm yanked right out of the street by a man who, when he's not murdering innocent people, is trying to either slither into my pants or cut my head off! So forgive me if-" Muraki raised his fingers threateningly and I cut off my rant sharpish. He gave me a very conceited smile and patted my cheek.

"Good boy," He said as though I were a dog learning a new trick. I had a feeling that this was a trick he was going to enjoy teaching me a great deal. "Now, where was I? Oh yes. Trust. I was thinking Tsuzuki-san, that despite my inability to withdraw my past discretions, I may be in some small way, be able to remedial them. Mediocre efforts at best, as my actions are far too advanced in order to atone for. However, for some sake of familial harmony Mr. Tsuzuki, if it will give you even the slightest inclination to trust me; I would like to take back the part of the curse I placed upon that boy."

"His name is Hisoka." I mumbled, but my rebuke was very empty. He had tweaked my interest. "You can take back the curse?"

"Certainly." He replied, as he caressed my cheek with the very tips of his knuckles. It tickled my skin a little, this temperate action. "As easily as I am able to pick up a jigsaw piece and place it back within the puzzle. The curse will reattach itself to me."

"But… if what you say is true… about the curse empowering your demonic desire, won't this only make it stronger?"

The doctor made a placid, yet definitive nod of his head. "A small price to pay for your trust, my love."

The dog-ears re-emerged from my head, like soldiers rising from a trench after a shoot out and I gave Muraki a good long stare. To be honest, I couldn't see the harm in accepting his proposal now. If he truly did desire to gain my trust, I would be performing a great service to the current living population of the world by helping him restrain his 'killer instinct.' And if it managed to free Hisoka from the curse, then so much the better. Angry though I was with the man, I'd always found him to be somewhat reliable, at least when it came to his attraction to me. If I used this weakness, his passionate infatuation with me, he would be able to be kept under close observation by the bureau. His actions monitored. Whether or not he was as corrupt as before remained to be seen.

I placed a finger considerately on my chin and waved my tail from side to side. "And if you do this, take away Hisoka's curse; I will have a reason to trust you, yes?"

Muraki shrugged, his hand sliding down my back towards my bottom. I swished my tail a little more insistently, hoping this was enough to dissuade him. "That is entirely up to you."

"Well, in that case, we'll see." I said, pulling myself out of his arms just as his hand found it's' mark atop one of my buttocks. He distributed a little squeeze to the muscle before releasing me, leaving my face a deep mauve I'm sure he found enchanting. Muraki smiled and raised both hands beside his head, the paragon of innocence.

"I'll leave it entirely up to you, my dear." He repeated as I patted my poor violated posterior. "If you are satisfied with my gift however, I would very much like for you to join me tomorrow night at this restaurant, right here in Tokyo." He handed me a business card, designed with formal gold calligraphy. "Ask for me at the door. Seven-thirty. I will be more than happy to cover expenses."

Hot damn, dinner _and _a date. I tucked the card into my trench coat pocket. "Like I said; we'll see doctor." I looked around, drinking everything in for the first time. "This is your home?"

Muraki seemed rather emboldened now. He nodded, straightening his glasses out of habit. "It is."

"It's nice." I admitted. "What room is this? Seems kinda bare, not to mention cold."

"This is a multi-purpose room, used mostly for magical measures such as summoning, spell casting, channeling, invoking and so on. As such, you should be most fortunate that I did not summon you into a pentagram, which would have left you helpless against my dealings."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then why didn't you?"

He looked mildly annoyed. "Because I want you to _trust_ me, Tsuzuki-san. Summoning you here was a great enough inconvenience, incapacitating you was not going to win me any favors."

"You got that right!" I snorted. I took another liberal look around. The room was about two thousand square feet, quite an expenditure for a 'magical measures' room. If he could afford to waste such space on a tinkering area, it made me wonder what the rest of the house was like.

When I mentioned this to Muraki, he seemed all set to play tour guide.

"This house was built in the late 1700's," He garbled with a misty sort of look in his cat like eye. "It has been in my family for sixteen generations. I am the last, of course. There are thirty servants employed here to take care of the house and surrounding land, many of which have been employed here since I was a child."

All of a thousand years for all I knew. I nodded and pretended I was interested, a tactic much practiced in light of Tatsumi's annual 'Department Funding' meetings.

"The land was divided into blocks forty years ago by my father and sold to other families, cutting back on our own monetary responsibilities, allowing us to focus our funds more fully on developmental surgery."

I smothered a yawn and wondered if I could make it to the window before he noticed me. I was just starting to edge away from the center of the room, when he glanced over at me, his eyes verily dancing.

"It was around that point when a priest was called in to exorcise the house." He told me happily. "An unsuccessful exorcism as it were. This house is a case book study history for haunting."

I froze, one leg extended with the toe pointed like a ballerina in mid step. A tiny influx of mild panic turned the blood cold in my veins.

"Ghosts you say?"

Muraki's window didn't pose much of a dilemma following _that _little announcement. I'm certain I gave the good doctor something to chortle about as I hurled myself through the frame work without even touching the surface, plummeted three floors down, then ran from the house screaming hysterically; not from the former psycho-killer, but from the _mention_ of a ghost. Being an undead myself, you would think I would relinquish any former stigmas on the grounds of wispy white beings floating about in sheets and moaning like a wolf with period pain. I know this and yet, I don't care. I don't like ghosts. They scare me. They've scared me since I was a little boy and they continue to scare me until this day. At the mention of the 'possible woman ghost' on the Queen Camellia, Hisoka had to forcefully wrestle me out of a life boat. Even then I nearly jumped overboard wearing a life vest, prepared to risk gale force winds and sharks, if only it meant I wouldn't have to face off with a see through specter. If Muraki had any idea of the extension of my ghost phobia, he would have done well never to mention it. I swore then and there, as I ran through the chilly frost bitten streets of Tokyo that I would not be dragged back into that house by anything short of Armageddon. Even then, it would be a definite last refuge.

Somehow, I made it back to my apartment in _Sakura Zensen_, my heart still throbbing in my ears. I had survived a brush with zombies, monsters Muraki _and _a haunted house. All in all, I felt pretty accomplished and decided to congratulate myself by texting Watari. I don't think he would have particularly cared at that point in time, but I felt as though I needed to brag to someone.

Once I had sent the text, I unchanged from my suit and dressed for bed. I collapsed in an exhausted, tipsy heap upon the covers, my hand tossed ineloquently across my forehead.

I found myself gazing at the ceiling.

Muraki wanted peace. Wanted and desired to sate the demonic side of him that was starved for a hunger I had condemned within me my whole life.

Were we really so different after all?

There was something very revealing in all of this, but at the time I was much too weary to figure it out. I decided to wait until tomorrow and find out if Muraki could indeed be trusted with his words. If Hisoka's curse was vanquished, it might be worth attending dinner with him.

And if all went well, the killer known as Kazutaka Muraki may become a man dedicated as once he had been, to saving lives. Saving lives without taking them.

A good doctor. A good man.

"_Tsuzuki-san, I vow never to act in a way that would dishearten you. I don't want to see you sad."_

A world in which there never needed to be a reason to believe in someone. Trust without the extension of proof. A million faces and a million lives all passing me by at a million miles per hour.

None of this made sense.

The worst and the best night of my life. When everything ended for so many people, I was stepping through that door that for so long had been closed to me.

The moon bled again.

_**- EC -**_


	4. Watari: Through Another's Eyes

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own it. Don't sue me.

**Note: **Watari's POV. This rewrite makes a lot of significant changes that affect the overall storyline. The specifics of the murders themselves are different, what happens to the surviving victim is different and of course there are time frame changes. An additional scene was added to the end of the chapter where Ichibana the djinni and bound servant of Watari is introduced and a trip to the bar after Tsuzuki's date with Muraki is organized. That will be added around chapter six! Warnings for the chapter are the usual; some course language, gore and… oh, I don't know, the inclusion of cigarettes. The author does not encourage the use of cigarettes and does not promote them being awesome or being able to make you cool and whatnot. I personally smoke and it is an unhealthy personal choice but I am an adult and I make my own decisions. With that being said; enjoy!

_**~ X ~**_

_Come with me_

_We took a back road_

_We're gonna look at the stars_

_We took a back road, in my car_

_Down to the ocean_

_It's only water and sand_

_And in the ocean we'll hold hands_

_But I don't really like you, _

_Apologetically dressed in the best but on a heartbeat glide_

_Without an answer_

_The thunder speaks from the sky_

_And on the cold wet dirt I cry_

_And on the cold wet dirt I cry_

_Don't you wanna come with me?_

_Don't you wanna feel my bones on your bones?  
It's only natural_

_A cinematic vision ensued_

_Like the holiest dream_

_Is someone calling?_

_An angel whispers my name,_

_But the message relayed is the same_

"_Wait 'til tomorrow, you'll be fine"_

_But it's gone to the dogs in my mind_

_I always hear them_

_When the dead of night_

_Comes calling to save me from this fight_

_But they can never wrong this right_

_Don't you wanna come with me?_

_Don't you wanna feel my bones on your bones?_

_It's only natural_

_Don't you wanna swim with me?_

_Don't you wanna feel my skin on your skin?_

_It's only natural_

_(Never had a lover)_

_I never had a lover_

_Never had a soul_

_I never had a soul_

_(Never had a good time)_

_And I never had a good time_

_(Never got cold)_

_I never got gold_

_Don't you wanna come with me?_

_Don't you wanna feel my bones on your bones?_

_It's only natural_

_Don't you wanna swim with me?_

_Don't you wanna feel my skin on your skin?_

_It's only natural_

_Don't you wanna come with me?_

_Don't you wanna feel my bones on your bones?_

_It's only natural_

_Come and take a swim with me_

_Don't you wanna feel my skin on your skin?_

_It's only natural_

_**~ "Bones" ~ **_

_**- The Killers**_

**Through Another's Eyes**

"_A man does not die of love or his liver or even of old age; he dies of being a man." ~__**Percival Arland Ussher**_

**Watari**

I would just like to go on record as saying, that I am _not _a swinger Tsuzuki. I was only entering my early teens in the sixties, which is much too young, even for me, to be participating in any 'swinging' activities, thankyou.

Just wanted to clear that up.

Tsuzuki's recall of events occurred the night before I became aware of the particulars of his early morning rendezvous. We were all sitting in the Conference Room eating breakfast, when Tsuzuki showed up dragging his feet as per usual. When I say all, I am of course referring to myself, Hisoka Kurosaki, Hajime Terazuma, Kanuuki Wakaba, Seiichirou Tatsumi and the head of the Summons Section, Rokuro Konoe. It came as no surprise to us that Tsuzuki arrived late, looking disheveled and predictably weary. This was a regular occurrence in the Summons Section and one we had all come to accept as inevitable, regardless of whether or not Tatsumi threatened to dock his pay the next time he was tardy.

So there we all were, sipping coffee and munching assorted pastries, when Asato Tsuzuki staggered in, nearly tripping over his untied shoelaces and landing face first in my croissant. I shot him a warning look and pushed the chair beside me backwards as some minor assistance in the tenacious task of seating his somnolent ass down. He didn't even seem to notice the sporadic arrangement of sweets spread out before him, something akin in Tsuzuki's world as not noticing oxygen.

I knew there and then that this was undoubtedly going to be an unusual day.

"I'm so excited!" Wakaba chirped as she sipped her extra strong black coffee and munched on a jam donut. She and I shared one familiar trait; we were both addicted to caffeine. Addicted and suited to being addicted. The younger guardian and I were usually so wired it became something of our responsibility to set the mood for the rest of the group. "My vacation's coming up soon, so I was thinking of heading off to this beach resort in the town where I used to live. It'll be great to get out there to catch the sun and have some re-laxout-ation!"

Terazuma sipped his coffee and scowled. "Well I'm glad _someone _at least will be having a good time. Because _some _of us have had our vacation cancelled because _someone _got them riled and forced _someone _to slam their head into the vending machine." He cast Tsuzuki a particularly dirty look. The brunette seemed distracted and didn't retaliate with his usually witty comeback. Terazuma snorted and continued. "_Some _of us don't have to spend the next week in their office, catching up on paper work and old case studies because of their completely 'unprovoked' behavior. _Some _of us-"

"Hey, back off buster!" I snapped as Tsuzuki sank down into his chair, obviously upset, which was definitely unusual for him. Clearly he was in one of his blue funks and being yelled at by Terazuma wasn't going to improve his depression any. "It's not Tsuzuki's fault that _you _have trouble controlling your temper. Just like it's not your fault that you tend to change into a grotesque monster whenever you get within two feet of an X chromosome. So really, can we try and keep it mellow this morning, boys? I don't think I can handle watching the two of you trading empty insults across the table."

Since the traumatic events of Kyoto, I felt compelled to mother my fellow guardian when he got into situations like this. But that is simply because Tsuzuki in particular, doesn't stand up for himself! Most of the time, he is so overwhelmed by his insecurities that he tends to let just people walk all over him. On occasion he just needs a little reminder of his own self worth, his own right to be treated accordingly.

Terazuma rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his coffee. Terazuma had blue hair and pointed ears, and though he and Tsuzuki were the same height the shifter was somewhat more formidable in stature. He was serious and sometimes acted like he knew everything, but like most brash people, where it really counted he had a good heart. He was fully devoted to his partner, Wakaba, a protective urge that I found awfully endearing. And enviable.

"Listen, I said I was sorry," Tsuzuki said. "But you should have had the sense not to creep up behind me wearing a sheet. You _know _how much ghosts scare me!"

Tsuzuki was certainly the most powerful guardian in the ministry to date, if you did not include Tatsumi who was now restricted to secretarial duties and money hoarding. Despite his capabilities, Tsuzuki has this unrivalled knack for getting into and making trouble. Trouble of which he usually needs to be fished out of, lickity split, usually by other agents. Not me however. Though I am undoubtedly the most exceptionally brilliant prodigy of the Summons Section, my charge of Kyoto remained relatively quiet and my duties revolved loosely about assisting the other guardians in intelligence issues and scientific work. The previous nights eleventh-hour shift at the Tachiagari had been the one notable exception in a sustained period of non-activity.

"Back to my vacation!" Wakaba exclaimed, munching on one of Terazuma's donuts. "I think we should all try to take some time off together, so we can have fun this summer! Come on! It's about time we all did something as a group, something outside of work and breakfast. Right, Watari?"

Like Hisoka, Wakaba had become a Guardian at a very young age. She was first employed here fifteen years ago but she wasn't sure if she could ever get used to the line of work. Wakaba was no coward but it seemed like every time you took a wrong turn in this business, you put the responsibility of somebody's death on your shoulders. It could get wearing.

Kannuki Wakaba has long curly brown hair and an energetic attitude. She is one of those people who seem to go through life without a care in the world. Being dead now, didn't seem to defer her in the slightest.

I grinned and raised my cup. "You've got my vote! Though I don't see why we need to have any more fun than what we do here. At least we don't get bored!" I smiled at Tsuzuki and winked. "Though I wouldn't mind having some time to myself every once in a while. I enjoy my own company."

"I don't know how you ever came to that conclusion. Considering that you've never spent a night alone in your entire life, not to mention death." Terazuma remarked, taking a long sip from his coffee.

Tatsumi linked his fingers and set them daintily upon the bridge of his nose. "Oh wonderful. Here they go, taking up the slack for Tsuzuki's lack of attention."

I sat up straight, set down my cup and glared at Terazuma.

"And what exactly do you mean by that, Hajime?"

The blue haired man also set down his cup. It was on.

"What? Has all that bleach corroded your brain? Think blondie. It is pretty damn clear what the Hell I'm referring to."

"You just have to keep on running your mouth off because you're not in touch with your inner sexuality." I retorted, leaning across the table. "And my hair color is _natural _you freak! I'm a halfie!"

Terazuma shrugged. "In more ways than one. This _is_ coming from the man who chose to be bisexual because it was the only way he would have access to 100 percent of the human race. At least I've chosen a team to play for you equal-opportunity bimbo."

I bristled. "People like you are the reason that society is close minded and superficial. Simply because you are threatened by alternative lifestyles and cannot accept them, you openly chose to discriminate against them. You're being extremely homophobic condemning my sexual preferences."

Terazuma looked annoyed and I waited for Tatsumi to butt in as he always does. He likes breaking up our morning exchange, when really it is only a bit of fun to put us in the right frame of mind. The shadow master straightened his glasses and moved as though to rise from his chair, when I saw Mr. Konoe shake his head at him. _'Let them be,' _he mouthed. Goodie! Finally I would be able to finish one of my altercations in peace!

"Just because I made a remark about your inability to sleep alone, does not mean I'm a homophobe, Watari." Terazuma growled, his grip on the coffee cup tightening. "Besides, what do you mean by 'sexual preference?' You don't have one! You'd sleep with animals if it wasn't illegal and they didn't move fast enough!"

"How _dare _you accuse me of bestiality!" I snapped.

"How _dare _you accuse me of being a homophobe!" Terazuma shouted back.

"I didn't say per say that you are a homophobe, I said you had homophobic_ tendencies_!" I corrected smarmily, hands on my hips in a know-it-all-way.

It seemed as though Tatsumi had reached the end of his restraint and put up both his hands. "You are both superb Shinigami, full of vibrancy, open-mindedness and fully in touch with your inner sexuality. Now, would the two of _you _please stop hurling _your _empty insults over the table and let us finish our breakfast?"

Terazuma huffed. "Ok. No problem."

I returned to my coffee. "He started it."

"Shhh…" Mr. Konoe cautioned, flickering his finger back and forth between us. "You _both _started it. And I don't want to hear another peep out of either of you until the conclusion of our meal."

It was precisely at that moment, that I remembered I hadn't turned my phone on and quickly fished it out of my pocket to do so. As soon as the screen lit up, it beeped merrily to inform me that I had a message. Mr. Konoe dropped his bagel and shot me a pointed glare.

"Take it outside if you want to read messages, Watari." He told me. I nodded, muttered 'Yessir' and made my way into the hallway. I trotted out along the dark passageway, squinting in order to see the tiny screen as I brought the message up. It was from Tsuzuki:

"**HI! WAS JUST IN A HAUNTED HOUSE! EEK! GOT AWAY THOUGH. NEED 2 TALK 2 U. CALL ME SOON AS U CAN, K? OR SPEAK 2 ME 2MORROW? CYA.**

**P.S I HOPE UR DATE WENT WELL!"**

I laughed a little to myself. Tsuzuki still wasn't quite used to advancing technology and found the use of gadgets like mobile phones a little… complex. Hence the extended use of all caps. I leant my back against one of the stonewalls, wondering what he had been doing in a haunted house of all places…

"Guess you weren't in any state to be checking your messages last night, huh?"

I looked up as Tsuzuki came trotting towards me, his hands buried deep into his suit pockets. I smiled a little apologetically.

"Sorry Tsuzuki. I had… _other _things on my mind."

"So I figured." He said, smiling knowingly. I sighed and rested my head back against the wall.

"Not what you would think. What were you doing in a haunted house, anyway?"

"Oh that? It's a long story." Tsuzuki ambled over to the wall opposite me and slid down it, into a sitting position, violet eyes staring up at me expectantly. "I was out and about last night and… well, I sort of got called into one." Brushing that aside, he leant forward and wrapped his arms around his knees, giving me his full attention. "So… talk to me of your date! How did it go? Did you end up at a cheap love hotel, or what?"

I groaned as I slipped my phone back into my pocket. Tsuzuki exclaimed.

"Oh, now _that _wasn't a happy noise, now was it? Details send them my way!"

I sat down into a sitting position also and crossed my legs. "What the Hell is up with men these days anyway?"

His expression was highly scrupulous. "You really don't expect me to answer that, do you?"

Knowing Tsuzuki's track record with men (only one solid relationship, outside of the murderous Dr. Satan himself and I'm not sure that that really counts) I suppose this really was a rather pointless question. The older guardian, though having almost fifty years head start on me, was still chaste, something he had once admitted to me and has regretted ever since. Especially when I adopted the nickname 'Chastity Boy' for him; a title he loathes with a passion.

"So, I have dinner with this guy from the Detriment Section. We head into that nice, not to mention _expensive, _themedrestaurant I was tellin' you about. I had to pay for everything, whilst he just sat there, attempting to enlighten me on the prospects of inter-dimensional subversive demonic revolutions."

"I thought you would have enjoyed a conversation like that?" Tsuzuki said, picking at something beneath his cuticle. I ran a hand through my long bangs and straightened my glasses.

"I thought I would have too and that is what made the situation so damn intolerable! The man was dead boring. And after all that shit that went down at the Tachiagari too, you would have _thought _he might have asked me a little something about it, but no! He could have put an insomniac to sleep." I bowed my head a little, causing my glasses to slip down again. I pushed them back up closer to my eyes. "So as I sat there, trying desperately not to fall asleep all I could think about was… well, Kyoto."

Tsuzuki waved a dissuading hand. "Please Watari; you don't need to worry about that. The last thing I need is for you to get all soppy and sentimental on me! Tough it out, man!"

See what I mean? It's all about _Tsuzuki. _Everything somehow relates back to Tsuzuki, Tsuzuki, Tsuzuki. Kyoto was my charge and every time I mention it now, every time I would be sent off on a mission there, all everyone would ever think about is 'The Kyoto file.' Didn't matter what other… ahem, _interesting _prospects were in Kyoto. Nope. Because of the 'incident', the place now has an automatic stigma attached to it. I sweat dropped.

"Well, actually I wasn't referring to _that, _Tsuzuki. I was thinking about a _person, _in general."

Rather than look annoyed at my lack of sensitivity, Tsuzuki's face seemed to light up. He leaned forward over his knees, the dog-ears and tail integrated into his human form appearing from their respective places. Usually a sign that he was happy, interested, excited or hopeful. I'd often wished I'd thought to do this. How endearing a trait it was!

"Ah, so you've met someone in Kyoto, then?" Tsuzuki asked. His tail wagged happily to and fro when I nodded. "You sly scientist, you! So… what's her name? Or _his _for that matter?"

I leant back against the wall, hands pressed to my knees and a beaming smile plastered on my face. "Oriya."

Tsuzuki's expression froze. His tail was sucked back into his body like spaghetti; his ears flopped down as if they had lost all their gusto. He stared at me, as though expecting me to announce that I had been joking. I hadn't. He was staring for a long time.

"Oriya_ Mibu_?" He finally asked. I nodded. Tsuzuki's struggled for something suitable to say. "According to the Kyoto report I read… isn't he… Muraki's best friend?"

I shrugged. "So? That's not a good enough reason to condemn someone. You're Muraki's boyfriend, yet you don't see me crossing the street to avoid you now do you?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Said Tsuzuki, blushing. "I'm _not _Muraki's boyfriend!"

I ignored him, intent on getting my point across. "It occurred to me last night as I was sitting there listening to Mr. Boring insult my brain. Oriya may just be the perfect man. He seems intelligent, he's loyal… he has a killer body…"

"And a killer _best friend._" Tsuzuki repeated, as though providing an accent to the words would somehow make the implication graver. It didn't.

"You never even met him Tsuzuki and I'm sure that if you did, you would agree with me. Though… it's probably a good thing you didn't, come to think of it. He just struck me as an interesting guy. Dr. Satan's best friend or not, he's… really quite something Tsuzuki. And considering my luck with dating as of late, I would hope that you would support me in this current development."

Tsuzuki stared at me. Then he reached out, took my hands and looked into my eyes.

"He's _Muraki's _best _friend."_

I gave up. "Now why is it that I tell you anything?" I wondered, climbing to my feet.

Tsuzuki wobbled into a standing position also and bounced up behind me, grabbing my wrist to keep me from storming back to breakfast in a despondent rage. He smiled a little and waved his hand.

"Watari, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just… worried about you."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Worried about me? Whatever for?" I chuckled.

He shrugged a little and scuffed his feet. "I dunno. You just seem a little… lonely lately, that's all. I mean, here you are talking about chasing after a guy you've seen maybe what… once? You don't know anything about him really!"

The word's stung but I tried not to let it show. Tsuzuki was right… I was lonely. Despite my earlier rebuttal, I'd heard some truth in Terazuma's words also. I wanted someone to be devoted to me, completely and utterly. A person who was loyal and honest, who would take care of me. I was sick of ending up in hotels with superficial, mean spirited men who didn't care for you as a person once they had what they wanted.

I suppose that's what made me think of Oriya.

In the month's following the Kyoto incident, I'd found myself pondering over his reasons for maintaining ties with a man like Muraki. A killer. A cold-blooded murderer with no compassion or empathy for human life whatsoever. Oriya was a… noble man. An honorable man with a good heart and a strong sense of justice.

How someone with such profound gentility could stand by and accept Muraki was beyond my ability to interpret. If one of my friends woke up one day and decided they were going to be a serial killer, I'm not so sure I could support their decision. Yet, Oriya did not support Muraki's lifestyle either. He condemned it. Abhorred what he did, advised against it. But he did not condemn Muraki himself, not even when his own life was endangered because of his relationship with him.

Was it because he was in love with him? Somehow this did not seem to justify Oriya's decision to remain impartial to his best friend's dealings. Truly, it was an unusual relationship…

The only resolution I had been able to make was that Oriya was simply one of those impeccably dedicated and steadfast people, who would remain faithful despite a person's faults.

This, to me, is an incredibly attractive quality. I'd never been particularly reliable in the years I had been alive, so to come across someone who displayed such gracious tendencies was very much appealing.

It didn't hurt that the man himself was tall, dark and handsome either.

Tsuzuki swung his arms back and forth in the air as he paced across the hallway with incredibly short steps. I broke myself out of my dream world long enough to focus my attention on him. When Tsuzuki did this, it usually meant that something was on his mind. If I needed to be absolutely certain, all I would need to wait for was for him to start sighing.

Tsuzuki sighed.

"Ah ha! I know _that _sound!" I crowed, waltzing over to him and pointing directly between his eyes. "What's bothering you? Come on, spill the beans…"

Tsuzuki nervously wrung his fingers, cracking the knuckles out of habit. It didn't take much to persuade him to talk this time however, something of a new development in Tsuzuki's psychological profile. He was usually as difficult to crack as a walnut with your teeth.

"You bringing up Oriya just now… it reminded me of… something else."

"Hey… what's the matter, Tsu?" I asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He moved out of my grasp only to keep pacing, making mild gestures with his hands.

"Last night… M-Muraki called me."

Suddenly all the lights went out. Red emergency alarms began to flash from all corners of the hallway. Guardians in full riot gear proceeded out the doorway, carrying various occult weapons and high-powered machinery. Blood began to rain from the heavens. The earth split open and demons crawled out from the fissure and began to consume all the breakfast sweets, not to mention the guardians that had been feasting on them. The angels screamed in mortal dread and wept in sympathy.

Okay, not really. All that happened was a damn near fatal crapping of ones self whilst I struggled to keep from passing out. Tsuzuki's expression was suitably malign.

"He's still alive?!" I gasped.

The brunette nodded. "Oh yes. Very much alive as he so kindly proved to me last night."

That was it. I was going to war. Tsuzuki jumped in shock as I whipped my writing pad out of my pocket and had in seconds constructed an effective (if not shoddily drawn) block of wood with three nails sticking out the top of it. I stormed towards the door, brandishing it threateningly.

"Just tell me where he lives Tsuzuki and I'll take care of it. Don't you worry about a thing!" I exclaimed courageously.

"Uh… Watari…?"

"Never fear! I'm on the case! NO ONE and I mean NO ONE takes advantage of my little Chastity Boy and gets away with it! I tell you, I will TAKE HIM _OUT_!!"

Tsuzuki's cheeks flamed red and he quickly leapt in front of me, blocking the door with his arms and legs. I shook the stick at him.

"Watari, take it easy! He didn't molest me! And don't call me Chastity Boy." He added.

I paused in the task of perfecting my indisputably famous Genghis Khan swing of doom and stared at him dubiously. "We're talking about Kazutaka Muraki, right?"

"Yes."

"Well then, he molested you." I established firmly. "Muraki is a molesterer. A sexual molesterer. He sexually molests people, _you _in particular. I'm not sure how he managed to over the phone but-" Something clicked, like a key in a lock. "You were at his house last night, weren't you? That was what you meant by haunted house isn't it? You were speaking in code!"

Tsuzuki ran a hand through his hair. "He summoned me there; it wasn't like I had much of a choice! And the house really _was _haunted. …I wasn't speaking in code."

"Muraki _summoned _you? Seriously?!" I was bewildered. "Surely you had your anti-summons tag cast, didn't you?"

Tsuzuki looked sheepishly at his shoes.

"Tsuzuki…?"

"It might have… hem… slipped my mind…"

I rolled my eyes. This boy had to have the most slippery mind on the whole damn planet. His brain would slip out of his ear if he titled his head too sharply.

"Wonderful." I said. "Well, this Muraki fellow certainly is bright. For a mortal to learn the technique of summoning a Guardian, despite how stimulating he seems to find your presence… very impressive…"

"You have this nasty habit of flattering our enemies." Tsuzuki said, frowning. "I don't care how he did it, but he did it because he wanted to make me a deal."

"I'm guessing something in that deal involved the expenditure of your virginity…" I muttered, loud enough for him to hear. Tsuzuki slapped my upper arm, hand enough to leave behind a handprint. I rolled up my sleeve and watched it fade away as my healing ability kicked in.

"Don't get cute, Watari. That situation I got into last night was very informative, despite the involvement of Muraki himself. I managed to learn a few things you might just be interested in."

"Such as?"

He considered for a moment and then jabbed his fist into his opposite palm, as though resolving something.

"He wants to see more of me, so he's going to play nice from here on in. Or so he says. As a… _token _gesture I suppose, he promised to remove Hisoka's curse by the time the sun came up. If he does well… I'm supposed to go to dinner with him tonight."

I took a moment to consider this, before coming up with a nippy observation.

"You're an idiot." Said I. "One small gesture of good will is not enough to compensate for a lifetime of murder, rape and pain. The agony he has caused dozens, possibly hundreds of people cannot be undone so easily. This… _removal _of the kids curse, is only a drop in the ocean. A tiny, insignificant expenditure to him. Practically nothing. He is not to be trusted Tsuzuki. I forbid you to go."

Tsuzuki blinked and scratched his chin. "What, so you're my father now?"

"Yes." I said without hesitation. Tsuzuki rolled his eyes.

"Watari, I feel the exact same way you do. But Muraki knew that was how I was likely to feel and more so, he understands that he cannot hope to reconcile himself by one small act. I think it is the safest route to take. At least this way, our job will be easier, huh? We can cut down on the number of deaths."

I nodded and took my glasses off, in order to rub my tired eyes. "And what exactly do we have to give in return for Muraki to act like an altar boy?"

I knew exactly what Muraki would have required in exchange for his good behavior. But I wanted to see Tsuzuki's own feelings on it, his own opinion. The dark haired guardian shifted a little and sank his hands back into his pockets, hunching his shoulders forward. Coupled with the dark clothes, it was fairly easy to see that this posture reflected a man who liked to shade himself from the rest of the world. It was a non-approachable, guarded façade and one that seemed to serve him all too well. Honestly… if Tsuzuki had some idea of his own sexuality, he could be quite dangerous. I think Muraki understood this perfectly and used the guardians' ignorance to his advantage.

"He… well… he only said that he wants to be near me whenever he… feels the need to kill. The curse he put on Hisoka it's… part of a curse that someone else put on him. He was trying to get rid of it piece by piece because it makes him act violent or something like that." Tsuzuki rubbed his forehead. "He's kind of hard to understand because he talks in riddles all the time. But from what I gather, my presence seems to help him counter the curses effect. That's all he wants… in exchange for the surrender of his previous life."

I stifled a snort. How convenient that Tsuzuki was the only thing able to prevent Muraki from taking to people with a carving knife. A little _too _convenient if you asked me. Such an elaborate scheme would not be unexpected from the doctor, as far as I knew about him.

Tsuzuki stretched, raising his arms high above his head. In my hand, the block of wood gave a shudder as though it were alive and then slowly faded from reality. My ability to bring inanimate objects to life could use a little fine-tuning. If I spent more time on the field and less in my laboratory, perhaps it would be a tad more reliable.

"I need to see if the curse is gone from Hisoka's body, but I'm not sure how to go about asking him." Tsuzuki muttered, casting a glance back up the hallway towards the Summons Section. "You know how sensitive he is about these things."

"Just leave it to me, Tsuzuki!" I chirped, patting my chest in that trustworthy and approachable way I do. "All it takes is a little bit of tact! Tact, as you may or may not know, is my middle name!"

"Yutaka Tact Watari… well I can't deny it doesn't have a certain ring to it."

"Ah! Perfect timing!" I squealed as the door to the Summons Section slammed. Hisoka approached us, solemnly as per usual, his hands mirroring Tsuzuki's as they receded deep into the pockets of his too tight jeans. Hisoka was a cute kid, but having died at sixteen, he had that strained, pinched look of one who had grown too quickly for their body. He looked as though White Tiger and Touda got into a tug of war over him, stretching the kids' body clumsily, before both discarding him as though he weren't worth their time. His straight mousy brown hair hung in perfect symmetry about his face, highlighting his youthful features. Despite his quiet demeanor however, I'd learnt through personal experience that Hisoka is a suitable force to be reckoned with. Or at least, treated with an appropriate amount of respect. I felt a sort of big brother affinity to him.

"There he is!" Tsuzuki, the Observant One pointed out, a minute after I had already announced his presence. He leaned close to me as though sharing a conspiracy. "Now be subtle. If he knew what happened last night-"

"No need to lecture me Tsuzuki, I will be as discreet as discreet can be!" I boasted, brushing out my lab coat lapels. That being said, I discreetly skipped across the room towards the young guardian, who looked up immediately at my discreet presence. "Hey kid! Take your clothes off!"

Hisoka backed up a step. "Excuse me?"

"I said SUBTLE!!" Tsuzuki all but bellowed. I waved a hand at him.

"I'm doing some research into the field of Sorceries Signs, Symbols and identification marks." I told the green-eyed guardian, who was starting to back away from me with discouraging speed. I was forced to match him, edge for edge. "I would _never _think to ask you, but you're the only person I know to be inflected with a curse as such. All I need is to take some pictures, peruse the markings, and track the structure, shape, length, width and so on. Will that be all right with you?"

Hisoka blinked at me for a moment and thankfully halted in his retreat. His large, Bambi eyes fell to the floor like Tsuzuki after one too many drinks.

"Kid?"

"I… I'm sorry… ordinarily I wouldn't mind but… something weird has happened to my markings. I woke up this morning and… not only could I not see them but I couldn't feel them anywhere." His eyes met mine and then shyly trailed back to match Tsuzuki's suitably stunned expression. "I think the curse is gone. I thought maybe it meant that Muraki was dead but it's not like we have any way of knowing. I was actually going to see if you could still detect it… if you have the time that is."

My fingers lightly cuffed him on the chin and I smiled. "I wouldn't mind at all. Come by the lab whenever you're ready and we'll get everything checked out for you."

"I'm sorry about your research." He apologized, looking positively sincere. I waved a hand.

"Oh well… no big deal. I can always go back to my sex change potion I suppose…"

Both Hisoka and Tsuzuki chuckled appreciatively.

"Oh, Watari-san? Konoe-Shacho asked me to call you back in." Hisoka said, quickly returning to his 'purely-business-somber' attitude. "A request for a case just came. It's 6th district, Kyoto."

Oh be still my foolish heart. Field work wasn't exactly my most favorite past time, but now the very mention of Kyoto sent bells ringing between my ears and almost everything came out smelling like a white mushroom. Hisoka simply stared as he followed me back towards the Conference Room, Tsuzuki, smiling knowingly, as I hummed my new theme song; "_Love is the drug for me_."

As we approached the door to the meeting room, I noticed that a slender dark haired man, (whom I took to be a messenger from another department,) was leaning close to Mr. Konoe, talking hurriedly into his ear. They both looked up as Tsuzuki, Bon and I entered and seemed to prematurely finalize their conversation, the messenger handing over a thick folder, indicating to something inside before then offering a brusque bow and excusing himself. I flashed him a brief smile as he made to leave, noticing how his light brown eyes clashed with his pitch-black hair and that he looked somewhat familiar, though I couldn't quite place him. He returned the smile and then was gone. And that was that. I couldn't imagine anymore could have come of such an encounter but as you will see, that was hardly the end of it at all!

Thanks to our little rendezvous in the hallway, breakfast had all but concluded by the time we made it back into the conference room. Most of the plates had been cleaned away, except for one dish containing a tiny inoffensive pastry of some sort, my half eaten croissant and coffee cup. Tsuzuki leapt upon the pastry like a dying man and immediately shoved it down his esophagus, almost taking off his hand whilst he was at it. Terazuma held up his hands as though to shield himself.

"Sheez… someone should feed that poor beast, before he fades away to a block of flats." He joked sarcastically. Tsuzuki tried to thrust and parry with some minor rebuke, but only managed to spray crumbs everywhere.

The Elder Gushoshin had since joined the party as well as 003, which gave me plenty to think about as I tried to fathom how in the hell he managed to sneak into the room without my knowing. Deciding it wasn't worth it I called him over to perch upon my shoulder and started to feed him some crumbs from my plate. As per usual, Tatsumi and Mr. Konoe chose to ignore my affinity for feeding my pet at the table and continued to stand importantly beside the laptop the blue donned Gushoshin was tapping away at.

"So, I have a case do I?" I asked at last. Tatsumi straightened up and began to fuss through the file the messenger had delivered. It looked to me as though it had been hurriedly prepared. It was obvious the case had only just come in, otherwise Tatsumi, immaculate man that he is, would have taken the time to neaten up the file. At least to shove those unattractive white pages that were exploding out the sides, out of sight.

"That's right." He confirmed. "An unusual request at that. It's from a mortal, someone who knows about the Ministry's existence."

"Hmm… How's that possible?" I questioned, scratching my chin. 003 noticed that I was being inattentive and flapped his wings against my ear until I began feeding him again. "Who's the client?"

"Oriya Mibu." Tatsumi concluded with a dramatic air of significance. "That acquaintance of Muraki's. You should remember him from the Kyoto case."

Did I ever! Suddenly old Watari's luck had taken a turn for the better. The urge to throw myself across the table, kiss Tatsumi and scream commandingly for my plane tickets so I could leave immediately was almost unstoppable. Still, leaping in the air and uttering a hormonal 'YAHOO!' might seem a tad ungainly for a guardian with audacious qualities such as myself. Instead, I mentally tucked away my joy for a later date and merely nodded with as much dignity as I muster. It was difficult when I had just come to the conclusion that I was suddenly and undyingly in love with my client.

"Apparently, he's Muraki's _best friend._" I established, casting a momentary glance over my shoulder. Tsuzuki saw me grinning and blew a raspberry at me. I didn't care. I was in too good a mood now to let _anything _ruin this for me!

"Right. So, you'll be handing intelligence from here at the ministry, processing and analyzing any information that the deployed Shinigami may come across." Tatsumi informed me as he shuffled the papers a little bit.

It was at this point that I flew across the table and attacked him. Well, all right not really. I just gaped at him in a sort of hopeless, pathetic way.

"You want me to stay here?" I all but sobbed. Mr. Konoe formed his fingers into a temple shape and studied me from across the peaked digits.

"We thought it would be best. You're not fond of field missions after all and really, you're not all that experienced working on cases without the additional aid of other guardians." He told my tear-streaked expression. "If we deployed you, we would need to send a Gushoshin to back you up and due to your… well, non-combative powers, we need to consider what would be best for the case. You do your best work in intelligence, Watari. You've solved some near to impossible mysteries here at the bureau and that's why we've chosen to send some other guardians in your place."

"Plus, the client requested specifically that you were not to be assigned to his case." Tatsumi added considerately.

"Wow. Sounds like he really fancies you." Tsuzuki jabbed sarcastically from somewhere behind me. I spun in my chair and glared at him.

"You shut up, Chastity Boy! Shacho! Tatsumi! Did he really ask that you not send me?"

"Well on his request form, he stated:" Tatsumi paused to consult the contract. "_Please do not send the blond one._"

I blinked sadly, thoughts of love and devotion spiraling down the plughole. "He really said that?"

"Obviously doesn't know about your reputation, Wat's." Terazuma said, thumping me on the back supportively. "Ah well. His loss! If you were the one working on this case, I think we could be damned sure that the Kokakuro would go up in business! He doesn't know what he's missed out on."

I raised my head, encouraged by his sarcastic sense of humor. "He must just be playing hard to get! That's the _only _explanation!" Satisfied at my conclusion, I proceeded to negotiate with Mr. Konoe and Tatsumi in that reverential and civil way I am renowned for.

Much staring ensued as I belly crawled across the room, hands folded in prayer. "Please, please, _please _don't make me do intelligence work! I really, really, _really _wanna take this case. My powers are much stronger now! I can make my drawings hold their shape for four minutes maximum. I know I can do it, if you would just give me a chance to prove myself every once in a while! Don't stick me here in the office please Shacho. I want to be doing hands on stuff!"

"Oh I just bet you do." Tsuzuki intoned from across the room. I did my best to ignore him, concentrating on getting my 'You-can't-refuse-me-because-I'm-too-sad-and-pathetic' face as flawless as possible. Unfortunately, not being Tsuzuki, it doesn't always work on Tatsumi.

"We must respect the clients' wishes." The secretary stated, sliding his glasses up closer to his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his legs and sobbed into his trousers.

"But I WANT to take this case!" I insisted, using Tsuzuki's tactic of speaking like a big dumb foreigner to get my way. Tatsumi looked embarrassed as he tried to dislodge me from his limb. I held on tight. "You have no IDEA what it's like being stuck here in the office all day! I never get ANY sun, I look like a white lily, my amazing skills are going to waste, I never GET to MEET anyone-"

A cough came from Terazuma's direction that sounded distinctly like; '_Bullshit.'_

"PLEASE TATSUMI!! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE lemme take this case!" I began to cry to provide the crowning touch and 003, concerned by his masters' mournful behavior, began pecking Tatsumi on the head. The secretary shot Mr. Konoe a fleeting, pleading look.

The chief raised his hands. "Fine, have it your way Watari."

I stopped crying immediately and jumped up, flinging my arms about my head in jubilance.

"YES!" I ran over to the boss and started wringing his hands gratefully. "Boss, you ain't gonna regret it. I guarantee it!"

Mr. Konoe seemed unusually morose about his decision, but I put it down to him doubting my abilities. I would simply have to ease his mind by proving he had made the right decision.

"Gushoshin elder will be accompanying you to the Kokakuro tomorrow morning. You are expected to be on sight at six-thirty sharp, so do yourself a favor and not dally tonight." Tatsumi enlightened me. I saluted and danced over to Gushoshin, striking a complimentary pose.

"We'll be like birds of a feather!" I sang. Everyone groaned and 003 clapped his appreciation of my superb wit. Tatsumi handed me over the much-disheveled folder and frankly, looked quite pleased to be rid of it.

"All the information you need is in that folder." He exclaimed as I sat down to quickly peruse it. "Client contract, case details, eye witness reports. The whole shebang. Because the Ministry is unknown to the public, we have no choice but to find alternative means of explaining our agents' presence at the scene of a crime. Officially, you are to be filling in as a part time receptionist."

Meaning I would have to be doing a lot of bending down in front of Oriya. I smiled and made a note to self to buy some suitably tight pants.

"The case itself concerns the murder of three geisha's in Mibu-san's service." Tatsumi explained, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "The inclusion of a demonic symbol in the room in which they were found, suggests that this crime may in fact be supernatural in nature. The three women were found by one of the servants. The murders are described as being abnormally vicious."

"How so?" Terazuma enquired, his brow arched high into the lines of his forehead.

Tatsumi reached up to adjust his glasses, though they hadn't shifted an inch from the bridge of his nose. "Generally, Japan is not renowned for a significantly high crime rate. And yet, in the past twenty-four hours we have experienced two cases of supernatural murder of the most monstrous nature. Last night, agents Tsuzuki and Watari were sent to investigate a disturbance at the Tokyo Metropolitan Tachiagari Library. A total of thirty-eight lives were lost and from that total only one soul was recovered. The rest were irretrievable; reportedly devoured by the demon responsible for the outright decimation that occurred within the library."

I swallowed deeply as our fellow Shinigami absorbed this new information, looking to Tsuzuki and I in a mixture of awe and concern. Tatsumi cleared his throat before continuing.

"The un-sub enforced an extremely elevated level of _mana _radiation in order to reanimate the deceased corpses and draw low level formless demons into the then vacant bodies. All physical nutrients were drawn from the deceased, as well as their souls. The main office relayed to the department this very morning that the demon in question is undoubtedly of the soul eater variety and the attack on the library was a means of increasing its' powers in one succinct act. In addition, the demon was able to use an unidentified spell to delude the innocent masses into witnessing horrific scenes that triggered violent survival impulses. The humans turned upon one another and many were needlessly slaughtered. The Ministry is currently working with the Japanese government to devise a means of explaining the attack in a logical manner." His deep blue eyes slanted seriously behind his glasses, as he looked to us one at a time. "I feel it is quite needless to inform you that this was a devastating move by the Rogue Underdwellers that far besmirches the reputation and reliability of the Ministry as a whole. Watari-san, Tsuzuki-san," He inclined his head in our direction. "Both myself, the Chief and the Head Office applaud your valiant efforts last night to contain the situation. I have no doubt you did your utmost to detain the suspect. With that being said, the clean up will be segregated to the Concealment and Censor division. High-ranking agents from the Containment Sector have been rounded up to continue the investigation and permanent detainment of the rogue. The samples you gathered at the scene last night have already been forwarded to their department, Watari-san." Tatsumi informed, dipping his chin in my direction. I waved my hand lazily, none too fussed about having that particular workload taken off of my hands.

Hisoka's brows furrowed as he lifted his gaze from the table and turned it on Tatsumi. "Forgive me if I'm being plainspoken, Tatsumi-san but how exactly do the murders of these geisha relate to the Tachiagari incident? You suggested that they were both vicious and possibly supernatural in origin but you have not yet elaborated on the connection between them."

Tatsumi took a moment to needlessly adjust his glasses again. "I do not presume to suggest that there is any certifiable connection between the occurrence at the Tachiagari last night and the murders of which took place in Kokakuro. I mean only to convey the coincidence of two such brutal slayings of this nature occurring on the very same night. The slaughter of these three women were of an entirely separate character to that of the Tachiagari victims." He gestured for me to return the folder and with a delicate finger he lifted the cover. I watched his eyes move from top to bottom as he read aloud the victim description report, deployed by the Ministry coroner possibly no sooner than an hour prior to our meeting.

"The first victim; female obviously. Age approximately estimated at mid-twenties. She suffered a frenzied assault; thirty-nine reported stab wounds had been inflicted from her throat to her lower abdomen. The slice to the abdomen was particularly vicious and part of the womb had been removed."

Wakaba sat down heavily in the seat beside me and dropped her forehead down into her hands. Tatsumi glanced over the top of the folder at her, for the most part expressionless.

"Wakaba-san, if this is altogether too taxing for you, you are free to leave the room at any point."

Wakaba forced her face up out of her palms and offered him a shaky smile. "No, no, Tatsumi-san, I shall be fine. Call it a woman's empathy if you will." She appeared unusually contrite. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to interrupt you. Please, continue."

Tatsumi gave her one last lingering look and seemed to conclude that her constitution was settled. His eyes returned to the page in front of him. "The second victim. Early twenties, believed to be approximately five feet two inches in height. Death was caused almost instantaneously by a cut to the throat. Scrapes to the spine indicated the implement used to inflict the attack cut deep through skin and subcutaneous flesh, down to the bone itself. Such as the first victim, her abdomen had been compromised. A thin blade was believed to have been inserted into the vagina and then tugged violently upward to split the womb from the inside out and open the abdominal cavity entirely."

I set down my coffee cup and used my free hand to clasp Wakaba's fingers, for she now appeared incredibly shaken by the recount of the murders. I pondered to myself how my prospective darling was fairing at this juncture, witness first hand to the gruesome deaths of these women in his care. I barely knew him of course and was yet struck by the most profound and overwhelming instinct to seek him out and console what surely at this stage was a broken and deeply wounded man.

Tatsumi cleared his throat once more and took in the room to see I suppose how we were fairing. His eyes lingered for a moment on Tsuzuki, whose downcast eyes surveyed the line of the table blankly and then Wakaba, who had removed a handkerchief as surreptitiously as possible to dab the tears that had started to slide down the sides of her cheeks.

"How are you all dealing?" He questioned at point. We, all of us, made some indication that we were managing so far, though even Chief Konoe himself appeared unusually morose and solemn. Any case that involved the violent deaths and mutilations of women were never exactly high up on our 'Whoopee' meters. Terazuma leant with his back against the doorways wooden border, arms crossed and rocking back and forth every once in a while. He had been a detective in life and yet that experience goes little towards preparing one for this field of work.

"The third and final victim," Tatsumi continued, closing the folder to questioning glances. "We have yet to receive the full details of her condition." He motioned to the Gushoushin who immediately set up a linkage between the laptop and a projector system, using a remote system to lower a screening curtain into place over the far wall. "Jun Takamiya is due to contact us shortly, to relay her findings." Jun, a Chinese-Japanese woman in her early thirties, was one of the three Ministry coroners. The other two I imagined, were still examining the bodies of the Tachiagari victims. "Gushoushin, be sure to patch her through right away."

We idled for a while as the Gushoushin went about making contact. Soon enough, Jun's image was appearing on the viewing screen, her chin length black hair pinned back neatly by a series of clips. I could see what appeared to be a garden in the background, so he had obviously adjourned outside in order to make the connecting call. She was an alternative kind of woman, with dark make up, long blood red nails and a pallid complexion that put one in mind of the corpses she seemed to so eagerly hover over. I imagine that poor Mibu-san was none too comforted by her presence.

"Hello my freaky little darlings," She said as way of greeting. "Just wrapped things up here and I'll be driving back to the Ministry shortly. I've emailed you photos of the crime scene as well as the victims report. Oh yes and I've currently placed an 'Embalmment' charm within the room in which the bodies were found. This will keep their condition moribund until your employed agents arrive and conduct their own investigation. No need to thank me."

"What does 'moribund' mean?" Tsuzuki whispered, leaning over the table towards me.

"Dormant," I replied turning back to Jun's innocently smiling visage. She certainly enjoyed her work far too much for my refined tastes. "Jun, might you convey the condition of the third victim for us, if you would be so kind?"

Jun smirked in the midst of removing all her hair slides, allowing the previously restrained tresses to swing down about her face again. "You Shinigami, straight to the point as usual. I'll give you the lowdown but I warn you; it ain't for the lighthearted. I've had to keep the poor chap in charge here from entering the room. Do his heart no good, I would imagine."

Again, I found my heart panging painfully for what that dear fellow must have been suffering. Wakaba's fingers loosened in my own considerably as she leant around Tatsumi to face the screen.

"Jun-san," She enquired timidly. "Are you meaning to suggest that the third victim is in a worse state than the previous two?"

Jun appeared morbidly delighted. "My sweet girl, not a one of them is in any fit state to be gazed upon by the inexperienced eye. But I can inform you that she is indeed in a most sorry state of affairs, even compared to her two friends." She tutted softly to herself as she picked up a piece of paper with handwritten notes. "The third victim. Mid-twenties. Bruising about the throat indicates that she was first strangled before her throat was cut. The incision was deeper this time; by and by I believe that the assailant actually attempted to remove the dear girls head, such was the damage to the spine itself. Her abdomen was entirely laid open and her intestines had been lifted from the abdominal cavity and arranged about her shoulders. The womb itself had been removed by the killer and has not been recovered at this stage. This suggests that our mad hacker has perhaps scarpered off with it. God only knows what he means to do with it."

"Any other noticeable injuries?" The Chief enquired, looking entirely as though he wanted very much to leave that question be. Jun perused her notes, lips pursed together tightly.

"Something strange…" She finally intoned. "I can hardly tell myself whether this particular affliction occurred as a result of the frenzy or if it were intentional."

"And that is?" Tatsumi politely enquired.

Jun indicated behind her right ear. "Behind the shell of the right ear, each of the three victims have a thick but insubstantial cut. As though a blade were pressed against it for some duration of time." I felt an involuntary shiver down my spin at these words. Tsuzuki looked up from the table for the first time during Jun's summation.

"Any evidence of sexual assault?"

Jun shook her head immediately. "No."

I raised my brow. "You sound reasonably sure."

"That's because I _am _reasonably sure. Whatever the cause for these murders, I'm certain that sexual assault played no part in it. It was violent and calculated. As though the killer meant to leave and enter the room quickly. And yet, whoever it was, was able to remove organs that are very difficult to locate, so we may be looking for someone with some medical background or experience in the field at least. And if it's not too presumptuous of me to offer my opinion, I believe you may need to look into the history of the fourth victim."

"There was a fourth victim?" I asked.

Jun's eyes found mine. "Yes. She received the most minor of injuries. A shallow cut to the throat, insubstantial cuts and bruises. She was intentionally left alive, whilst the three others were slaughtered mercilessly, perhaps by more than one assailant, owing to the speed in which they must have orchestrated the attack. There's a possibility this attack was meant to frighten the surviving girl. Some aspect from her past might very well reveal more." She shrugged her narrow shoulders. "This is only the uninformed postulation of a crypt keeper however. I'll leave the guess work up to you fellows."

Konoe inclined his head. "Thankyou, Takamiya-san for a job well done. Have a safe journey home."

The Gushoushin ended the live feed and we all turned inward to face one another again. Not a one of us appeared the least bit assured by any of what we had just heard. Even _I _had my doubts about taking on the case, Mibu-san or no Mibu-san. The Tachiagari had been enough to give me nightmare material for the next ten years of my afterlife, let alone what these Ripper-esque murders were likely to do to my mental state.

Tatsumi clucked his tongue as he re-opened the manila folder to a very audible groan from the rest of us. Could there _possibly_ be more to this ballistic debacle? "Cuts to the throat have now been determined as the initial COD. Further mutilation upon the bodies was reportedly conducted following expiration of the victims." He indicated for the Gushoushin to raise the viewing screen and then uncapped a marker pen with which to write on the now revealed white board. "The bodies of the three victims were aligned within a pentagram like symbol that had been scrawled upon the floor within the center of the room." He drew a crude representation of the symbol, which appeared to be composed of four parts and used arrows to indicate where each of the bodies had been situated. "Apparently, their blood was mixed with chalk powder in order to create the substance with which the symbol was drawn."

"A common practice, particularly in olden times." I muttered, more to myself as I drew the folder back towards me and glanced over the case study. "Some societies used to mix blood with the mortar when building castles, believing it strengthened the foundations and dispelled evil spirits, preventing them from taking root on the land. Then of course, blood is also believed to be used as an offering to draw the attentions of a particular Underdweller and the foundation upon which a contract is formed."

Mr. Konoe nodded. "We have considered all those options, of course. The girls apparently bled out in minutes. Our reports tell us that judging by the time rigor mortis set in, it appears that the women were dead at around four A.M this morning. Their souls haven't yet turned up on the Kaiseki and we suspect that they have remained attached to Kokakuro itself. The two primary purposes of this investigation is firstly; to retrieve the souls and guide them to Hades for sorting and secondly; if possible, to identify the killer; if there is some supernatural connection. If not, we will contact the authorities up above and hand investigation over to them. There's not much more we can tell you."

Gushoshin gestured from over by the laptop. "Watari-san. Takamiya-san has sent through some photographs of the crime scene. Would you care to take a look now?"

Mr. Konoe started to rise from his chair, his hand extended as though to stop me. "I don't think that's really necessary, Gusho-"

"Yeah, let me see." I said, picking up my coffee cup and taking a deep sip. The liquid was luke warm but the caffeine helped me focus, regardless of its temperature. I kicked my chair out and went over to Gushoshin, leaning down a little in order to see the screen clearly. Tsuzuki, Hisoka, Wakaba and Terazuma crowded round behind me for a sticky beak.

Gushoshin brought up the minimized screen and clicked on the arrow at the bottom of the page. It was an overview shot, showing the entire room as a whole. The symbol, though somewhat obscured by the bodies and blood of the three girls, was vaguely familiar, though I had little idea just how recently it was that I had seen this very sigil. It was composed of four sections by a black cross and intricate daemonic lettering trimmed the border. A voice tutted from inside my spectacles as I glanced over the photographs.

"_Sad that, ain't it? Looks ta me like-"_

"Hey shut up Ichibana, I'm trying to concentrate." I told the djinni. I gestured to Gushoshin. "Continue."

This time, the photo showed a close up on the face of one of the victims. Her expression was frozen into a premature version of terror, as though she had seen the blade that had been about to end her life but had no time to scream before she was dead. She was beautiful, but then again, most geisha's are. One sees so many stunning women working at establishments such as Kokakuro that they almost don't seem to register anymore. The next picture was of the second victim. Whilst the first victims' hair had been a dark dyed red, this woman's was jet black and she was clearly younger than her predecessor. She looked as though she had barely left her teens.

"That's awful." Hisoka hissed and Terazuma gave him a strictly 'he-man' comfort pat on the shoulder. I took another sip of my coffee as Gushoshin brought up the face of the third victim. It was a blonde girl and for a moment, I choked on my coffee thinking that it had been… well, _her. _She looked so similar… the same colored hair, the same eyes…

I could feel Konoe watching me, carefully gauging my reaction but I gave him none. Only when Gushoushin displayed the fourth and final picture; another girl in Oriya's employ, whom had survived the attack, did it finally become apparent just why he had been so apprehensive about my accepting the case.

Taken from the hospital, her eyes shut, apparently comatose. I recognized the distinctive ligature marks about the neck, as though rope had been bound about her throat in order to hold the back of her neck tightly against something. Lateral examination revealed a thick cut behind one ear, as though the blade of a knife, or other sharp weapon had been held there to encourage her to lay still…

But it made no sense… this _couldn't _have happened. It wasn't possible!

Why she was there at Kokakuro in the first place was a mystery to me but what disturbed me even more was those distinctive wounds, indicative of someone who was long since dead… long since removed from this world.

I'd made sure of that myself… so that _this _terrible thing couldn't happen.

_How_…? How could it?!

It made no sense! Not even in this world, in this world of the dead!

That's when I lost it.

I choked on my coffee and Tatsumi was immediately at my side, slapping my back in an attempt to dispel the liquid that had taken a wrong turn down my windpipe. Mr. Konoe moved around to our side of the table and slapped the screen of the laptop down, in an attempt to hide what was already too late to conceal.

I had seen it.

I understood then, why he had been so apprehensive about letting me take this case.

I couldn't stand it. As I coughed and spluttered, I dropped my cup and it shattered on the floor, sending porcelain scattering in all directions. Tsuzuki grabbed my arm but I forcefully shoved both he and Tatsumi off of me, staggering for the door. I needed air. I needed to get away from her face…

I made it out into the Summons Section and staggered toward one of the windows. However, the familiar feeling of my stomach cramping made me change my mind at the last minute and I veered off towards the toilets instead. I was making strange noises, violent, acidic tasting hiccups that seemed to roll directly out of my throat. I had never felt this ill before in my life. Not even those drunken incidents that had me lying on the toilet floor screaming; "I wanna die! Just let me die!" Moaning, I kicked the door in and tried to make it to one of the toilets. My stomach cramped again and I realized I was just not going to get there in time.

"Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuck-" I chanted the abusive mantra as I literally hurled myself at one of the sinks, hitting the edge so harshly a light powder flew up. Pain flickered down my arm, blood settling into the valley of my lab coat elbow and then my stomach kicked out its' contents in one, painful thrust. I gripped the basin with one hand, clutching my stomach with the other as I vomited violently, my eyes prickling with tears.

Someone came in behind me and I felt a hand touch me lightly on the center of my back. I sniffled, my eyes blurred with moisture as I tried to stand.

"Fuck…" I whimpered and threw up again. There went my breakfast and coffee all at once. My body heaved three more times, each movement producing an almost drainage effect in which the vomitus fluid merely leaked from my throat. I sobbed desperately, my fingernails scratching the porcelain as I attempted to get up again. Mr. Konoe, standing behind me, cupped his hands beneath my armpits and tried to help me onto my feet. At the last second, I balked, my cheeks extending dangerously. I tried to hold it all in but my body betrayed me, and I collapsed back on the soiled sink as I continued to regurgitate, though there was nothing left in my body to throw up. My stomach pressed in on itself repeatedly, as though trying to purge any tiny bit of moisture left in my body. I gagged and heaved, but the little that came out was transparent with the density of saliva. Still it was a full minute before I was able to coax my body to relax.

"God… please, no more Oh God… no more…" I begged and cried, burying my face against my arm. Even in the darkness of my sleeve, I could still see her face.

I whimpered, my face crumpling like a sodden tissue and I felt Mr. Konoe press his clean handkerchief against my chin, mopping up the residue. His coarse voice felt strangely reassuring; like a father soothing his child after a nightmare.

"Shhh…" He hushed, stroking the crown of my head as he wiped the white hanky across my lips. I made a soft noise of protest but he simply waved it away. I hiccupped, turning back toward the sink, gazing at what little I could see of my reflection in the wall mirror. I looked as shitty as I felt.

"It was her, wasn't it? It's been too long… I barely recognize her… but… he must have… somehow he still managed to…" I whispered, praying that someway, somehow I was wrong. Mr. Konoe didn't lie through. He sighed and I saw him nod in the mirror. I moaned in desolation, sinking my forehead into my sleeve again. There was a tingling sensation on my arm as my cut healed, the blood continuing to drip from the white material of my coat.

"Oh… no… God no… _It's not… possible!_ He's _dead_, isn't he, Konoe-san?! You swore up and down to me that he was _gone!_"

"Watari, it's the same as I told you then. His name is on the Kiseki. He's been gone a long time."

I waved my hand about erratically, not really caring about where I was directing my attentions.

"But the signature pattern… it's the same! The _very _same! And he said… he said he was going to go after her! Once I was gone… that's what he said!" I whipped my glasses off and swiped my hand furiously across my eyes. "This is punishment! He's punishing me for trying to stop him!"

"Watari, now come on. You're being hysterical." Konoe slapped my back roughly, in order to help me steady my rattled constitution. "I checked myself; unbeknownst to anyone else." He quickly assured, noting my concerned expression dart upwards in the mirror. "The name hasn't been removed… he rests. In the eternal quagmire; if there's any justice. Besides, the presence of the sigil isolates this as a possible supernatural case. What we're looking at here is most likely a demonic copycat, who, unfortunately, probably aimed to finish his work."

"Oh great." I said, rubbing the heel of my hand into my tired eyes to temporarily soothe them. "As if one of him wasn't bad enough."

Konoe chuckled humorlessly, his large rough hand continuing to make circles on my back. "Now you can understand why I didn't want you to take this case. I was just trying to protect you."

"Where is she now?" I asked, thinking I would perhaps go see her. Konoe's eyes met mine in the mirror.

"She's been transferred to a treatment facility in Hokkaido, for the time being, until her condition is stabilized. I should warn you… I know what you're thinking but it's against strict Ministry policy to interfere with surviving relatives. And I strongly discourage it under any circumstances. Do you feel it would be fair for her, after everything she has been through, to have _you _step back into her life? The shock may be too much for her to handle."

I knew he was right and that it was selfish in any event to even consider just sneaking in for a look at her face. It would only spur on the temptation to do so again and again… who knew where it might end? A guardian that clung to the remnants of their former life was a pitiful thing indeed. They became so entrenched with reminiscing on the past and returning to the side of their loved ones that they couldn't move forward and do the duties they had been assigned when granted that second life. And when a Guardian of Death couldn't do their job, people got hurt… people died. I'd heard of Shinigami who had done such a thing; tried to return to the side of his ailing mother and the shock had been so great, it had caused her heart to fail.

No… it would have been selfish to impose on her life, after so long, even if I did wish to see her. To hold her, ease the aching marks upon her neck and swear that I would never let anyone harm her again…

Oh death was an unfair thing, sometimes… and supernatural though we are, our emotions are subject to a very human process at the best of times. We want to be selfish… and oh, we want to love more fiercely than even the living. But just because we want to, doesn't always mean that we should… Sometimes, you have to make the difficult choice for yourself, if you know that it is the right choice for those with whom we are most concerned with preserving the sanctity of.

The living; from which we were long departed.

So I nodded and smiled, in the hope that Konoe understood that it masked a pain too great for words.

He smiled gratefully and then hefted a weary sigh. "Yutaka… I know Kyoto is your district but I really think you should reconsider taking this case. It's a little too close, if you know what I mean? I can put other agents on it… perhaps you should take some time off, think things through. Get your head together."

"No." I insisted firmly, shaking my head. Mustering as much strength as I was able, I pulled myself to my feet and twisted the tap in the sink on; washing away the mess I had left. Mr. Konoe pulled me away by the wrist.

"Don't worry about that. I'll get someone else to clean it up."

"It's fine." I said, returning to the sink. I looked at him in the mirror, my eyes red rimmed and my throat and chest burning. Regardless, I appeared determined and resolute. That's how I felt. "With all due respect sir, don't be ridiculous. Would you let someone else take this case, if you were in my shoes?"

I could see he wanted to protest but he saw my point. He rubbed his forehead, thick eyebrows creasing down over his small eyes.

"No." He said at last. I nodded.

"Then get those other agents to check up on her every once in a while… just to make sure this creep doesn't have another go. As for the girls who were murdered… I'm sorry, I know you think it's unfounded but I still can't help but feel that this is my responsibility somehow. I gotta at least make a good go of it." I met his eyes sternly in the mirror. "Sir, I promise I will not let my feelings get in the way of this case. I'll remain impartial, no matter what."

"Watari, with all due respect, _you_ are the one being ridiculous now," said the older man, lowering his hand to his side. Seeing my head hanging low encouraged him to cross the room and squeeze my inside elbow. "All right. I'll approve you as lead investigator in this case. We've titled it the Kyoto Cleaver. You know all the usual procedures and the specifics of your employment are all issued to you in the file. Mibu-san will be hosting your stay and as the client, we have an obligation to share any information we uncover about this case with him. Keep that in mind."

I nodded. "Understood, sir."

There was a silence as Konoe-Shacho sort of gingerly held me, as he would a glass sculpture. After a moment he released his grip on my arm and tapped me gently on the ribs.

"Good. Now, I want you to go home and take the rest of the day off. Get yourself prepared for the trip tomorrow. I'll send Gushoshin over to your apartment so that the two of you can leave together, bright and early. I'll have agents attend to the young ladies condition in coordinating shifts. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Thank you, sir." I murmured and watched as he slowly left the bathroom, casting one more worried glance over his shoulder as he went. I smiled and waved at him, an assurance that I was feeling better and he didn't have to worry. As soon as he had left, my fellow guardians all traipsed into the bathroom to make sure that I was all right. Though I was still despondent over what I had seen on the computer screen, it didn't take me long to start cheering up, especially when Terazuma and Tsuzuki started fighting again and Wakaba began tickling 003's belly, causing him to roll about the table with birdie laughter.

Once I had returned home I spent a good 10 minutes brushing my teeth and then I crawled into bed to watch TV. 003 sat watching me from his perch in the corner of the room, his head cocked grumpily to one side as if asking what the hell he was doing home when we were both supposed to be at work. I gave him a piece of sponge cake to tide him over and was then able to watch the television in relative piece.

Though I wasn't really watching it at all. There were too many other things on my mind.

There was a tall dark haired man, with dreamy dark brown eyes and questionable alliances with psychopaths.

And there was a girl. A girl with eyes the color of amber, beset within a sleeping face. A face I had not seen for twenty-four years.

The living enigma. The quiescent memory.

I wished I could have seen myself through another's eyes; it might have given me a better idea of what step to take next. To my great misfortune, this manner of power was hardly my privilege so I would just have to make do with what I had.

The time soon came to let Ichibana out of my glasses and I almost expected it to nick off as soon as it was free to do so. I wouldn't have blamed it; after all, I'm sure it got awfully cramped inside a pair of glasses, even if it did just spend the entire time sleeping. But I think it surprised itself most of all when it instead shuffled into bed alongside me and put its' arm about my shoulders, able to comfort me without saying a single word on the subject.

We'd been together a long time, you see. It knew who she was and how hard it was for me to stay put and not go running up to Hokkaido with a fruit basket and a hundred declarations of love to constitute for twenty-four years of outright absence.

Ichibana… how can I describe it? Well, to say that it is… well, an 'it' requires some explaining for a start. Djinni, you understand, are neither male nor female. Their chosen physical forms are usually such that their features are androgynous and thus, indiscernible from male to female. To be honest, I've never been able to settle on an appropriate gender reference for Ichibana. To say that it is a 'he' is inaccurate, since it possesses more distinctively feminine attributes. But to think of it as a woman, even taking everything else that has happened into consideration… well, I don't know… and it's really rather beside the point, don't you agree?

As for its' appearance… well! You guys know, that to say that it was exquisite would be an understatement. And yet there seems to be no other word that adequately describes it. Ichibana possessed a rare, poignant, _exotic _beauty that is as natural and warm as it is startling. It is sincerely difficult to tear your eyes away from it.

It is of medium height and curvaceous, with wide hips and legs both long and perfectly sculptured, its' thighs round and firm. It isn't what you would call skinny and it has quite a round backside, that makes its' figure seem feminine, even with its' distinctive lack of breasts. It has spiky plum colored hair, that seems to roll down on either side of its' face. It claimed that this was its' natural color but I'd been witness to the darkening of the roots of more than one occasion, which lead me to believe that its' true shade was actually a rich, deep black. Whatever the case, its' hair clashes beautifully against its' milk white blemish less skin; more pale and smooth than even Muraki's. Its' lips are soft and the most inoffensive shade of pink, poised in that ever present heart shape. It is a mouth that seems entirely invested to the art of kissing and even though it's not my type, I'd often found myself deeply fascinated by the creatures' mouth and what it would feel like to kiss the arch of those lovely lips.

Its' eyes are bright red, almost pink and arched upward at the corners, further enhanced by its' usual gothic eyeliner application. This gives it a somewhat catlike appearance. The ends of its' ears are pointed and it has a long rectangular clasp in the left, though each lobe is adorned with four dangling connected squares, each displaying a suit of cards symbol. It has a total of sixteen ear piercings all up. Its' hair is nape length and tied back by a thin waif of cord, allowing the longer, somewhat spiky but in no means messy clumps of bangs and loose tresses to frame its' delicately porcelain features. If I had to compare its' facial features to anyone, I'd say that they allude to that of the Western actress Catherine Zeta-Jones. It usually dresses in a predominately gothic 'Hot-topic' fashion; ripped clothing, belts, zippers, heels, fingerless gloves… needless to say, our taste in clothing was so similar, that we often went shopping together and had been known on occasion to delve into one another's wardrobe. (Yes, Ichibana and I shared a wardrobe. The djinni was not so much a servant as it was a roommate.)

Beautiful though it undoubtedly is, you could never accuse Ichibana of being cold or conceited. (Though it often adopted the manner of being tougher than it actually was. Truth be told, it's a soft, sentimental old bugger). Ichibana cheerful, sassy and intelligent and despite appearing to be in its' mid-twenties, is actually 425 years old.

For the ease of story telling, I shall henceforth refer to Ichibana by a male gender identity, so as to avoid confusion in speech. Though Ichibana does in fact use a mixture of feminine and male reference when talking, a male ascription for the purpose of our discussion would be easiest, I do feel. This may change as we go along, owing to the circumstances in my dear servants life, as you are all well and truly aware of.

Moving along, my gender indiscernible servant and I sat for a while and talked things over. Morning wore on into midday and Ichibana further surprised me by opening up a bottle of wine and setting preparations for lunch. Well, didn't I feel just bully propping my feet up by the heater and drinking my own body weight in alcohol! After the last twenty-four hours, I felt I deserved a little special treatment and here I was receiving it from the djinni I had forced into contract with me! None too shabby at all.

By and by, lunchtime for the other Shinigami rolled about and my fellow agents started wending their way out of the ministry to parts preferred. Around half past one, Ichibana and I were disrupted in the midst of some irrelevant conversation by a timid knock on the door. I called out to whomever it was to enter and was not the least bit surprised to see Tsuzuki's disheveled head appear.

"Just thought I'd pop in to check on you." Tsuzuki explained, shutting the door behind him and shrugging off his coat. He sniffed the air, something of a bad habit with him, and remarked, "Is Ichibana cooking?"

I nodded, tilting my beer towards him. "Yup. A _bubbaganoosh _special." Having lived predominately in Germany during his youth, Ichibana often impressed Tsuzuki and I with his German cuisine, which, (regardless of what it was actually called,) we referred to as _'bubbaganoosh.'_

The djinni in question poked his head out of the kitchen and waved a dirty Spatchela at Tsuzuki. "Hey Doll-Face, thought I heard yer voice. Ye joinin' us fer lunch?"

Tsuzuki looked slightly uncomfortable and scuffed his feet, flashing me a concerned look. "You sure I'm not intruding…?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, admittedly confused. "Why would you be intruding? Come on in and sit down, you dope. It's not like Ichibana and I are on a date or anything."

"Blondie! The things ya say…" Ichibana sauntered out of the kitchen, frilly apron fluttering about him, spatula in hand and slid his knee into my lap, pushing the line of his chest against mine, lips to my hairline. "Here I am, slavin' away in tha kitchen, cookin' yer midday intake and I ain't even gonna be gettin' any compensation fer it?" His fingers wove through my hair, his groin dipping down to press against my own with a palpable undulation. I made a big point of ignoring him, slipping my arm past his svelte body to bring my beer back to my lips again. "I thought I meant more ta you than that…"

Tsuzuki continued to dither in the entrance for a moment but having known Ichibana for so long, eventually clued onto the fact that he was just teasing and hung up his coat, closing the door behind him. "Smells good, Ichi-kun. What's on the menu?"

"_Bubbaganoosh. _Isn't that what ye two uncultured turds refer to it as?" Ichibana snipped, climbing up out of my lap and making his way back to the kitchen.

"C'mon… don't pretend ta be all hurt and vulnerable." I laughed, following him to grab a beer out of the fridge for Tsuzuki. "Just tell us what we should be preparing ourselves for."

The djinni mock-scowled over his shoulder, taking a deep swallow from his glass of red wine before turning around to pose in a rather hoity-toity manner, transfiguring a thin French moustache upon his upper lip in order to complete the look.

"Zis following dish, my dear plebeians," He all but shouted in a contritely exaggerated French accent. "Is an exquisite medley known as _Duesseldorfer __Potato Mushrooms_. Made with white wine, potatoes, spices and of course ze onions." He whisked his finger across his upper lip, vanquishing the moustache and returning to his usual accent. "Of course there is the small problem in that I may not be able keep my hands off of the wine long enough to add it to the mixture but as long as the Cabernet doesn't run out, I believe we should be okay!"

I smiled as I tossed Tsuzuki his beer, which he immediately cracked open and took an exceptionally deep sip from. "Ichibana, you are an absolute _darling._ If I ever say anything rude to you again -"

"Then I'll know yer back ta normal." Ichibana said, smiling warmly to indicate he meant no harm before turning back to the stove. Tsuzuki and I chatted for a while but eventually got off of our well worn backsides to assist, though we just ended up being in the way and were given the veritable bum rush out of the kitchen. We were on to our second beers, just sort of talking nonsense when Ichibana frisked us off of the couch and over to the kitchen isle to eat our lunch.

_Duesseldorfer _Potato mushrooms were… well, pretty much as the name describes them. Ichibana had halved and hollowed out a number of potatoes to make them look like mushrooms, which had then been pan-fried to a lovely rich golden texture. The hallows had been filled by a variation of fried ingredients such as onions, spring onions, bacon, ham and cabbage. This mixture had then been drizzled with white wine and salt, pepper, cream, mustard and a number of spices that I couldn't have possibly named then, let alone now! A sprig of parsley garnished each delicious creation and a number of thin slices of sea bream fanned out along the sides of the plate, complimenting the meal perfectly. The smell that arouse from each dish was exquisite. If he hadn't been drooling before, Tsuzuki certainly was now!

"Wow, Ichi! This looks great!" He took an incredibly deep whiff with his nose and sighed indulgently. "Man… I wish you were _my _djinni. Then I could eat like this _every _day!"

"Ain't those Shikigami takin' care a you, toots?" Ichibana asked, maybe a little smugly as he lounged back against the kitchen cabinets, refilling his wine glass almost to the top. One thing you could say about the three of us; we sure as Hell could drink.

Tsuzuki sighed again, picking up his fork and twirling it nonchalantly. "Well… it's not like they could, even if I wasn't afraid to ask them to! I can only call them up in a crisis situation and when they appear… well, you know, they're not exactly equipped for culinary expeditions if you catch my drift."

Ichibana flashed him a sympathetic look, leaning over to gently swat his cheek. "Kid, I'm happy ta bake ya a meal anytime ya want. Besides, yer always welcome here for 'nosh. Ain't that right, Blondie?"

I nodded distractedly, my mouth bulging with warm delicious food and my mind still whirling with the many things that had happened that day. Her face… not to mention that uncalled for notation from Oriya Mibu! If I were a more sensitive, insecure man, it may just have succeeded in scaring me away for good. As it was, I was now all the more determined to front up there and prove him wrong!

" – gotta give me the recipe." I heard, having just revived from the turbulent depths of my thoughts. Ichibana bit his lip nervously, seemingly uncertain about how best to proceed with Tsuzuki's aforementioned request.

"… yeah… let me sleep on that one, toots." He said gently, flashing me a look that blatantly suggested his opinion on the matter was hardly likely to change no matter how much time he had to think about it. He knew first hand what Tsuzuki's cooking was like and seemed to view his culinary urges in much the way you confront a very angry and poisonous snake; it was better not to encourage it. "It's a wee bit complicated…"

"I don't mind! I really enjoy cooking!" Tsuzuki enthused, having failed to notice Ichibana's reluctant tone. Ichibana flashed me another look, requesting assistance and I chuckled to myself, succeeding only in snorting potato down my nose.

"Well anyway, make sure to eat up you two." Ichibana said, swilling his wine about in its glass before sloshing it back into his gullet in a rather bodacious fashion. "We're goin' out tonight and we ain't gonna be drinkin' on empty stomachs."

"We are?" Tsuzuki said, looking to me for verification. I could only shrug, having only just been informed of Ichibana's plans myself. "On a Wednesday? There won't be many people out…"

"Ah, which means all the more opportunity fer us, eh?" The djinni crowed, taking a big chunk from his own meal and chewing it full bodily to one side of his mouth. "Trust me; this'll be just what the doc ordered! Ye two have got faces longer than a wet weekend and somethin's gotta be done about it!"

"It's _because_ of the doc that my face looks like this." Tsuzuki mumbled, pushing a cube of bacon around his plate with the prongs of his fork.

"Mine just came this way," I nominated, chewing on the last piece of my sea bream.

The djinni groaned, putting his free hand pointedly against the curve of his hips. "Try and show a little enthusiasm, eh? Ye mustn't be this listless when Muraki gets ya in his bed. Which could very well be tonight if everythin' goes ta plan." He ignored Tsuzuki's spluttered protests in favor of gazing fondly out into the middle of nowhere, swishing his wine about his glass to the degree that it almost spilt over, more than once. "The place I'm thinkin' bout takin' us has a 80 percent chance of scorin'. What you both need is ta get out there and get some kissin' done."

"You can actually measure the chance of 'scoring' by percentage?" Tsuzuki questioned innocently. Ichibana responded with an influential and persuasive nod. "Wow… I must be operating on a low percentage… excluding contributions of Muraki and the Count that is."

"Thanks but I'm not interested." I said, taking my plate over to the sink to wash and put away. "I've got too much on my mind."

Ichibana sighed deeply, just to show what a nuisance I was being. "That's the _problem _with you fella's! Ya get so hung up over the one little thing that ain't perfect in yer life! _You_," Here he pointed to Tsuzuki. " – all distressed about this Muraki-git tryin' ta get in yer pants and _you,_" At this he gesticulated to me. "Mooning over some guy ye only saw the once _not _wantin' ta get in yer pants! Now, _I _am going out to the balcony to have a smoke," He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his denim bellbottoms and held them up at face height. "Ye guys talk it over and let me know what ye decided."

"We've got work in the morning. And Watari has to leave early for Kyoto." Tsuzuki whined but even to my ears it simply sounded like he was searching for excuses now. I shook soap bubbles away from my fingers before drying them on the dishcloth hanging from the oven handle.

"Hold up, Ichi I think I'll join ya." I said, crossing the room to stand by his side at the sliding door. I wasn't a regular smoker like Ichibana but I didn't mind having one of an evening, just as a means to relax. Tsuzuki only very rarely had one but could never seem to take to it. "Tsuzuki?"

My fellow Shinigami nonchalantly dunked his plate beneath the washing water, seeming to consider whether or not it was worth it. In our particular circumstances, smoking and drinking didn't damage our bodies, so it wasn't a health concern that caused him to stipulate. It was, I suppose, force of habit. Tsuzuki hadn't smoked in life and professed to not approving of it, even seventy years ago when the dangers of cigarettes weren't flouted.

"Well…" He mused, scrubbing the remains of sauce from his plate with the scouring brush. "Ah, what the Hell. After seeing Muraki, I could use something to help take the edge off."

"_Ja_, just don't chug it back too quickly." Ichibana warned, pushing the sliding door open and stepping out into the warm afternoon air. "Last time that happened ya got a head spin and nearly fell off tha balcony."

Tsuzuki chuckled shamefacedly, scratching the back of his head in a rather stereotyped manner. "I'll uh… I'll try and pace myself this time."

We stepped out onto the balcony and Ichibana handed out the cigarettes, which he then lit for each of us with a little fire magic from the tip of his index finger. I drew the nicotine back greedily, feeling my lungs fill and expand before with a relaxed sigh, I expelled the gray fog back into the afternoon air. I thought of another night like this, three months ago, where another man sat smoking, waiting for so many things to happen… Goodness, I was a pathetic man, wasn't I? One glance and I found myself hooked! Could I truly blame myself though? He was so beautiful looking in his solidarity; his sadness almost iconic… to see him sitting there, simply allowing everything to flow by… well, to explain my feelings on being witness to him would be insufficient if even I were to speak a thousand words. All I can say really is that my heart ached. I yearned for him.

_I want to understand you, treasure you, free you, save you_, all those beautiful things. And in the same beat I wanted to devour you, sup you and meld into your flesh and merge with the scathing darkness that surged through your soul. I knew nothing about you, Oriya Mibu and yet you seemed to _consume _me as nothing else had! My brain was a forcible jumble that night, throwing itself back and forth between thoughts of you and thoughts of her. Oh, if only I could resolve myself to peace of mind and peace of soul! If I, as a dead man was unable to find rest, then what peaceful sleep could possibly await anyone? There seems to be no freeing oneself from the passions of the Waking world!

_I can't seem to forget about you…_

I felt the back of Ichibana's fingers slap the side of my face. "Stop _angsting!_ My _GOD _can't you dead people do anything else other than regret what may be or what should have been? Relax why don'tcha? Ye got young, trim, handsome bodies and a whole town just waitin' to be yer oyster!" He sighed happily, resting both arms down on the balcony and peering over the sunlit city of Tokyo with a contented expression. "It's a great time ta be alive! Well… in a matter o' speakin'."

Tsuzuki chuckled congenially, dabbing the ash from the tip of his cigarette into the ashtray I kept on the balcony table. "What place did you want to go to tonight, Ichi? Should we grab a few beers at _Sîné's?_" _Sîné's _was our usual Tokyo haunt because of its' convenience (being only a few blocks down from _Sakura Zensen) _and the fact that it housed both a comfortable bar and club area. But mostly because Ichibana was in a serious long-term relationship with the Head Steward Orias. This meant getting our drinks cheap and being on the VIP list. _Sîné's _appropriately enough, was entirely staffed by supernatural folks, which meant we could relax just that little bit more when we got a few under the belt.

Orias Crowley was one of the few demons registered on the Ministry's system as a mainstreamer – in so saying, he had assumed human form and was living a normal enough existence amongst them. When I'd first bound Ichibana to my service, he became acquainted with Orias soon thereafter; as a means of staying connected to the demonic realm, I suppose. They had been friends for twelve years and lovers for the last five.

It didn't bother me none. Orias wasn't on security watch, which basically meant he was a non-threat. His only concerns were earning money, making his way and living comfortably. He was a hard-working, no-nonsense and genuinely kind person, who turned out to be a very good influence on Ichibana's more formally rambunctious nature. Having them court was doing me a favor, rather than a disservice.

And considering just how fond Ichibana was of Orias, you would have thought he would have been eager to skip off down to _Sîné's_ and catch up. So Tsuzuki and I were both surprised to see his mouth downturn at the very mention of the club's name.

"Ah… I dunno if we should. Plenty of other places to go."

Tsuzuki and I exchanged a look.

"Did you and Orias have another fight?" I guessed, resting my back on the balcony railing and hearing it creak beneath my weight. Ichibana shook his head, placing his cigarette daintily between his teeth.

"It's not even that… he's just been actin' crabby lately. Probably best that I give him some space."

"But I _like Sîné's_!" Tsuzuki whined, clearly having taken Ichibana's feelings on the matter into consideration. "It's the best place to go and relax! And the people that go there are always hotter than anywhere else! You said so yourself, Ichi!" He put an arm around the djinni's slender shoulders and gave him a comforting rock. "Besides, you and Orias have been through heaps of stuff together! I'm sure he really wants to see you!"

Ichibana rolled his eyes as he drew back on his cigarette. "Kid, in the real world not every couple is happy bein' together twenty-four seven. Sometimes, it's healthy to have some time apart."

"How long has it been since you guys have seen one another?" I asked, going straight in for the kill. "I can't remember if you've visited this week or not…"

"Two weeks." He established, exhaling cigarette smoke and slumping his chin down into the cup of his hand with a somnolent sigh. "Ye guys probably think I'm a spineless sucker."

"Well, if we did, we would never say it out loud." I said, smiling at Tsuzuki as I drew back on my smoke and flicked the residual ash over the side of the balcony. Tsuzuki chuckled at Ichibana's expression.

"Still, here you are having a jab at us for stressing over guys and you're doing the exact same thing!" He grinned, ducking out of the way as Ichibana attempted to poke him in the cheek. "Come on, I think you'd better go and talk to him! And I know I could use a beer!"

Ichibana stuck his bottom lip out in an entirely sulky fashion. "If he can't be bothered callin' me, I ain't philandering to him, the damn teapot."

'Teapot' was Ichibana's cruel nickname for Orias, who had lost his right arm in an unnamed accident some years ago. I do suppose if you all summon your imagination you will have some understanding of where the name 'teapot' might have originated. I thought it mighty unfair of Ichibana to be saying such things, especially when it was clear he had no intention of remaining in this gray funk. "Now, why do ya bother talkin' like that when ya know you're just gonna go back on it later?"

The djinni shrugged in a would be nonchalant manner. "I call a pot a pot when it's a pot. 'Sides, he's probably gone cold fish cause he's sick o' me hangin' on 'im all the time."

"That's not true, he loves you." Tsuzuki insisted, a romantic and envious twinkle in his eye. "I think it's adorable."

The djinni looked positively disgusted at this wording. "_Adorable?! _What are we, Edward and freakin' Bella?!"

"'_And the lion fell in love with the lamb…'" _I quoted mockingly, ducking to one side as Ichibana proceeded to lash out at the two of us. Tsuzuki laughed as he ducked the other way, barely missing the toe of the djinni's high-heeled shoe as it zeroed in on his ankle.

"Yes! And Ichibana's the lion!"

"Of course he is!" I concurred, thrilled to see how we were winding the feisty creature up. "Orias is a darling after all. I think he's a saint for having put up with you this long personally."

Ichibana looked fit to be tied. "Saint, my ass. And that quote could very well describe you and Mad-Eye, Chastity-Boy, so don't go gettin' too carried away!"

Tsuzuki gasped, his eyes turning on me with a horrid countenance. "Watari! He's pickin' up on your horrid nicknames!"

I could care less. "Can I help it if I'm inspirational like that? Well, whatever the case, we are going to go and see your little Lamby tonight, whether you agree to it or not." I said to my irate djinni.

Ichibana sighed so dramatically you would suppose the weight of five worlds was crushing down upon his delicate shoulders. "Fine. But I'm attending out of protest. And only because I think you two _really _need to get out and get a little action."

"I ain't promisin' nothin." I declared, waving my hands to dissociate all responsibility with that statement. "Not with a face like mine."

Tsuzuki laughed as he checked his watch. "Well, I'd best be getting back to work. You alright now, Watari?"

I made an 'OK" sign with my fingers. "Sound as a pound, mate."

He smiled as he opened the door, patting his palm against the inside edge as he turned back to look at me. "Right. Well, you'd best get some rest now. Big night comin' up. I'll be back later to help ya get packed up for your trip in the morning."

"I'll be waiting to help ya pick out clothes for your big date this evening." I sang, doing a little tap-dance on the spot as I picked up my beer. Tsuzuki could only moan with exasperation as he turned on his heel and marched away to the accompanying fanfare of our teasing laughter.

Okay, so it wasn't truly funny. Having dinner with a serial killer rarely is. But what's a dead guy to do when faced with the imminent prospect of facing his gorgeous prospective sweetheart and the grisly remains of three once-beautiful women, cut down in such a fashion that rivaled the handiwork of Jack the Ripper himself?

We all need our tension breaker. And the horror that was to be Tsuzuki's weekend was just the ray of sunshine I needed to ease the burden of my troubled mind. Misery loves company… and a laughter track.

And I was in the mood to be entertained.

_**~ EC ~**_

**A/N: **My, Watari has become a sadistic little fellow in this rewrite. As you can see dear readers, there is not much to the additional chapter but I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Check out chapter five, though I've done only the smallest of procedures on that one, having liked it pretty much the way it was when I first wrote it. You don't take the scalpel to a pretty face! Unless of course you're Muraki but there's just no accounting to how some people get their kicks. By all means, why are you sitting around reading this waffle? Leave a review if you like or read on! Go on now, scoot! Chapter five awaits you, weary traveler!


	5. Tsuzuki: Death, dinner and the Doctor

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** I have NO money! *Waves hands* Please don't sue me! I own NOTHING!! NOTHING I TELL YOU!!

**Note: **This chapter is from Tsuzuki's POV. I haven't changed a great deal in the rewrite, just generally tidied up and changed the flow of conversation to make it sound a little less goochy. The conversation between Tsuzuki, Watari and Pandora has also been re-written to fit in with the change in storyline. I do hope readers enjoy it.

**Dinner, Death and the Doctor.**

_In a time,_

_When the sun sets alone_

_I ran a long, long way from home_

_To find a hope that's made of stone_

_I will try_

_I just need a little time_

_To get your face right out of my mind_

_To see the world through different eyes_

_Every time I see you, oh_

_I try to hide away_

_But when we meet it seems I can't let go_

_Every time you leave the room_

_I feel I'm fading like a flower_

_Tell me why_

_When I scream there's no reply?_

_When I reach out there's nothing to find_

_When I speak, I break down and cry (cry)_

_Every time I see you, oh_

_I try to hide away_

_But when we meet it seems I can't let go_

_Every time you leave the room_

_I feel I'm fading like a flower_

_Fading like a rose_

_Beaten by the storm_

_And Talking to myself_

_Getting washed by the rain_

_It's such a cold, cold town_

_It's such a cold town_

_Every time I see you, oh_

_I try to hide away_

_But when we meet it seems I can't let go_

_Every time you leave the room_

_I feel I'm fading like a flower _

_Fading like a rose_

_~ "__**Fading like a Flower"**_

_**Roxette**_

"_If man were immortal he could be perfectly sure of seeing the day when everything in which he had trusted should betray his trust, and, in short, of coming eventually to hopeless misery. He would break down, at last, as every good fortune, as every dynasty, as every civilization does. In place of this we have death."_

~**Charles Sanders Peirce**

**What does this say about Shinigami?**

**Tsuzuki**

Seventy-three years ago, I ended my life in Tokyo.

It is also the city in which I was born and raised. I guess you could say that makes it my home town, though to be honest I do not reserve many fond memories of my time there. After tonight however, perhaps the old memories would look considerably brighter in comparison.

I tried to console myself with the thought that whatever Muraki had in store for me couldn't be any worse than everything else I had gone through already. And the man _did _remove Hisoka's curse as promised, though we hadn't had time yet to confirm the removal beyond reasonable doubt, since Watari had been excused for the day.

And by the way, I resent the fact that you think that I always try to be the center of attention. Who's the one who dresses in all colors of the rainbow, huh?

The night was starting to get cold. I paced restlessly outside of the restaurant, peering in through the front windows in hopes I might spot the fair haired doctor awaiting my arrival. Once I had him in my sight I'd be able to relax a little. Not knowing where he was and what he was doing, gnawed on my nerves like a tiresome dog at a bone. I'd even arrived early, hoping to inspect the scene for possible traps or even uncover any alternative motives Muraki may have had, should he have decided to spout them in the middle of the street. However, I had been circling the restaurant for the last hour and a half like a hungry vulture, testing the Acasual boundaries for tangible spells, traps, demon's lurking in the shadows with empty belly's and bad people skills. So far I had come up with nothing. Less than nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. Even the adjacent alleyways were uncharacteristically clean and people friendly. It was kind of disappointing. I had a great adrenaline surge that was now going to waste. I checked my watch. Seven-fifteen.

This was just ridiculous! I had been monitoring the door for the past hour and a half and I had yet to see the doctor once! Either he was here before I arrived (unlikely) or he was planning to arrive right on the dot.

If he arrived at all that was. The restaurant looked suspiciously… bare. I peeked inside again, seeing waiters saunter past in black tie and suit, moving things around. But there were no other customers in the establishment. Not a one. It was as though the restaurant itself had just been set up for business!

I pulled the card out of my trench coat pocket and checked the name that was scrawled in gold writing. It was definitely the right place as the large sign above the door boasted. Expansive as it was, I expected there to be others dining in close proximity, so that Muraki was restrained somewhat from any malicious or ambiguous acts. In the presence of so many people, he was more likely to behave himself.

Far as I could see, there were _no _customers here at all.

This is what made me so anxious.

"Where the hell is he?!" I muttered, leaning against the walkway railing with my hands in my pockets. The restaurant overlooked much of the city; the lights winking like stars from the valley below. It was a clear and beautiful night. The moon, I was thankful to see, was not full. Call me crazy but a blood red moon has become something of a bad omen as of late.

My ears suddenly picked up a faint sound heading in my direction. I opened one eye and popped up my dog ears, which were much more sensitive to noise. Footsteps heading in my direction and in considerable speed. I straightened up, my pose defensive. I doubted that it was Muraki. I don't think the doctor even knows how to run. In a state of the emergency, he would undoubtedly exit a burning building at a brisk walk. You could plant a bomb beneath the man's feet and he would calmly walk away from it. And be well out of the blast radius by the time the damn thing exploded.

The footsteps suddenly stopped and everything fell silent. Well, as silent as things can be in the grand old city of Tokyo. I listened intently for anything that might explain the unknown vigilante but nothing gave him or her away. A minute passed and I was just about to go back to checking the restaurant window, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around to see Watari hovering upside down beyond the railing. There was at least a two hundred foot drop beneath him.

"Hi! Come here often?" He asked beaming.

I flashed him a very condescending stare and turned to face him, leaning my lower arms on the railing. "So you decided to turn up after all. Did you just do a running jump over the railing here?"

"You bet I did! Quite a rush too if I do say so myself!" Now you can't be any more carefree than that. The blond haired scientist kicked his legs as though swimming and with arms crossed lazily behind his head, levitated over the railing to join me. He slowly unfurled and touched the ground with astute elegance, raising one finger before his merry expression. "Sorry I'm late Tsuzuki! The shops were _positively _packed!"

I nodded and did a double take. Watari was carting at least six or seven shopping bags, each from some pricy clothing store. Which meant he was probably broke now. He was wearing a tight black turtleneck beneath a lavish looking knee-length red jacket. His pants were made of some material I couldn't identify, probably couldn't even pronounce and his black boots with two inch heel were suede. His long wavy blonde hair was out and cascaded in enviable volumes down his back to brush the swayed arch of his waist.

I sighed and looked down at my usual attire of black suit and trench coat. I was feeling suddenly underdressed.

"You know Watari… I hate to break it to you, but this is actually _my _date. Not yours." I reminded him as he slapped my shoulder boisterously and then quickly bounced over to check the restaurant. "You know, I really appreciate you coming and everything… but if you're not feeling well_-_"

He cast me a puzzled expression. "Whatever are you talking about Tsuzuki? I _know _whose date it is! I'm just here as support; remember?" He skipped back up to me and pinched my cheek delicately. "This is a covert operation and it's not like you could ask Tatsumi or the kid to do it! Both of them would fly off the handle if they knew what you were up to!"

"You've got that right." I mumbled, scratching my head. Thinking about Hisoka and Tatsumi and all that they'd done for me, made my presence here seem like a betrayal. "Watari… do you think I'm doing the right thing? Going along with Muraki?"

The blond chuckled. "Well, you're not exactly going along with him Tsuzuki. You're both here of your own free will! Besides, if it is as you've said, using the doctor's obsession with you may work in our favor!" He grinned a little evilly. "Think of it as putting a muzzle on a rabid dog. Or removing the teeth from a lion. You are preventing Muraki from injuring others by doing this; you are essentially taking from him what gives him the desire to kill. You _are_ the muzzle Tsuzuki. Of course you are doing the right thing. Especially since you insisted I join you. Tatsumi and the kid wouldn't understand, despite the logic. There's too much bad blood there. If the doo-doo hits the fan, you can make damn sure that I won't let my crush on you get in the way of handing Muraki's ass to him on a platter!"

Well, that was certainly something I would pay money to see. I laughed a little and lightly biffed him on the arm. "Get off of it." I said, though I was thankful for his verification of my actions. Watari has this incredible way of making everything seem all right in the end. He was always positive, always cheerful and energetic. He was not one to let himself get bogged down in personal problems or bad feelings.

Which was why it was such a shock to see him that way this afternoon. It was surprising; Watari was a doctor and a scientist. He'd grown accustomed to seeing dead bodies a long time ago. The previous nights venture to the Tachiagari had been significantly more confronting and yet he'd barely battered an eyelid, whence compared to his intense reaction to the photographs of the Kyoto Cleaver's victims.

I could only assume that this had been something of a personal nature. And as much as I wanted to ask, Watari clearly did not want the topic brought up again. Displays where he lost control embarrassed him and I would only be further offending him by mentioning it now.

I shook off my thoughts and smiled at him genuinely. "Thanks again for coming with me tonight. I'm sorry to have caused you any trouble, especially when you're off so early tomorrow."

Watari winked as he leant against the railing beside me. "Oh nonsense! It's my pleasure! No point in sitting around reviewing the case specifics all night. Think of it as payment for helping me pack this afternoon!"

"No problem Watari." I said, checking my watch distractedly. Twenty past… "Got me out of paper work… and I was able to prevent that disastrous fashion faux-pas."

"Which one?"

"You know 'which one'," I said, flashing him a look. "That hideous piece of dental floss that you insisted passed for clothing."

Watari raised an eyebrow, confused. "What are you talking about Tsuzuki…?" Light suddenly dawned in his eyes. "Do you mean my thong?"

I pretended to be flabbergasted. "Oh… that's right. It wasn't dental floss. Though it was a fairly easy mistake to make. I kept wondering to myself… 'When would Watari find the time to floss?'"

"I'll have you know that that was a 60000 yen 'dental floss.'" The blond said indignantly, hands on his hips. Now I didn't even have to pretend to be flabbergasted.

"For a piece of string?!" I nearly choked on the air. "Where on earth were you planning to wear it? At the front desk?"

"Well it _is _a brothel…" Watari said, batting his eyelashes innocently. Much forehead slapping ensued.

"It is first and foremost a _restaurant._" I reminded him gently. "The brothel part is meant to be a secret, at least to everyone but VIP's. Do ya wanna put people off of their food?"

Good choice of words there Tsuzuki. Now I had offended him. Watari's mouth dropped open and he learned close, prodding me so violently in the chest with each word that he nearly threw me over the railing.

"And just what do you mean by _that_?!" He said, punctuating his sentence with a hard poke from his finger. I sighed and tried to duck away from him.

"Nothing." I checked my watch again and then ritualistically appraised the window. Still no sign of my indubitable dinner companion. "Just tell me that you didn't end up packing that atrocious shoelace."

Watari paced about with his bags swinging in the crook of his arm. He seemed ten times more impatient than I was. Idleness was not a part of his vocabulary. "No, I realized that you were right."

Something I always love to hear. "Good."

"That thong really was no good for me! So, I brought myself some new underwear. TAH-DAH!!"

At this, I was treated to examine the contents of one of Watari's bags. Thankfully, I did not get a detailed look, but I could see he'd at least bought himself some sensible boxer shorts and the like, which suggested he was calming down in concern to flamboyant undergarment options. I rolled my eyes, thinking that it had taken him long enough.

"Wonderful." I said with sincerity. "Well, looks like you're all set for your trip I'm guessing the other bags are full of relatively evocative clothing, guaranteed to turn the eye of a particular young swordsman?"

Watari grinned unashamedly and nodded, prompting another sigh from me. I would be lying if I said that my wacky friend did not enjoy the thrill of the chase, the pursuit of something he hoped to obtain. Perhaps this is what led him to become a Shinigami. In this way, he was a little like Muraki I supposed. Though Watari had a tendency to be more gentle and playful in his enticements, rather than forceful and belligerent.

"You don't even know the half of it. How do my eyebrows look?" He suddenly asked, swooping in close and raising his eyebrows for inspection. It was a little hard to tell in the dark, but I assumed he had done something with them. This was the part where I just played along and said what he wanted to hear.

"Smashing." I said.

"Tint and shaping." Watari explained to my shrewd observation. "Nails?" He held out his hands.

"Lovely." I said.

"Manicure. How about my hair?" He spun around and shook his head, causing his hair to whip about in a truly eye catching way. I'd known women who would die to have hair like his.

"Stunning." I told him.

"Trim and styling. Not to mention special treatment with three different brands of shampoo! My hair can be _so _uncooperative when it wants to be." He turned to face me and even in the fading light I could see him chewing his lower lip worriedly. "I'm kind of nervous Tsuzuki. I really wanna make a good second impression. The first time I ever met the guy, he was slicing up Hisoka, which doesn't leave too much room for interpretation."

I wanted to remind him that if anyone should be nervous, it was the guardian about to embark on a dinner date with a renowned perverted serial killer and rapist, who's had designs on him since day one. But then I remembered that Watari was going to be plunging head first into the search for a supernatural killer who had reduced three women to little more than scraps of flesh, the Gushoushin his only support if all went to hell. Focusing his attentions on this 'Oriya Mibu' was perhaps the minor means of comfort he enforced in order to settle his rattled constitution. I bit back my rebuttal and offered what little sympathy I could.

"He probably only said that because he saw your blond hair and bright clothes and figured that… maybe… you weren't all that… clever…" I said benevolently. Watari's eyebrow twitched. "He could be one of those guys who just believes' the stereotypes! But don't you worry; once he gets to know you, I'm sure that he's going to love you just as much as the rest of us do!"

Watari sighed and gazed up at the sky. "I hope you're right…"

I grinned and slung my arm around his shoulders. "Of course I'm right! You're going to save the day _and _get the guy! And don't you worry about a thing, I won't tell _anyone _about your attempts to woe him, just as long as you keep this little expedition tonight here a secret."

"No problems there!" He said, patting my hand gratefully. He turned his back to me again. "What about my butt? Can you check to see if it's firm enough?"

I blanched. "Watari… our friendship means a lot to me. But not _that _much."

He shrugged. "Worth a try." Watari leant back on the railing again and was just holding up his hand to catch a yawn, when the sound was firmly assassinated in his throat. His mouth clamped shut. "_Uh-oh._" He said.

Great. Just what I didn't need. An 'uh-oh.' "Uh-oh' what?" I asked, looking around nervously. Watari straightened up and pointed down the railing to my far right. Someone was emerging out of the shadows and heading steadily in our direction. At first I thought it might be Muraki, impeccably on time as it were and was about to say as much to Watari when the other guardian cut me off with a shake of his head.

"It's not Muraki." He said, coming around to stand beside me and squinting into the darkness before us. "Not tall enough. And certainly doesn't have his aura. I can sense Muraki coming a mile off."

I shrugged. "Why the 'uh-oh' then? Huh? Trying to get me all worked up for no reason?"

"How dare you, sir." Watari snorted, straightening his glasses and leaning forward on the tips of his toes. He looked like a bird about to launch into flight. "The 'uh-oh' concerns someone _else _you probably don't want to see right now. Whoever this is, they have the exact body shape and hairstyle as a certain young Shinigami we both know as Hisoka Kurosaki. Hence, 'uh-oh.'"

'Uh-oh' was an understatement. As the figure came closer I could indeed see the uncanny resemblance to Hisoka, even through shades and shadows. It got worse. Same distinct untamed hairstyle, same long legs, same body shape. I couldn't make out the clothing but I already knew it would be denim, with the pants tucked into the jogging shoes. My whole body went rigid and my face flushed in guilty acknowledgement. He'd found out! Somehow he found out what I was doing and now he thought I had betrayed him!

I couldn't let Hisoka catch me here. He meant too much to me. Too damn much. It was time to go.

"Wait Tsuzuki!" Watari begged, grabbing me by the arm as I moved to run past him. My attempt to escape was so forceful I nearly pulled him off of his feet. "What's the point in trying to run now? He's already seen us."

Like Muraki's summoning however, it was not the inevitability of what was to occur but more the fact that like so many things in my life, I couldn't accept it. Even after hearing Watari's cool clarification, I still tried to keep on running, wondering if I could jump over the railing and float away unnoticed. Maybe Watari could lie and say we were here on one of his dates? Or we were out drinking as usual? I was already formulating a million excuses in my mind, trying to piece together the most acceptable one as Watari dug his heels in to restrain me and I struggled against his hold as though my head might implode if I remained in place. Knowing Hisoka, I could certainly say that an imploding head would be the least of my concerns.

The footsteps came up and stopped behind us. I couldn't even bring myself to face him.

"I'm sorry Hisoka!!" I wailed, clenching my fists hard around the handrails until the knuckles went white. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen but- I just thought… it was all I could do to- if you just give me a moment to explain-"

"Uh… Tsuzuki…?" Watari said softly. He gently touched my shoulder, pushing against the bone to turn me around until I faced my partner. I prepared myself for the deserved hail of abuse, punches, tantrums that were expected when your trusted friend was caught attending a dinner date with the man who killed you. But amazingly, none of that came. I cranked open one eye as Watari began to embarrassedly apologize for my outburst.

"We're awful sorry about that. Mistook ya for someone else." He said with a bashful chuckle. The young boy, all of fifteen years old, just smiled at us as though he had been expecting no more or less. It was easy to see how we had mistaken him for Hisoka at first. The boy was practically a spitting image of him. He had the same dry brown tone of hair, hinted streaks of blonde tracing the highest ridges. There was something unique about his looks, which gave me the impression that apart from appearance, he held nothing in common with my partner. Whilst Hisoka's eyes were bright green and closed to the world, the boy before me had ice blue twins that seemed to gaze into my soul with careful scrutiny. As if he were aware of all that had come before me, all the horrendous things I had seen and committed in my life. As young as he appeared, there was no youthful naivety in his disposition. Rather he appeared somehow wise beyond his years.

I reconsidered. His hands were no longer in his pockets. He had them crossed wrist over wrist before his waist, in a stance that neither Hisoka nor Hijiri would ever adopt. The blue-eyed boy didn't slouch and his body remained straight beneath and behind his arms; chin tilted up toward me confidently and one leg bent slightly at the knee, allowing him to tap the toe of one shoe against the ground as he studied the two of us.

Taste in clothing also differed. He was wearing a tight black turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up; exposing what looked to be like cigarette burns on his inside lower arms. The faded black pair of jeans he had on were worn away on the left knee and had a number of tears littered throughout the material. His black shoes were scuffed and in desperate need of a polish.

Eventually, he broke the silence, after I had squirmed for a suitably long time beneath his adolescent expression. "Do I remind you of someone?" He asked and there was genuine curiosity in his tone. His voice was tender, like a caress of fingertips across the flesh of my forearms. With every passing moment he became less like Hisoka to me.

I smiled and tried not to let my sudden inexplicable apprehension of this kid show. I did back up a step however. "No. Well… no one you need to worry about anyway."

Watari came around to my side and knelt down to address the kid on a more personal level. Not that the boy was that much shorter than us, but it seems to be an odd habit with adults. Somehow kneeling down indicates that we are approachable to the child and we lesson our intimidation.

"Isn't it a little late for a young man like yourself to be wandering around?" Watari asked kindly. He phrased it in such a way that it did not sound condescending. "A place like Tokyo, you never know who you're going to run into."

The boy tilted his head back and shook his face from side to side. Some kind of silver pendant dangled at his throat. A crucifix.

"Yes… for a young fellow I do suppose it would be." His gaze traveled to the side and he huffed in what sounded like an ironic fashion. Those icy blues leapt up to focus on me. "Never know… when you're going to come across a dead man. I should be more careful, if I don't want to end up like either of you. Is that what you are saying?"

I saw Watari physically lurch. He nearly fell back on his butt at the boy's words. My eyes literally bulged from my face as I registered what it was he was saying. And even though I had heard it, my mind continued to deny it.

"What did you say?!" I snapped. The kid merely smiled and walked toward the restaurant, hands drawn over his stomach and picking at something beneath the nails. "Hey I'm talking to you kid!"

"Kid?" He spun around, an untouchable smile stretched across his face. His face that was longer than Hisoka's, shaded around the edges and a mouth that was too wide and clever when he smirked. "My name is Pandora. You are Asato Tsuzuki. And you-" He looked at Watari who had somehow staggered to his feet. "-are Yutaka Watari. Shinigami. Dead men walking."

I didn't know what to say. I began to back up as the kid approached me confidently, hand outstretched to touch me. Forcing myself to relax, I reasoned that it wasn't impossible for a normal human being to know about Shinigami, or even the names of specific guardians themselves. With this in mind, I let him gently squeeze a hold of my arm as though testing the muscle through the fabric of my coat. Then he smiled and this time, there was true feeling to it.

"You know…" He said conversationally. "You don't feel dead to me. I can feel the warmth of your flesh. The warmth of the person you are, the kind of person you are. A kind man." The hand trailed up to my shoulder and rested there comfortably. "You understand what it's like, right? To want to live, even when you know you don't have the right? Even when your being alive can bring such terrible pain for others…" He used his free hand to press my own to the wall of his chest and then slowly looked over his shoulder as though seeking out something. "To want those things we know we should force away... to risk everything all for the chance that we can live just a little longer." He looked into my face and I was shocked by the degree of desperation in his expression. As though he were seeking my approval. "Is that such a bad thing? Is it okay to be selfish for yourself after giving so much for others? To be… afraid…"

Pandora, as he called himself, received no reassurance from me. His eyes whelmed with anxious dread as I pushed him away from me and quickly backed off. My brows were furrowed in defense but I was not past the point of exasperation or fear yet. I did not fear this being the way I feared Muraki.

"You're so moralistic… Of course you think such selfishness is weak and wrong." He murmured, leaning back against the railing and trailing his fingers along it. One fingernail scratched away the paint as he traced a line on the far side. "Shinigami make the choice to return to life because they have regrets of which are not dealt with. You work with a partner because you don't trust yourselves to not take advantage of what that new life entails. The bygone peoples are the most selfish… but you don't realize just how selfish you are until your life is dangled before your eyes like an object that can be so easily taken away forever." He smiled sympathetically at our confused expressions. "I came to find you tonight… _both _of you. I wanted to say that…" His eyes welled with tears as he lifted his weight from the balcony rail and turned to face us with sincerity so naked, that it quite embarrassed me to be witness to it. "I'm sorry. I'm _so _sorry for it. For being selfish… for thinking I had a right to come back here."

Watari glanced at me incredulously and then back to the boy. "Kid… I don't have the foggiest what you're talking about. And I'm guessing from my mates goonie expression, that he hasn't a clue either."

The boys' eyes clenched together so tightly, it looked as though he were fighting back a sharp and sudden pain. When he opened them, sweat had broken out on his upper lip and forehead as thick and round as marbles.

"I risked so much just coming to see you now but I had to… I had to tell you. I didn't mean for all those people to die. I couldn't help it! I tried… I tried to stop it but it's too strong for me. All those people… God forgive me." He clenched the crucifix at his throat so tightly that blood began dripping from the base of his fist. Light dawned in my mind and his words made sudden, sickening sense to me. From the look on Watari's face, I could tell that he had made that connection also.

"The Tachiagari! _You_!" Watari dropped the bags and lunged for the boy before I had the chance to react. The boys eyes slammed shut again as he allowed himself to be caught between Watari's hands and the Shinigami tugged him violently close, almost lifting him up off the tips of his toes in his anger. "What the _Hell _are you?! Why did you kill all those people?!" He shook the boy, who broke into sobs so despairing that it jarred my heart.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please don't be angry with me! I just wanted to go back to the place I knew. I _thought _I had it under control. I thought it would be okay for me to be selfish just this once! I never meant… Oh god, all those people!" His sobs escalated to full throttle cries and Watari looked truly disgusted at having to keep his grip on this pitiful thing as it dribbled all over him. "I can't take it anymore… this is nothing. Nothing!"

"I don't understand… what do you want us to do?" I asked gently, trying to look into the face I had seen disintegrate before my very eyes the previous night. Shining blue pierced through the slant of his eyelids as they slid slowly open, long eyelashes wet with tears.

"Help me…" He whimpered. I felt the fear, the pain and the sadness roll off of him, so palpable it turned my chest to cold steel. "Help me finish this… before it finishes me."

Watari gasped in shock, his hands flailing wildly in the huge puff of white feathers that suddenly exploded between his hands. He cursed, grabbing for even these as they slipped through his fingers and weaved over the balcony and away into the night air to parts unknown. I raced to the balcony railing, staring after them with confusion and a quiet, disconcerting sadness. Watari stomped noisily to my side, hurling the small handful of feathers he had managed to snag after the rest with a vehement, 'Gah!'

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" He cursed, slamming his hands onto his hips and taking a deep and forceful breath that seemed to drop his ribcage down into his stomach. "He did it again! It's like trying to hold onto a piece of god-damn soap!"

"What should we do?" I asked softly, twirling one of the feathers that had been caught in a cobweb beneath the railing. Watari growled as he scratched the back of his head, clearly having a difficult time controlling his frustration at being evaded by this strange child again.

"I put through a call to the Containment sector, give them a full description of the kids appearance. They decide how to handle it from then on in." He looked at me impatiently. "Why are you giving me that look? Wait, I know what you're thinking." He shook his finger at me before I even had a chance to open my mouth. "The kid got to ya with his crying 'help me' routine. I can read you like a book, mate. You don't think I should dob him in until we know more about his situation."

I shrugged uncomfortably. "Well-"

"Tsuzuki!" Watari groaned with exasperation. "That kid is responsible for the death of thirty-eight people! He's a danger so long as he's out and about. Even if he's possessed by a demon, there's no way I can take the chance or the time to find out more about him."

"Watari, the Containment sector have orders to kill him on sight!" I shouted, surprising even myself with my passionate exclamation. "That kid we just spoke to; he's not the same as that _thing _we chased all over the library last night. I _know _you feel that too. How can we give over his name and appearance to the Containment sector just so they can go out and kill him without question?" I grabbed Watari's arms between my hands and looked as desperately into his eyes as the imploring child had gazed into my own. "Something's wrong. He's struggling with something and he needs our help."

Watari knocked my hands away. "_I _have a mad mutilator in Kyoto that requires my attention, never mind what _this _kid _needs_ from me. And _you _need to concentrate on your problems. One of which you need to deal with in the imminent future." He turned me about to face the doors of the restaurant and the reason for my being here in the first place came violently rushing back to the forefront of my mind. _Dinner. Muraki. Tonight._ "Why don't we focus on _that_ in the meantime and not go sticking our noses into every other sob story that crosses paths with us, eh?"

He made perfect sense of course but the cold practicality of it refused to sit right with me. As the boy had said, I was a moralistic person. And no one could have ever accused me of taking the easy road. I looked over my shoulder into Watari's eyes, beseeching and he groaned.

"I'm gonna make the report to the Containment Sector, Tsuzuki. I'm sorry but that's non-negotiable. The interests of the Waking World have to be taken into consideration. But," He held up a cautionary finger. "If you decide to look into it, I'll help ya out. And hopefully, we'll be able to figure something out before the Containment Sector susses him out."

I beamed warmly at him. "Thankyou Watari."

He smirked ironically, jerking his chin upward to indicate over his shoulder. "'Sides, the little buggers so bloody slippery, it'll be a wonder if the Containment sector could _ever _get a hold of him. I just hope he can keep those urges to suck people dry under control until we can figure something out. Now come on, handsome." At this, he suddenly planted his foot into the small of my back and pushed me gently towards the door of the restaurant. (You recall that Shinigami have advanced strength. A gentle shove was enough to propel me almost face first through the glass and into the foyer). "Time to get that pretty ass molested."

"Watari!" I snapped, dusting at the footprint he had surely left on the back of my coat. "You are buying me the biggest drink once all this is over."

Watari grinned, slipping his arm over my shoulder. "I'll get ya a round of shots and a martini, how's that sound?"

Well didn't it just sound like music in my ears! "Love you." I purred, leaning my head against the blonds' shoulders.

"Yeah, I know." He said, giving me hearty shove through the revolving doors. "I don't know that kids deal anymore than you do, but we certainly weren't going to get anywhere what with your inability to say no to anyone."

Now is _that _the biggest load of hypocrisy you have ever heard in your life or what? I relayed this to him in much more colorful terms and got a box around the ears for my effort.

"Come on," he encouraged as I rubbed my bruised lobes. "Go to the guy at the front desk and ask for Muraki. The sooner we get this over with the better."

We emerged into the foyer and I stalled a little. "But we didn't even see Muraki go in! I bet he stood me up…"

BAP! That was Watari boxing my ears again.

"You sound like an insecure girl!" He muttered shaking his head in disgust. "Now look; Muraki is not going to stand you up. If anything _you _would be the one standing him up. You might have missed this but Muraki has a thing for you. And remember when I tell you that he's _not _to show it to you without your permission. Even if he is buying you dinner."

It took me a while to catch onto this but when I did I blushed so deeply that I could feel it in my bones. "Watari!"

"Try not to be nervous at the lack of people." He continued, unfazed. "I will be nearby at all times, completely undetected by our dear doctor. As discreet as discreet can be!"

"Yeah, as discreet as you were this morning? Great…" I said sarcastically.

BAP!!

"Ow!! At this rate, I'm not going to be able to hear _any _information that Muraki might tell me!" I sobbed, great pools of tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Watari was actually starting to look annoyed, a sight as rare as flying saucers.

"If I am to remind you Tsuzuki, I was able to inquire about Hisoka's curse without him having the slightest inclination about our intentions! So why not cut me some slack? I could be lying in bed at home right now, dreaming about the swordsman I'm going to seduce but instead I nobly chose to give up my luxury time and come down here to help you. Even after you insulted my taste in undergarments."

"All right, all right already!" I yelled, prodding at my ears. "Sheez… all I did was make a simple suggestion. I didn't mind the rest of your underwear… I even liked the boxers that were tri-color…"

"Oh forget it." He said waving a hand at me. "Now, what say we get this dinner underway, hmm?" He examined a menu on the wall and suddenly let out a cry of joy. "Oh my heaven's! They have Italian here! Ooooh… what a time for me to be discreet…" He moped.

I laughed a little to myself. Watari's favorite food was Italian. "Don't you worry, Watari. I'll make sure to get a doggy bag for you."

"That's what you said the last time you were at a restaurant and you ate it before you even got to my apartment." He grumbled. Cheering up almost immediately, he trotted back over to me and slapped me heartily on the rear. "It's all up to you now Tsuzuki! Go in there and have a jolly good time!"

I watched as he shifted into invisibility. If I switched into the second field of visual penetration I was still able to see him as clear as day and I confirmed this by poking him in the nose. As I made my way over to the attendant at the front desk, I felt Watari swat me on the back of my head.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.

"Um… excuse me sir but… we are not serving customers tonight." The attendant said, staring at my outfit with obvious repugnance. "The restaurant has been rented out by a VIP for the remainder of the evening. You'll have to come back some other day if you wish to dine here."

Well, that explained the noticeable lack of other patron's at least. Ooh, time to feel really important. I made sure to puff out my chest pompously as I replied. "My names Asato Tsuzuki. I've been invited by Kazutaka Muraki to dine with him tonight."

Mentioning Muraki's name was as effective as announcing that I was a close personal friend of the Emperor. I could see the reaction unfold on the attendants face almost immediately; like a rose blooming from its' tight bud at the emergence of the sun. His face lowered, allowing me to meet his eyes without an obstructive view of his nostrils.

"Ah yes… Tsuzuki-san. Muraki-san has been expecting you." He said stepping out from behind the small desk he was stationed at. "Come right this way."

I reached out a hand to stop him. "Excuse me sir, but might I ask how Muraki-san arrived here? I was waiting outside for quite a while and I didn't see him turn up."

The man smiled patiently at me, as though he were entertaining the curiosity of a child. "Muraki-san has been here all day, directing the presentation of the restaurant, in anticipation for your arrival." He gave my blushing expression a curt bow and I wondered how he was able to maintain such a straight face knowing that the doctor was dining with another man. Well… to be perfectly frank, he was dining with two men. Not that Muraki would know Watari was there. He was going to be _discreet._

The attendant requested once more that I follow him. I obediently trailed along behind him, down the short hallway and through the great oak double doors into the main room. Watari, who had been keeping up a steady pace alongside me, let out a loud whistle of appreciation. It caught the attention of the attendant who glanced backward, suspecting obviously that I had been the one to do it. Well I suppose if the shoe fits… My own reaction to the interior of the restaurant was just as startling. My mouth was hanging open like a kid in an ice cream factory.

Everything was styled in red, black and gold. The gold I mention came from lit candles on the walls, tables and chandelier. The plush, spongy carpet beneath my feet was a deep mauve; one might even say the color of old blood which did not surprise me. Damn that Muraki. Trust him to be attracted to a place like this. For some reason it made me wonder if Muraki had stained the floor red with the blood of his victims. He made a principle of extending tokens of 'appreciation' toward me such as this. In the most appalling way, I could see how this might be seen as romantic in the eyes of a killer like him.

The curtains hanging from the balcony windows were the same color as the carpet and tied tightly in the center, almost like a geisha's obi. One of the doors to the balcony was cracked open, allowing the cold wind from outside to gain entrance to the room. The lights were dim; a fire flickered in the great stone fireplace on the far wall.

Trust Muraki. He'd styled the restaurant like it was his own bedroom. All that was missing was some sleazy music. Damn, he'd even had roses put out. White, red and purple flowers permeated the air with their heavy perfume; set in full bunches on every table between here and the kitchen. The scent was suffocating in its' strangely alluring comeliness.

I wondered whether Muraki had such a deep affinity for roses because they were something like him in symbolism. Roses were pretty to look at, but when you least expected it, they could make you bleed.

And as Watari would put it, I was here to dethorn that rose once and for all.

"Talk about no expenses spared, big fella!" Watari whispered, giving me a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. The attendant turned to look at me, inquisitively.

"Did you say something sir?"

I cleared my throat and pointedly jammed my foot down on Watari's toe. He smothered a cry of pain as I faced the man who had escorted me in.

"I was just wondering where the doctor is? You say he's been here the entire time?"

The attendant nodded. "Yes, that's right. He's out on the terrace right now. Feel free to go right on through."

I nodded in appreciation and took a deep shuddering breath. Right, here we go. Time to bite the bullet. Summoning my inner strength, I approached the balcony; my coat wrapped tight around my body to defend me from the sharp sting of the cold night air. By the time I had reached the door which had been propped open by a strong chain to the outside wall, I had spotted Muraki.

He was perched on the stone railing, one leg dangling casually over the inside whilst the other was crooked up before him. He seemed meditative; his eyes were closed, his face angled up to embrace the cold wind rather than refute it, a cigarette clutched delicately between two fingers. As I watched he blew a stream of smoke out from between his lips, the night wind snaring it and carrying it away into the darkness. The possession of a single breath, to capture and to hold within its' hands, the way he so effortlessly held my own. He was dressed in white as always, his trench coat folded up neatly on a nearby stone bench.

Such a perfectionist. It would be so easy to take a run at him now; to shove him off of the side of the building to his death. Such thoughts had often gotten the better of me in the past. In anger I'd often attempted to overcome him and instead found myself at his mercy, pinned by his arms alone. With no magical aid he easily manipulated me to his own will. Even in Kyoto when I'd stabbed him that had only been a chance of luck. He'd gone insane with the thoughts of vengeance, letting his childish giddiness for the completion of the task he'd awaited so long to accomplish rule his emotions. That was why I'd won that round.

What a moment that had been. The look on his face had been incredible, the disbelief. The implausibility brushing against his own rationality that no one would be able to stop him such as I did. I was his toy. And I had taken the knife he had left so daringly by my side on the operating table and the kind, sweet Asato Tsuzuki, had plunged it into Kazutaka Muraki's abdomen. I'd twisted once, creating a corkscrew of scars across his belly, allowing blood to splash up over my face and neck. In that state, I had adored the feeling. Desired it as thoroughly as I'd ever desired to make love. It was as though years of tension and denial had just been washed away.

I remember… Muraki had been reduced to something of his true self in those moments. As I stared down at him, bleeding out across the shining floor of the university basement, inviting the two of us to die together, his voice changed. I naturally assumed it would; after all, he had just been stabbed. But… the voice was not angry, not vengeful at me for what I'd done. He sounded… happy. Glad at the prospect of dying together. _"You actually wanna die with me?"_ He had asked.

And yes. Yes I had. Not so much die in your arms Muraki but take you down into death with me, as though killing you would redeem myself in some small way. Both of us are killers after all. You were just the one that never hated yourself for it.

There were no falsities in that one hopeful sentence you spoke. I heard it in you, the admonished tone that followed reminding me that my sorrow could not be swallowed by his death alone. I knew that. But when I look back on it now, maybe one part of me remains hopeful because of the way you spoke to me then. A man with hope, with desire, with aims and weaknesses, a man who _bleeds _is not beyond saving despite all that he has done.

I couldn't forgive you. Not ever, Muraki. But I could never forgive myself either, could I?

What does that tell me? To be honest… I don't know. I guess I think about things more than I really should, concern myself needlessly and return to the details of my past at a regular occurrence. I didn't want to learn how to live as you did. Without guilt, remorse or compassion.

I just wanted to believe that you could be saved. That's arrogant of me I suppose but you are still a person and I feel compassion for anyone that has ever been hurt because of me.

You were now one of them, Muraki. You were now mine to protect.

That's what kills a dead man like me.

I sighed softly and took a single step out onto the terrace. Muraki turned his head expectantly and I couldn't help but allow myself to tingle at the expression on his face. At first, I took him to be angry and I wondered if perhaps he'd had some inkling of my thoughts before I'd stepped out. Or maybe he had somehow seen Watari. Looking back now and switching to my second level of penetration, I was surprised to find that even _I _could not see him. Perhaps he was standing behind the door out of sight, allowing me some privacy with the good doctor.

Thanks Watari. Much appreciated.

Muraki's visible eye flashed. His face went undeniably still. The fingers clenched around the cigarette, gripped the smoldering cylinder until it had nearly snapped in two.

"Uh… I know I'm a little late." I said bluntly, looking down at my shoes. They were scuffed at the toes, nowhere near as shiny as Muraki's. "Sorry if you expected me to dress up. I'm probably an insult to this snooty restaurant of yours."

The comment was snide, rude. And bitter. Truth be told I was feeling kind of embarrassed about the way I had presented myself. Even Watari, as my invisible aide de camp looked more suited to this place than me. I had dubious suspicions that Muraki had done this on purpose, another insidious method to debase me such as he'd done in Kyoto by bringing up the scars on my wrist and the demon's blood in my veins.

The doctor rose to his feet, crushing the orange ember of the cigarette out on the cement and discarding it in an ashtray he'd been keeping handy near his feet.

"You look fine." He told me stiffly.

Oh fuck you. Some of us aren't rich doctors who can afford to have our bloodstained suits pressed to perfection every day. Or get 80 000 yen haircuts. Or shop at Armani's. Considering my low budget, I thought I'd done pretty well to get myself ready for tonight. I didn't actually say this, though I think I would have been fairly justified. Instead I just played the stiff upper lip and furrowed my brows.

"Shall we go inside then?" I asked crankily. "Did you actually leave any room for us to eat amidst all those roses, or is it your intention for us to eat off of the floor?"

Muraki cocked an eyebrow, his expression sincerely surprised. He paused for a moment, his body utterly and completely still. A premature rigor mortis.

"Why Tsuzuki-san… does this mean you may actually consent to eating in my presence for once?" He asked, seemingly astonished. My face went even redder. "Until now, I have wasted ridiculous amounts of money in attempts to dine and drink with you but each and every time you seemed fit to throw my generosity back in my face."

What the hell was he so pissed off about? This was _my _inconvenience, not his. "Well you do make a good point." I spun on my heel. "See you later Muraki, have a pleasant evening."

I don't even know if I truly intended to leave. Perhaps I only wanted to see if he would actually protest to my departure, or even apologize for being so impolite. If anything, the doctor was always civil to a fault, even to his victims though that was usually just a cruel mockery designed to express his complete control and fastidiousness in his dismissal of those that suited him.

Whatever the case, I was amazed to find that Muraki did not appear as overly concerned as before with maintaining his stateliness. A hand closed around my upper arm. Muraki gently eased me around to face him, his head cocked to one side exposing his artificial eye. The real one, the silver orb with the cat's iris streaking through it like a dark fissure, bore into me hotly. His gaze never left my face however, subjecting me to his full attention. I felt my knee's give out a little. It was too intimidating to have him stare at me in this manner; without humor. Without the dark smile and the teasing, suggestive comments. Now he appeared so serious in his actions and that was not the Kazutaka Muraki I'd come to know over the course of the past two-years.

"I have upset you." He said finally. A rhetorical question to which I could only reply with a limp sort of shrug. "Then I apologize. It was not my intention to incense or embarrass you. Not tonight. What is it that has you quite so irate, Tsuzuki-san? Is it my presence alone? Or do you have other reasons?"

He appeared genuinely curious, though I hadn't a clue where to begin illuminating my reasons for my anxious constitution. I thought of the Tachiagari… and the strange, sorrowful boy. I though of the anti-anxiety pills I had taken before coming out this evening and every other morning and night besides. I thought of the futility of my existence, my diagnosed depression and too many evenings spent alone and cold in my single bed. He was waiting for me to speak, his thumb rubbing tender circles into my inside elbow as though he were gently persuading me. I swallowed, trying not to let myself be caught in his eyes again.

"There's… so much." I said, staring straight ahead. It was a little hard to seem disinterested when Muraki's shoulder obscured the space into which I was trying to gaze. "Everything's caving in around me at the moment. And you," I glared at him from the corner of my eyes. "You invite me here to dinner and I turn up, despite my better sense and how do you greet me? With that snide, indifferent attitude! Considering everything you've put me through, you should be damn grateful I even went to _that _much of an effort, buddy!"

Well, no matter how I put it, it still sounded childish. Muraki would have been fully justified if he chose to laugh in my face but he did none of that. He didn't even smile at my tone. His thumb continued to caress my arm, his free hand coming up to stroke my shoulder.

"Is that how it looked to you?" he asked, his voice very gentle. "In that case, I must ask that you forgive me. I fear the expression was not appropriate and this is due to the fact that I was not prepared for your arrival at all, Tsuzuki-san. I was surprised. Pleasantly at that. For a moment I… hmm… how embarrassing this is for me to admit but… I truly did not know what to say. I was speechless. I did not articulate myself very well. I apologize."

Ah… well that made sense I supposed. I stared up at him, looking for anything that might indicate he was lying or omitting certain truths. Muraki had always been brilliant at maintaining his poker face, so I don't know what I hoped to achieve with this. He seemed genuine enough. He smiled slightly, both thumbs rubbing warm patches up across my arms. The night was starting to feel a little less cold and not just on the area's of my body that he was touching either. It was sickening this effect he had on me.

"I thought perhaps… you were angry that I looked so… grungy…" I spat out at last. "Not that I particularly care what you think but-"

Muraki's hand was suddenly on the back of my neck. He angled my chin upwards, moving his hand around so that his nails touched my right cheek and forced our eyes to meet. The moon was suspended directly behind him in the sky, giving him the appearance of some ethereal angel of the darkness. Beautiful and deadly.

The white rose that had never been trimmed from birth. Never grown to the boundaries of another's expectation of beauty. Under no mortal control, no scrutiny or constrictions. Muraki bloomed beneath the light of the moon, thorns hidden lest one stumble upon the rose in carelessness.

"Oh Tsuzuki-san… you are truly naïve, are you not?" He asked. Then, without waiting for a reply: "I made sure the restaurant was empty tonight because I could not bear the thought of others looking at you, when for once you came to me of your own free will. No matter how you are dressed, those all around you desire you as soon as they lay eyes on you. I couldn't have that."

My face flushed a little as he elicited a soft sigh of pleasure, leaning his face down close to me. He parted his lips invitingly, allowing them to barely touch my own. He held himself back with inhuman restraint murmuring an indistinguishable sound in his throat as I shivered beneath his touch.

"_Our _night." He whispered, using his hand to angle my face upwards slightly. The weight of his lips upon my own increased as though he were intent to direct the kiss into existence rather than enforce it purposefully. This action of slow and inevitable consummation made the experience that much more tempting. I growled in protest, twisting my face to the side and only succeeding in brushing the entire length of our lips together. My face went even redder as I shamefully acknowledged that I wanted him. Physically, at least. You'd almost have to be mad not to be attracted to Muraki on the basis of his physical appearance. If things kept progressing this way, I had a feeling something very bad was going to happen. Dammit! Where the hell was Watari when I needed him?!

**Watari**

Since you asked, I _was _actually standing behind the door keeping an eye on the two of you. I don't know what you expected _me _to do about it though. I was only asked to leap into action if Muraki was causing trouble. I couldn't possibly define his advancements on you as being particularly troublesome, since you didn't seem to be struggling all that much-

**Tsuzuki**

Dammit! Why don't you just admit you're a coward?!

Muraki didn't seem to mind that I had altered the course of his kiss and had instead put his face close to my neck. His hand found placement in the center of my back, pushing my body upward as he inhaled the visible skin of my shoulder. His brilliant silver eyes closed briefly as if to evaluate my scent. He exhaled slowly, his breath hot on my flesh. I gasped as his tongue darted out and lightly lapped the hallow of my neck.

"Muraki…" I hissed. He pressed one finger delicately against my lips as though to persuade me not to ruin the moment.

"You smell enchanting…" He whispered, softly kissing the patch of skin before my ear. "Wherever you go you stand out from the crowd. Like a butterfly in a roomful of moths."

I had a sudden, waning vision of two butterflies locked in a beguiling pattern of intercourse outside of a window. Suspended permanently in an eternal sunset.

Muraki, apparently satisfied for the time being, released his hold on my body, much to my relief. The calm did not last for long as three seconds later he had snagged my hand in his own and was gently leading me back into the warmth of the main room. I watched from the corner of my eye as Watari moved flawlessly into place behind us, his amber eyes trained resolutely on the center of Muraki's back. I pick fun, but I knew that if he tried anything, Watari would have acted in a second to whisk me out of the insidious doctors' clutches.

At least… I hoped he would.

We threaded our way through the rose crowned tables until we reached the bar. The barman, a middle aged man with graying hair smiled warmly as we approached; setting aside the glass he had been cleaning.

"What will it be?" He asked, addressing Muraki off of the cuff. He typically ordered a bottle of champagne. Not an altogether expensive or pretentious selection either. This pleased me for some reason or another, though I couldn't really explain why. I guess I just felt more comfortable the less formal things were. I watched Watari lick his lips sadly and take a dejected seat at one of the tables, head hanging low. To remain covert meant that he couldn't drink. It would look kind of suspicious if a glass of Akita gin were to start pouring into an unseen orifice from mid-air, not to mention it would slow his wits about him were Muraki to attempt anything. That was something I did not need. Watari trying to drunkenly rescue me. He couldn't even rescue himself from the wall of the Ninja Temple.

Muraki's hand on my arm drew me to one of the tables overlooking the terrace. I reached over to pull my chair out, when he suddenly slapped it away. Instead, he drew the chair away from the table and indicated I sit with a sweep of his hand.

"Please," he said to my stunned expression. "You are my guest tonight. Let me do all the worrying for you."

Easier said then done. How was he supposed to concern himself _over _himself? He couldn't worry for me. That would imply that he did not trust himself and Muraki had always struck me as someone who knew _exactly _what he was doing. Nevertheless, I accepted his momentary chivalry and sat down, very aware of the barman's eyes on us the whole time. _'Yes,'_ I thought, _'I get that we must look relatively gay right now.'_

Muraki proceeded around to his side of the table and slid into his seat with cat like agility. He placed the long stemmed glasses on the table and then proceeded to unwind the wrapping and wire from the opening of the bottle. Once they were discarded he removed the cork by holding it steady and then twisting the bottle out from beneath it. It took only three twists for him to be done with it. I gave a sarcastic little clap.

"Congrats Muraki," I said as he began to pour the wine. "Your mother must be so proud that you've mastered cork removal."

I noticed a twitch appear in his upper eyelid and then he suddenly set the bottle down hard on the table, so hard the glasses shook. Clearly I had said something I ought not to. After a minute or so, he regained his composure and began to steadily fill my glass. I glanced to the side. Watari was in limbo; his buttocks off of the seat, his legs still hooked beneath the table. He'd seen Muraki's agitation also.

"For future reference, Tsuzuki-san…" The voice was cold. Dangerous. "I would prefer it if you would avoid mentioning my mother, especially with such cynicism in your tone."

I'd clearly broached a very sensitive place, even more so than the fat jokes I'd been making the night before. I lowered my head, feeling acutely embarrassed despite everything that Muraki had done to my emotional state in the past. I wasn't like him though. I hated to see people hurt by things I said or did.

"I'm sorry." I said quietly. Despite the tone of my voice, Muraki seemed to take this the way it may seem if I was not eternally concerned with maintaining my furious disposition with him. The wet patch he had left on my shoulder only gave me further reason to dissuade him with mockery and derision. It seemed strange to me when the doctor reached across the table and squeezed the fingers of my left hand. He seemed to be pointedly ignoring my right for reasons that were blatantly obvious. Though not expected, especially from him.

"It's all right. I didn't mean to startle you." He soothed, rubbing his thumb against my knuckles. I allowed him that much intimacy before I pulled my fingers away and set them firmly in my lap, folded together as some indication of my finality. Muraki merely smiled and finished filling my glass. He pushed it towards me.

"I do hope you deign to at least sample some of what I offer you tonight." He said as I tentatively wound my fingers around the glass stem. I brought it towards me quickly, like a bird snatching food away from the feet of a human. "Be it the food and wine I place before you, or my affections. I want you to understand that I am prepared to give you anything you desire, if only for the pleasure of your company. However long you wish to stay with me."

At the word 'affections' I felt the toe of his shoe come into contact with my calf. It was not a harsh tap, but rather a growing pressure that escalated as he trailed it higher and then back down, stroking evocatively and still able to smile at me across the table. In complete control. I tried to scoot my chair back a little but Muraki acted swiftly, his foot swooping down to hook around the chair leg and pull it back until I was pressed right up against the table, caged in-between its' corner and the back of the seat. His face moved in close to me, a small smile permeating across those plush lips of his.

"Why Tsuzuki-san, whatever are you in such a rush for? We haven't even ordered the entrée's yet." One long hand slid beneath the table cloth and I shuddered as I felt it run up the back of my knee, gently caressing the skin at the very crease before sensually tracing the forward part of my thigh that was pressed to the chair. My words shot from between my teeth like bullets.

"What makes you think you have the right to put your filthy hands on me?!" I hissed, reaching out to grab him by the front of his suit. His expression not changing, his other hand burst forward and I found the pressure point between my thumb and index finger. He pressed so tightly I collapsed face down on the table in a moan of agony. "You… b-bastard!! How- how DARE you?!"

"How dare _I_?" Muraki asked metaphorically as the hand beneath the table came to rest on my upper thigh. "Forgive me. I didn't realize that by coming here I was inclined to keep my hands to myself. That curse I took back off of the boy has caused me terrible discomfort Tsuzuki-san. As per our agreement, you are to be in close proximity to me so that I am able to sate the desire to kill and inflict harm."

"You…. You never said… _anything _about-"

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. With you everything has to be so _particular._" Muraki sighed to let me know just what a nuisance I was. "Let me spell it out for you; my desire for you is as passionate and as brutal as I am in murder. I will not restrain myself from those urges, ultimately because I have no desire to starve myself of something I want and also because it allows the curse to run amuck throughout my body. I don't think you want that, do you Tsuzuki-san? This time… it really will be your fault, if I am unable to help myself…"

I wanted to kick him in the shin but somehow I knew that Muraki would find a way to counter that too. Watari was sneaking up to my side, his hand edging toward one of the silver forks lying near my elbow. Short of stabbing Muraki's real eye out with it, I didn't know what good that was going to do. Ultimately, as much as I hated to admit it, the doctor was right. He had done his part for Hisoka and now it was as though I had renounced my end of the bargain. Muraki might have hurt Watari if the other guardian revealed his presence. Trying to make it seem directed at the doctor, I muttered 'No' my eyes facing toward Watari. Then I looked up at Muraki.

"Muraki… you're right. I apologize for being a nuisance."

Watari's look was truly priceless. His hand retreated from the fork but he remained close by, in case Muraki continued his onslaught.

But the doctor had made his point. Now I had announced my surrender, the smile truly came to light on his face. The sinister edge was gone and his visible eye creased to follow the sideways slope of his head as he gazed adoringly at me. The hand on my leg appeared back atop the table and lifted my own entrapped fingers to his face. Closing his eyes, he guided the aching area between my thumb and index finger between his lips and gently sucked on it. My breath caught in my throat and I focused on controlling my breaths as they threatened to get heavy. Muraki's tongue lapped gently at the abused crease until the pain had all but subsided. My lack of sexual experience became apparent to me at least, as I felt a great flush of heat slide through my loins at this sensuous contact. All at once I wanted to shove him away in revulsion, whilst an equally loud part of me screamed for more. Watari pulled a face and respectfully made his exit, trotting back towards his seat across the room. Muraki, unaware of our invisible audience, distributed a small nip to the sensitive flesh before tracing his lips up my index finger. I watched as the long digit disappeared into his lips, sliding across the hot wet expanse of his tongue, the nail grazing the back of his throat as he took as much as possible in. His lips were now suctioned just above my knuckle and as he moved them up and down my finger, nursing it from within by his tongue, I became aware of the intended promise of this emblematic action.

A promise of sorts. Another invitation. '_Come play Asato Tsuzuki.' _His eyes were closed as he gripped my hand hard, licking my finger with little to no restraint. I felt my face go red as I glanced over and saw the bartender doing his best to ignore the situation. The sight of an esteemed doctor performing symbolic finger oral on the grungy male stranger must have ranked pretty high on his list of; 'Things-that-couldn't-possibly-be-more-fucked-up.' I knew that this should concern me; his opinion should have mattered. But Muraki was doing too god a job of distracting me. He knew how to work that divine mouth of his, how to play my strings to produce the tune that aspired him the most. His lips slowly slid off of the very tipped curve of my nail, though he did deposit one last kiss to my finger pad, locking his full lips around it before releasing the skin with a the wet, yet highly provocative sound a kiss makes. My entire being shuddered from spiritual form to physical. There was a foreign feeling between my legs, a feeling that did not belong in an establishment like this. I had the bare beginnings of an erection.

Amazingly enough I began to wonder if Muraki too had one. I couldn't forget that insistent feeling on my inside thigh the other night when he had pulled me against him, so he was not above letting that weakness show. Still, it was going to look slightly obvious if I got up and went around to the other side of the table. I clenched my fist as though closing around an inanimate object, my thoughts racing.

"You… seriously got off on that, didn't you?" I managed to pant vehemently as he distributed a small kiss to my knuckles. Muraki smiled.

"Yes, I did." He admitted, without the least bit of embarrassment. He kissed my hand once more and then a cunning smile flashing across his face. "Maybe you need proof of that too, hmm? You don't seem to trust my words all that well, Tsuzuki-san."

I snatched my hand away, blushing. "I'll take your word for it this time!" I garbled.

Muraki merely chuckled and I cast a quick sort of 'Help me!' expression at Watari. He was staring out the window to his left, a distant faraway look on his face. Great. He was off in Kyoto with his Konsai accent, shrimp poh-tatoes and swordsman pimps. There was no hope for me now.

Unless of course I got sick enough that I threw up on Muraki and completely turned him off…

That was it! Time to do what I do best! Get drunk!

I took a sip of my drink and felt the burgeoning warmth of the wine spread through me. This plan was foolproof, as long as I got sick before I got to the amorous stage where I'd be willing to let Muraki take me over the table. I pretty much felt that way about everyone after a few drunks. More than once Watari and I had established that we were soul mates and we were going to run away to Osaka to live happily ever after. Fortunately, his good sense of humor meant that he was able to put these embarrassing incidents behind him without any weird feelings between us. Even the time we'd tried kissing to see if there was any chemistry between us. Unfortunately, there's plenty of chemistry when you're pickled and in a frightening turn of events we'd almost ended up making love. We'd been like two teenagers fumbling around in the basement of their parents' house, trying to figure out where everything was and give one another a free education in the process. That was in the earliest days of his employment however, when we were both going through some rough stages. Since then we've patched things up but it got pretty uncomfortable there for a while.

That's why I had to be careful. It was spew or die. Well, to be accurate, spew or be screwed. I took a hearty gulp of my wine and glanced back at Watari. He was yawning silently and checking his watch. The poor guy had to be up at the crack of dawn to journey to Kyoto yet he'd still agreed to come here to help me out. I suppose I'm pretty lucky to have friends like that.

Muraki sipped his drink and ran a finger around the rim of the glass once, provoking all sorts of images in my head again. The glass sang at his touch but of course when I tried to do it, no noise was heard at all. Muraki nearly laughed. I could tell because the corner of his lips twitched.

"You're a delightful creature to observe, Tsuzuki-san." He cooed reaching out to cup my chin. This sudden intimacy he had with my face was becoming something of a bad habit of his. "As lovely as it is to see your displays of power, what is even more adorable is when you fail. That determined expression… your beautiful eyes dancing and spilling tears from the corner. Compelling my darling… simply put; breathtaking. I feel almost inclined to drag you into the restroom and take you against the wall."

Hoo boy. I took another belt from my drink. "Uh… probably not the best idea. I have a bad back."

Muraki looked delighted with my comeback. His smile grew wider. "I'm tempted to ask what from, Tsuzuki-san. But I'm sure it would serve only make me jealous."

Shit. Was there _anything _that this guy couldn't turn into something sexual?! I got the feeling I had a greater hope of discovering the meaning of life, than looking for one thing that wouldn't turn Muraki on. I'm sure a shrimp potato would have turned him on under the right circumstances.

Muraki was staring at me very intently, the one eye I could only ever see boring holes directly into the pupil of my own. I was feeling somewhat uncomfortable even more so when his other hand cupped the crown of my head, stroking my hair gently. He wasn't wearing gloves that night, so there was nothing separating us. All contact was purely skin to skin and that much more intimate because of it. By removing his gloves, it was almost as if Muraki was saying he was ready to accept and be accepted completely, with no more thinly veiled lies and half truths between us. At least, that's how I saw it. I may be reading too deeply into things as per usual.

The silence was excruciating. I tried to break the tension by suddenly blowing the hair on his face astray, exposing his fake eye momentarily. Muraki was unperturbed by this disruption and had moved the hand on my chin onto the swell of my cheek and started stroking it. I couldn't understand what he saw in me. A man, who utterly despised weakness, was obsessed with a weak creature like me. He told me once that love and adoration was nothing more than a by-product of one's infatuation. An illusion. Yet he told me unashamedly that he was in love with me, calling me his beloved. His loved one.

A contradiction. Hypocrisy. There truly was little difference between us. I'd just become better at hiding it than he had. Partly because I wanted to and he did not.

Which one of us was the liar? Which one of us was truly the hypocrite? The one who accepted beyond all morality or the one who refused to accept because he wanted to be accepted so badly?

I guess that was the question that I truly wanted answering. That would allow me to continue my existence in peace, if I could finally lay to rest my doubts.

"Would you like to order an entrée, Tsuzuki-san?" Muraki finally asked. It was a relief to hear him speak, even though his voice had always been a little odd. I was so uncomfortable that a demon attack would have been more than welcome at this point. My finger was still shining with Muraki's saliva.

"Yeah…" I said. "I'd like to get something to eat."

**XxXxXxXxXx**

When the bill came it was all I could do not to collapse in my chair. Muraki had spent more on my appetizer's alone than I spent on sweet food in a week. The mean side of me was content to let him empty the dregs of his wallet on my account but I was in for a shock if I thought Muraki's supply of money was likely to run out at some point. At company dinners the arrival of the bill was usually heralded by a groan of despair or in Tatsumi's case a trip to the manager to launch a verbal complaint. Loudly. I was used to seeing men fall apart at the seams over their pricy dinner bill but not Muraki. He seemed perfectly content to yield to my requests for all the foreign food I could jam into my mouth at one time. I went for the most pricy and expensive things on the list, in hopes it would dissuade Muraki after he witnessed what a big spender I was. It was the Greek-style prawn salad and fish, mushroom and noodle soup for the entrée, followed by the Tagliatelle Carbonara and Honey chicken. Just when I thought I was done with the main course, I saw something else I wanted and peeped at Muraki like a baby bird until he ordered it for me. After I'd shoveled down a large plate of noodles with pork and vegetables and pasta with mushrooms and Cabanossi, the desert menu was somewhat tentatively placed before me for my inspection.

If it wasn't an ugly sight by that point, then it certainly became one in the minutes following.

The sociopath doctor was cowering in his seat as the dessert dishes were presented before me one by one. Three pieces of apple pie, chocolate cinnamon kisses, chocolate trifle, peach cobbler with custard, boysenberry soufflé, Norwegian egg cream, Apricot and Cointreau Cheesecake and last but not least some Chocolate Pistachio Cake with Pistachio Crème Anglaise. At the outset of each course, Muraki insisted on purchasing a new bottle of wine that complimented the food I was eating. This was nice, pricy as it was, but the prick completely foiled my plan to get quietly drunk and vomit on his shoes by removing the previous bottles of wine even before I'd finished one glass of them. I would have fumed at him but I was too busy enjoying my dinner to concern myself with complaining.

Enjoying the food I mean. The company could have been better. But I suppose alternative company such as Tatsumi, Hisoka or Watari would have meant less food for me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been able to make such a pig of myself and not worry about the consequences later on.

Somehow this thought brought me back to reality and I began to wonder exactly what price Muraki might ask of me in return for his generosity. My mouth was full and I still had a half a plate left of my Chocolate Pistachio cake when I realized my gluttony was the perfect excuse for Muraki to bargain with me later. I looked over at him and he smiled at me, his own small serving of Viennese Cake untouched.

Shit. I'd suddenly lost my appetite. I placed the fork down, swallowing the food in my mouth and realizing it was too late to regurgitate his advantage over me. Muraki's smile grew wider but it was moderate expression, as though he were fondly amused by my savage attentions to food.

"Have you had enough yet, Tsuzuki-san?"

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and I took a heady sip of my wine. It was some sickly sweet desert blend, more tangy than it was fruity. Not exactly my style of beverage. I preferred dry wines to sweet, despite my affinity for saccharine produce.

"If I ate anymore I would undoubtedly burst." I reported, patting my swollen belly as verification. It was looking suitably Buddha like and I wondered if I rubbed it I might get good luck. I needed as much as I could scrape together especially on a night like this.

If Muraki was relieved at my surrender he did a good job of hiding it. During the course of the dinner he'd only ordered the Whiting Turbons as an entrée, sirloin steak with Dijonnaise sauce for the main meal and the so far unattended sweet by his right elbow. Watari unsurprisingly had gotten so bored just sitting around contemplating his bellybutton that he had taken to hovering over the table whilst we were eating. It was kind of distracting, not to mention risky especially at one point when he'd been levitating just behind Muraki and some of his long blonde hair had rolled off his shoulder and nearly swept along the doctors neck. I'd made a discreet time hearted gesture of disapproval which Muraki took personally but was able to get Watari to behave himself at least moderately. He'd spent the remainder of the meal hovering behind _my _shoulder, salivating down _my _neck. I'd told him to eat before coming out tonight, so I can't see why this was so torturous for him.

Muraki beamed pleasantly and took a sip of his own wine. "How charming you are Tsuzuki-san. I'm so pleased that you were open to my philanthropy tonight. There is truly no price I would be unwilling to pay if only it meant I could watch you indulge in my presence. To let your guard down."

Watari faked a big yawn to my right and pretended to stick his finger down his throat. I was tempted to throw the remainder of my dessert at him but that would have just led to some objectionable circumstances. And that was just Watari having a fit over his clothes. I didn't even want to imagine how Muraki would react.

I gestured at the Viennese Cake near the doctors' elbow. "You gonna eat that?"

He immediately picked it up and held it out to me. "Would you like it?"

"No, no!" I quickly waved my hands in assurance. "I don't want it for myself, I'm stuffed! I just wondered why you ordered it, if you weren't planning on eating it. Is money really no object to you?"

Muraki smiled congenially and placed both hands around his wine glass, watching the liquid lap against the sides with unwavering scrutiny.

"Well," he said. "I was planning on eating it, but then I remembered what you said to me last night." His eyes bore into my own, the movement of his head so sudden I jerked visibly in my seat. "Unlike a Shinigami, Tsuzuki-san, if I were to indulge quite so readily as you, my body would fail to maintain its' agreeable build. I wouldn't want to get any fatter now, would I?"

Oh so he was still sore about _that _was he? I felt my brows pulled into gravity over my eyes, giving the amethyst orbs the dark look I was not renowned for. Whilst we were eating, we'd barely spoken and Muraki had done well to keep his hands to himself. But now his hands and my mouth were free and it was time I charged in with some questions and throw the first punch. In a manner of speaking.

"Come off it, Muraki. I know you're not actually concerned with your weight." I snapped, pressing both my hands down on the table surface, leaning my body forward to seem more imposing. A tactic that never seemed to work with Muraki. Whether I was standing up or leaning forward, the height or proximity never seemed to concern the passive doctor in the slightest. He was far too self assured in his own remarkable capabilities. Following Kyoto I thought he would at least have been slightly inclined to respect me but no. He was still as confident as ever. "I want to know what your aim is this time. No more innocents are to die at your hands again, do you hear me? I won't allow it!"

"Well… then we are in agreement." The platinum haired man said tipping the wine glass back and draining the golden liquid in one fluid swallow. His Adam's apple barely moved in evidence of the action. "You came here because I asked you, Tsuzuki-san. But for once you did so not because I had you at a disadvantage, but because I extended a small offering in proof of my intentions. As such, I have seen a remarkable change in our interaction already. You contentedly drink and eat in my presence, without concerning yourself with the people I involve in order to court you. I am pleased at this modification. I trust that you too are pleased that the boy is no longer troubled by my curse? Hmm?"

I didn't answer him. I simply folded my hands atop the bridge of my nose and glared out over the ridges the joints formed.

Muraki studied me from behind his delicate wire framed glasses. He reached out and ran his hand up the side of my face, trailing his knuckles across the tiny vein in my temple. "The process is already in motion, Tsuzuki-san. We now have an arrangement that we can both benefit from. One hand washes the other, as they say. In exchange for my good behavior in sparing the lives of those precious humans you hold so dear, you will come to me when I ask of you. Your conscience and your responsibility will not weigh you down quite so heavily and I will be spared the torment of the curses castigation. What say you? Is it not a suitable agreement?"

From out of the corner of my eye I tried to catch Watari's expression. He was watching the doctor with a thoughtful and non-judgmental expression, hands wedged deep into his coat pockets. He saw me looking and shrugged.

Muraki closed his eyes. "Tsuzuki-san… please do me the courtesy of making this decision on your own without consulting your irksome friend."

Watari came crashing to the floor. Muraki's expression didn't change a jot as the blond became visible and his ruffled head appeared beside the table.

"You've known I was here the whole time?!" He squawked. Muraki pulled off his glasses and started to clean them as he nodded. "How?!"

"Well for one, you are a considerably loud mouth breather. I could hear you when you were hovering behind my shoulder." The doctor informed us as Watari shuffled to my side and hid behind my chair. "Also, I can see into Four Fields of Sixth Sense Penetration. When I checked the room for any evidence of spiritual interference, what do I see but some blond haired irritant playing guardian to the Guardian of Death."

Watari straightened up, attempting to look as bold as possible. I could see he was still shaken by being caught out but he was doing his best to remedy the situation before resorting to the fireman's lift in order to remove me from impending danger.

"Well I'm sorry, _doctor_," He said more tartly than I think he intended. "But if you expected me to let Tsuzuki come here on his own to see the man who was willing to use him in a genetic clone experiment, than you're clearly not as bright as I took you to be! What do you take us Shinigami for anyway? We're not nearly so sloppy as _you_, sir."

My hand closed around the fuda in my right pocket as I awaited Muraki's reaction. Clearly he was not going to like that Watari had turned up at all, never mind the way he had just spoken to him. My body tensed and I prepared myself for the impending fight. Watari's posture beside me was extremely tense, his body language signaling his preparation for defensive survival rather than outright offense. I did notice however that his fingers had closed around one of the serviettes on the table. I had no idea how he thought a serviette was going to help, unless of course Muraki was knocked for six by origami.

The white haired doctor relaxed back into his seat and raised a hand in the air. My muscles flexed as he snapped his fingers and before I knew it, I was out of my seat and hurdling the table. My mind wasn't working at normal speed and the only purpose I could think of to prevent the summoning was to sink my teeth into the fleshy part of his hand. Which I did.

Muraki stared up at me incredulously.

"I was going to ask that the bartender… bring us another glass…" He said slowly, raising an eyebrow at the slight trickle of blood that began to run down his wrist. I was holding onto his arm with both hands, my teeth piercing the flesh of his palm in lockjaw. "Tell me… Watari-san, is it not? Are you partial to Viennese Cake?"

**~ EC ~**

**Next Chapter: **Okay, that's the new chapter five done! Hope you liked the tidy up, kindly readers. By all means, proceed on to chapter six for the revamped return to Muraki's haunted house! See ya there!


	6. Muraki: Inutterable Disonance

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Yami no Matsuei owns me. Not the other way around.

**Note: **This chapter is from Muraki's POV! (I don't know why I feel the need to keep telling everyone that. They can read Hickok. See, Muraki's name is right down there you don't need to tell them up here!) I did actually intend for this to be a short chapter but being in the pervy pricks shoes was just too fun and it actually ended up longer than expected!

I've just given this chapter a general tidy up, added the song and the quote and all that but no major scenes have been added. A new chapter will be slotted into place following this one though but that still needs a little fine tweaking… I hope everyone will be patient with me and maybe enjoy just looking over this chapter one more time! Come on; you know you love being in Muraki's crazy ass shoes as much as I do!

**Inutterable Disonance**

_Breathe in, breathe out_

_Tell me all of your doubt_

_And everybody bleeds this way_

_Just the same_

_Breathe in, breathe out_

_Move on and break down_

_If everyone goes away_

_I would stay_

_We push and pull_

_And I fall down sometimes_

_And I'm not letting go_

_You hold the other line_

_'Cause there is a light_

_In your eyes, in your eyes_

_Hold on and hold tight_

_From out of your sight_

_And everything keeps movin' on, movin' on_

_Hold on, hold tight_

_Make it through another night_

_And everyday, there comes a song with the dawn_

_We push and pull_

_And I fall down sometimes_

_I'm not letting go_

_You hold the other line_

_'Cause there is a light_

_In your eyes, in your eyes_

_There is a light_

_In your eyes, in your eyes_

_Breathe in and breathe out_

_Breathe in and breathe out_

_Breathe in and breathe out_

_Breathe in and breathe out_

_Look left, look right_

_To the moon in the night_

_And everything under the stars_

_Is in your arms_

_'Cause there is a light_

_In your eyes, in your eyes_

_And there is a lie_

_In your eyes, in your eyes_

_There is a light_

_In your eyes, in your eyes_

_There is a light_

_In your eyes, in your eyes_

_**~ Breathe in, breathe out ~** __Mat Kearney_

_X_

**"**_There are so many little dyings that it doesn't matter which of them is death**."** ~ __**Kenneth Patchen**_

**Muraki**

Tsuzuki-san glanced backward toward the other Shinigami and then leant in close to whisper in my ear.

"You're not angry?"

I looked down at him, pretending to marvel at being asked such a question. Of course I was not nearly that ignorant.

"No. Should I be? I don't expect you to trust my words alone, Tsuzuki-san. As long as you are comfortable, I do not mind him being here at all."

The truth of course, is that I did mind the other Shinigami's presence immensely. Not for who he was, you understand. For al intents and purposes, this Watari-san seemed a perfectly agreeable nuisance. He remained open minded about the whole arrangement and even chatted heartily over the Veinnese Cake and wine I had offered him, easing the former tension between Tsuzuki-san and myself ever so slightly. Following dinner, I had invited the dark haired beauty to take a walk with me through the streets of Tokyo, where I would inauspiciously attempt to lead him in the direction of my home which was located not too far from the restaurant. I had chosen the establishment specifically for its preferred location and proximity to the mansion in which I lived. I was certain Tsuzuki-san would have blatantly refused to get into a car with me, as it was some indication of my intent to take him onward to a destined location. By walking, the arrival at my home could almost seem accidental.

Though any plans I'd had at consummating my established arrangement with Tsuzuki-san would have to be put on hold, now that the illustrious Yutaka Watari had joined us. Ah, the indisputable third wheel. Still, I had to be thankful for the choice of back up Tsuzuki-san had chosen for himself that night. The secretary Tatsumi-san or the irritating boy would have never dared give credence to allowing the night to proceed as it did. Tsuzuki-san had obviously chosen Watari-san because he was less personally compromised on the matter. He was able to remain somewhat more impartial than the other two guardians.

The old Kazutaka Muraki would have solved such impertinences by simply removing the problem. I did not know what powers Watari-san wielded but from what I was able to sense in the Four Fields of Penetration I had access to, they were fairly passive and for the most part restrained. Unlike Tsuzuki-san's powers, which circulated inside of him like explosive nitrate, ready to erupt at the slightest waver in self-control. But killing the blond haired man this early on would only have injured my plans with Tsuzuki-san.

I needed to have the ebony haired man trust me. That would make it easier to eventually take him as my partner. I could not kill anymore, not if I hoped to obtain the Shinigami as a willing mate. Raping him, I knew, would not sate my hunger for him. Not like it would to have him beneath me, wanting me, calling my name and seeing me alone in those fleeting passionate moments. That was true power. True dominance. To have him submit willingly. To eventually take him, only to reveal later that once I had obtained that which I had been craving, I would be free of everything that made me weak.

Breaking him with his own guilty yearning for me was the only true way I would ever be free of him.

_Him… _both _of them._

I had to be patient. There was no point in losing control of my emotions now, such as I had in Kyoto. That had been my own fault. I'd been content to lose myself in the shadows of insanity that had flickered at the corners of my mind like a candle flame in a dark room. The pleasure of finally exacting my long awaited revenge had turned me into something that spun out of even _my _control. A madman is someone who cannot contest their own actions. My entire life I have rested easy at least with the confirmation that I could be no mad man. I was something far, far worse.

I knew precisely what I had done with every life I took. I had been in control, my actions never frenzied nor rushed. Every death a perfect symphony of silver blade, precision and lingering fleeting glimpses of comprehension in the unwary victims face. Until Kyoto, I'd been able to keep my practice within the confines of my mental restrictions, owing nothing to the human emotion of instability which would have seen any other man slicing the flesh to shreds and stabbing many more times than was necessary. I was a murderer. But I was also a doctor. Death for my victims would have been relatively painless when it came to stabbing. I very rarely missed the main arteries or vital organs; unless I had some specific purpose to cause the person discomfort and then perhaps I would align the knife a little further atop the killing blow.

I would not think to call myself an assassin, regardless of how proficient I am in the art of killing. You'd be pressed to find someone more suited to ending lives with such ease and aptitude. Even knowing the pain it left behind, having my own family killed by Saki seventeen years ago; my plan for revenge justified everything I did. At least, in my own mind it did. I cared of no one's pain but my own. And honestly… I still do not care.

But I needed to be practical. Now was the time to exercise restraint if I hoped to win Tsuzuki-san over. If I was as clever as I took myself to be, then there should be no difficulties in ascertaining and enacting the suitable course of actions towards others that he would find appropriate. Now was the time for anticipation, imagining the world through the eyes of that innocent, naïve Shinigami I'd let myself fall for so mindlessly. To see myself as he saw me and to envision the ways in which I could reinvent myself to his liking.

One of the things that became clear was that I was unlikely to win favors by pushing his guardian accomplice into the path of an oncoming locomotive.

Besides, the blond had remained inoffensively respectful of his place in the situation. After a brief discussion at the door, in which I was forced to remind Tsuzuki-san of our little 'tit-for-tat' principle, we'd set off into the night, his arm linked through mine and our contrary colored trench coats lashing in the wind behind is. Watari-san had followed at a walk, a good affirmable distance behind us, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of an extravagant looking coat. He didn't converse with us, unless he was invited to do so and seemed to be lost in his own thoughts anyway. This arrangement had suited me thus far and I was inclined to permit his continued company without contest if he were to remain as impartial to the evenings proceedings as he had so far demonstrated.

I lowered my mouth close to Tsuzuki-san's ear, assuring that my lips touched the shell as I spoke. The reaction was obvious in the distributed shivers that run through his body, owing nothing I imagined, to the cold wind sliding past us.

"Just how often can I expect this… Watari-san to be joining us on our outings?" I asked, pulling the other man up sharply before an intersection. Distracted as he was, he would have walked directly into the traffic.

Tsuzuki-san's brows were firm set over his eyes, the childlike illustration of his perpetual innocence. I never tire of that expression.

"All I can say is, you'd better get used to him." The brunette sniffed, glancing up the road at the oncoming car headlights. I heard Watari stop behind us, his shoes scuffing the ground impatiently.

"Well…" I turned to look at the blond man, whom I observed, was standing pointedly closer to Tsuzuki than he was to me. "You won't have to get too used to me. I have an impending murder case in Kyoto starting tomorrow but you can be damn sure I'll be keeping an eye on you just as soon as I get back!"

I ignored the finger he had pointed at me, distracted by what he had just said. From what I knew, Kyoto was a fairly quiet district on the Judgment Bureau's list, unless I happened to be in town that was. Tsuzuki seemed to cotton onto this at that very moment and turned to look at me, his expression dark.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that now, would you doctor?"

I smiled and stuck my nose in the air. "Tsuzuki-san… owing to my fondness of you, I will choose to ignore the blatant inanity of that insolent question."

Rather than get darker, Tsuzuki-san's face now flushed and thin lines branched across the skin bellow his eyes to show that he was not pleased by my response. A common problem between us. We seemed to have problems communicating on some levels, a quandary easily rectified by bypassing conversation completely and letting our bodies do the talking but I failed to properly divulge this logic to the dear guardian. Whilst that man could spout morality from his lips like a pez dispenser he would never use them to his greater advantage. A shame but something I was willing to disclose some effort over.

"I don't see what makes it so stupid or insolent, Muraki." Tsuzuki snarled, his arm going rigid against the side of my body. "Considering that it was your best friend who asked us to come investigate."

This was certainly news to me. I hadn't spoken to Oriya since that last night in Kyoto, so I was somewhat out of the loop in regards to the happenings at the Kokakuro. I made a mental note to enquire into his reasoning for summoning the aid of the Shinigami, especially when one considered how fanatical the man was about his privacy and locked my eye on Tsuzuki.

"Well, there you have it." I imparted. "Oriya Mibu is my oldest and closest friend. His loyalty to me goes above and beyond the call of duty. If I had committed those murders he would have surely swept them under the carpet as he has done time and time again." I let those words hang in the air for a moment, quite aware of how sinuous they were, before continuing. "If I had killed anyone in Kyoto, Oriya would not have bothered to call you in to inspect it. Such is his nobility; he would not have endangered me willingly. Therefore, do you not think it's safe to assume that perhaps there is someone else in Japan capable of murder besides myself? I _know _it's a stretch but…"

Tsuzuki waved a hand. "Okay, I see your point."

The blond haired man was smiling softly. "I must say doctor… you are certainly fortunate to have a friend like that willing to stand by you. Most people wouldn't have the decorum to maintain ties with a cold hearted murderer like yourself."

I laughed softly and flashed him a smile. "I admire your nerve, Watari-san. Yes Oriya has always been an… unusual friend. His _decorum_, as you so tastefully put it, is something to be marveled at."

The lights changed. We crossed the road.

Watari trotted up to my side. "Yet you exploit that. You take advantage of it, like you did in Kyoto hoping to buy yourself some time."

What was I supposed to say to that? I tilted my head in order to expose my fake right eye, fully intending to intimidate the other man in doing so.

"Watari-san, I do hate to be blunt; but my relationship with Oriya Mibu is of no concern to you." I said coldly. I could tell from his hardening facial expression that he meant to protest but Tsuzuki-san made a soft dictation with his head and the other man slowly backed off, trailing a good few feet behind us again.

I leaned close to my companion.

"He has a lot to say for himself, that one." I said. "Tell him to be careful. I've eaten men like him for breakfast."

Tsuzuki's face turned to something like irony and he chuckled a little. "That does not surprise me." He said quietly. "That does not surprise me at all."

The lights and sounds of the city were becoming few and far between. I raised my head, spying the apex of the mansion emerging above the darkness like a search beacon. Wouldn't be too long now…

Unfortunately I had not calculated on Tsuzuki recognizing the streets surrounding the mansion. The previous night he had left in such a state after hearing of my resident ghost, I naturally assumed that he would pay little to no attention to his environment. I'd known that the man was fearful of specters, being born around the Meiji era which was a typically supernatural period of history. Or, to be specific, the time in which the paranormal was looked upon with verifiable trepidation and fear. Yet, I had failed to accommodate the extremity of his paranoia, which was personified the moment he laid eyes on the mansion.

"Oh… _Hell no._"

"Whatever's the matter Tsuzuki-san? Why, your body has gone as stiff as the branches of a willow tree." I remarked, stepping up behind him and gripping his upper arms in my hands. I lowered my mouth to whisper in his ear, making sure he knew full well my implied intent. "Why not let me work some of that tension out?"

The brunette struggled in my hold, an expression of mild panic materializing on his face. "Going into _any _house with you would be bad for my health, let alone a haunted one! Let go of me! I'm going home!"

"Now… what kind of host would I be if I sent you out into the night without at least offering the amenities of hospitality?" He wriggled dishearteningly in my grasp and I solved the issue by pulling him toward me, tilting his center of balance ever so slightly. It was just enough for me to seize control and by using the mass of my body as an advantage, I was able to twist about and thrust him against the surrounding wall, pinning his arms behind his back and jamming my right leg between his thighs. He grunted in dissent.

"Oh do relax Tsuzuki-san. I wouldn't want you to develop an aneurysm right here in the middle of the street. What would the neighbours make of that?" I murmured, arching my back objectively. The angle of my spine aspired to raise my hips against the pert buttocks of the other man, leaving nothing for him to misconstrue. Tsuzuki made a sound that was difficult to interpret. It was an insipid concoction of fervor and duplicate extended loathing, directed at both himself and I. I chuckled at his reaction, amused at his incapability to decipher his own physical yearnings from the guilt he perpetually exacted upon himself, as though it were some form of retribution for having human urges. It was pathetic. A child could have figured out how to manipulate one's own body against them. As he continued to struggle, I knelt my head slightly in order to capture the lobe of his ear between my lips. I languorously pressed my tongue against the erroneous flesh, before sliding my lips away making sure it made a noise. Proof of my desire. Proof of how he made me want him.

"Now then… you can be sure, I won't allow the terrible specter near you tonight, Tsuzuki-san…" I hissed to his stunned and stilled body. "You can rest assured that I am the most frightening thing in Tokyo tonight. The wraith doesn't dare encroach on me… most spiritual entities are wary to afford me plenty of breathing space." My hand trailed off of his pinned wrists and I used my long nails to gently brush the skin of his cheek. It would have been so easy to draw a single drop of blood but I restrained myself. "So… why not come in and have a drink with me? We didn't have much opportunity to talk over dinner and I think there are many things to discuss."

Whatever Tsuzuki's response had been to my offer was suddenly cut off by something white obscuring my vision. I barely had time to utter a confused nuance before the fluttery object had attached itself to my face. I released my hold on Tsuzuki to bring both hands up and tear at the overly affectionate article. My prize ducked away from me the instant my grip loosened.

"What the-?!" I pulled the white object off and examined it as it continued to flutter in my hand like a doomed bird. It was a serviette from the restaurant, the gold logo shining in the neighboring streetlight. I blinked at it obscurely for a moment before turning my attention back to Tsuzuki-san. He was standing behind the blond haired guardian, whose right hand was extended outwards palm up. I'd almost forgotten about him. Watari-san made a sudden darting gesture with his fingers and the serviette jumped out of my hand and reattached itself to my face. I ripped it off and threw it to the ground, where I proceeded to restrain it forcefully beneath my heel.

"What a typically bothersome and puerile power!" I snapped, not bothering to hide my irritation. Being stabbed was acceptable; vexed by the secretary's shadows reasonable, but being outsmarted by a napkin was just plain humiliating. "Watari-san; forgive me for being so blunt, but you are truly incommodious to a fault!"

The two men blinked at me.

"I'm not quite sure what he just said to me, but I am assuming that it was not flattering…" The blond remarked, scratching his head. He snapped his fingers and the serviette thankfully composed itself. "Muraki, I would not mind escorting Tsuzuki in to have a drink with you, but I must insist that you keep your Roman Hand syndrome and Russian fingers under control or else you will find that inanimate objects are going to form deep and emotional attachments to you. Some might even make an unlawful entry, if you catch my meaning?"

I couldn't say that it was as threatening as a shadow tsunami threatening to slice me into shreds. Even the tone in which the man had spoken failed to encompass anything other than his tireless cheerful façade. Regardless, I realized that it would simply be easier if I agreed to behave myself at least for the time being. It would certainly be a relief when the blond haired headache was rushed off to Kyoto however. Tsuzuki had a trademark difficulty of refuting my advancements, even with his Shinigami abilities and the aid of his Summons. Without the blond, it shouldn't take altogether too long to get him to fall into my hands.

If only I had some way of ensuring Watari-san would prolong his stay in Kyoto. Short of rushing on up there and dealing out a few corpses, that is.

The answer came to me whilst the three of us had seated ourselves in the main Living Room, drinking red wine, a favorite blend of mine from 1992. I watched Tsuzuki-san's reaction to the beverage religiously, noting every tiny detail of his mannerisms as though he were a specimen under my unwavering observation.

He was undoubtedly flawless in physical appearance. To regular human beings, unaware of the effects demonic genes cause when interbred amongst human DNA, he was marked by subtle aspects that made his appearance seem exotic; in an understated way. His purple eyes of course, were the major distinguishing trait of his demon heritage but there were other more discreet differences that I, as a physician, was able to discern. The curves of his lips were sharply sculpted, as though they were clay deftly tuned by the very tip of a knife. His bottom lip was slightly larger than his upper lip; which lent to me the very idealistic nature suited to the life Tsuzuki had chosen in his death. A thin, easily penetrable layer, defined by the stream of consciousness that eternally runs beneath all perception he entertains about who he is. A thin upper lip symbolized the charade of his human mockery; the lie he had been unable to present to the world and was instead turned to scorn. The larger lower lip, revealed his true self. Inescapable. The structure of ones jaw shows that the lower lip moves whilst the upper maintains for supportive purposes alone. Never changing, whilst the lower does change but must remain submissive to that which continually presses down upon it. As Tsuzuki was. The contradiction, the lie, the fake unexplainable mockery that shaped even his face to the suited nature of the being itself. I amused myself with these philosophical thoughts as I watched the wine wash across those soft inviting lips, as alluring to me as the blood of a thousand victims. Tiny droplets clung to the tinted pink skin and I had to forcefully forbid myself from taking advantage of the moment and removing the dark red droplets with my own lips.

Tsuzuki seemed hesitant to relax in my presence, but once he realized that he was going nowhere, he consented to resting back into the comfortable armchair across from me, the mauve fabric highlighted from the sides by the glow of the fire. It was a delicious imagery; utterly crafted to compliment the symmetry of the Shinigami's body. His intense amethyst eyes contained for the barest of moments the captured image of the dancing flames, presentable proof of the burning turmoil of his soul. Firelight to violet was undeniably becoming. And for moments at a time, those uncertain eyes would rake me, their vivid deep richness comparable to the blood of the plum.

He had an endearing arch of a nose, rather a cute snub or ski-slope than the virtually Roman nose I possessed. And at this moment I became grateful for Watari-sans presence because Tsuzuki-san seemed particularly entertained by the blonds piquant wit. It was the only chance I'd had since our meeting in Nagasaki, where I was able to see Tsuzuki smile in my presence. When he did, his entire face seemed to lift to match the corners of his mouth, a perfect curve that enticed the rest of his expression to follow suit. His eyes would raise, his cheeks would become fuller and the overall effect was one that was essentially relaxing. Ironic, because under normal circumstances, anyone making my Tsuzuki smile like that would have found themselves in a world full of disagreement. But I was not concerned that night. Despite their fond acquaintance, which suggested ease of informality outside of the Judgment Bureau, I did not feel threatened by the possibility of an intimate relationship between the pair.

Do not get me wrong. It wasn't that Yutaka Watari was not an attractive man. He was. Though it was in a markedly… _alternative _way, I suppose is the only way to put it. He was fair skinned and honey-eyed, possessing of foreign blood no doubt and with an appearance that suggested he had died in his mid to late twenties. Not as far back as Tsuzuki's time of death though; I wagered fifties to late seventies. He had long shapely legs, longer than Tsuzuki-sans even, an agreeable mouth formed into unremitting cheerfulness by the structure of his lips and a waspy waistline, that he certainly flattered by the cut of his colorful clothing. Moreover, I got the impression that though a fresher guardian than Tsuzuki, Watari-san was far more attuned to the circumstances of human nature and worldly matters. His face, though cheerful, was not the deluded perky happiness of one who is oblivious to everything around them. Rather, his honey-brown eyes were unrelentingly intelligent. His positive nature stemmed from his casual adjustment to bad circumstances. There was nothing naïve about him at all, not like Tsuzuki-san, whose pledge to continually help those that berated him was driven by his lack of association with large, diverse groups of them. Observing this Yutaka Watari, I got the impression that he associated well with people because there was no part of him that doubted or feared the reaction of those around him. He'd probably come to accept his own death just as easily. And at the same time, his appearance, whilst not on the same foreign level as Tsuzuki's, looked appealing in that he took responsibility for his faults. A body that was not quite sharpened, possibly due to lack of physical activity was flaunted regardless. Lovely colored eyes were sadly hidden behind glasses a margin wide in diameter. He had a plain and complacent expression until he smiled, which was a common occurrence without the least bit of prompting. His wavy blonde hair was beautiful and he possessed a confident, yet sincere disposition. His smile and mischievous nature made Watari-san easily accessible and approachable. Even more so than Tsuzuki-san, whose dark clothes and unremitting sense of guilt, made him seem distant and unreachable. Plus, his unspoiled picture perfection was likely to make him seem that much more intimidating. They were certainly a mis-matched pair, comparable by a shared silly sense of humor. Watari's simple non-judgmental outlook on things obviously made Tsuzuki relax, even in the presence of someone he feared like me. So, the blond wasn't _completely _useless. What's more, he was kind enough to refuse a glass of wine from me. Not to be rude, but because as he put it; '_He was just the chauffeur.' _Meaning he did not intend to invite himself into the moment I was trying to ignite between Tsuzuki-san and I. Though I did have to endure until now cooperative pieces of my own furniture, suddenly springing to life whenever I encroached upon Tsuzuki's ten feet of personal space and proceeding to bar block and bludgeon me until I sat down back in my chair like a good boy. It was irritating. Watari was purposefully taking advantage of my vow of 'righteousness' and was making sure I kept my hands where he could see them. It was quite a quandary.

After about thirty minutes, I thought I was getting a break from it all. Watari had grown bored with monitoring me and had taken to studying some of the photo's lining my hearth above the fire. Once his back was turned I gently and slowly, got to my feet and moved over to sit on the couch directly opposite the fire. I removed my glasses and set them down on the coffee tables glass surface, leaning back against the soft cushions and ruffling my silver hair a little. With a sigh, I glanced over at Tsuzuki, clutching the stem of his wine glass and peering into the empty interior with an adorably forlorn expression on his face. I'd been careful to prevent the guardian from drinking too much tonight, insistent that his senses not be dulled in the slightest whilst he was in my company. Alcohol was a potent inhibitor, something desirable in the longing for simple sexual gratification that can easily be forgotten about the next day. Any time I spent with my beloved I wanted him to clearly remember. My memory would stain him as effectively as Saki had stained me. That was the price my Tsuzuki would pay for what he had cost me in Kyoto. The pain as he stabbed me, the desire for him that overwhelmed the searing agony from the blades piercing obtrusion, my revenge I had sought after for seventeen years. …No… for my entire life. All gone because I had hesitated. I had left the knife at his side in what I can only aspire to my own failing sense of sanity at the time, an act that must have reflected the inner restrictions I had cast about my body. As Saki had cast his spell upon me, just as easily Tsuzuki had drawn me in and now he would pay for making me desire him like this. For allowing my passion to eat away at everything I had worked for, everything I thought I had control over including myself.

I loved him. …Yes… I loved him. How despicable that I could love someone in the same foolish deluded way that the puppet Princess Tsubaki had felt for me. My own significant human frailty had gotten the better of me in the end. I'd allowed myself to be killed for all purposes by the creature I'd hoped to end it with. Now that I had nothing else, he would be punished by feeling the full curse that it was to be loved by a monster like Kazutaka Muraki! _That _is what you deserved Tsuzuki. _That _is what you get for tearing apart the man who tears apart the lives of others.

Which is why, I didn't want him to forget anything. He had to remember as I did. Saki didn't allow me the privilege of forgetting and if I were to perfect his technique even beyond his own expectations, I would do what he had been unable to. I would make Tsuzuki want me as dearly as I wanted him.

And I would make him remember because I had done nothing to him but this. It would be all his own. Something Tsuzuki and no one else could explain away by any inhibitor at work in his immortal body. Whatever was to occur between Tsuzuki and I would not be because I forced it, not because he was influenced by anything at all… but because he sincerely wanted me.

And _that _Saki is true power.

I watched Tsuzuki for a moment, a smile forming on my face at his disappointed expression. "Can you see the bottom of your glass?"

He glanced up at my voice and immediately warped his expression into something suitably disinterested. "Uh… yeah…" He confirmed, wobbling the glass between his fingers a little. I reached across the table and retrieved the bottle from where I had last set it. I held it up by the neck near my face, my smile persistent.

"Would you come and sit by me, Tsuzuki-san? You may have another glass if you would do me this one small pleasure."

I half expected him to place his glass down and announce that he'd had enough anyway, so I was pleasantly surprised when he instead got to his feet and with a tired sigh, came over to the couch and sat down very close to me. The surprise must have registered on my face because he grunted some sort of demure complaint and whipped the bottle out of my grasp, pouring another drink for himself.

"It's a good wine," He said as way of excuse. "Besides I know that you'll only blackmail me with some evenhanded bullshit about Hisoka and about how much you spent on me tonight and how I should be more accepting of your hospitality, yada yada yada… I figure spare me. I can put up with your blackmailing baloney just as long as I have another drink."

I wasn't offended in the slightest. Rather, it was an encouragement to see the unrelenting little Boy Scout finally get fed up with my constant sexual jibes and surrender to me, even if it was something so apparently insignificant. Between us, even the slightest act of consent from my beloved was a major achievement. Assured by this sudden change in character trait, I pushed my luck a little further and edged closer to him until the side of his thigh was aligned with my own. As I wrapped my arm securely around his waist and pressed him against my body, I slowly began to tug Tsuzuki's shirt out from the waist band of his pants and rub my palm in circles across the skin of his hip. Tsuzuki didn't say anything but I did notice that he filled his glass up a little more than necessary. He always seemed more self conscious when he was bereft of his befittingly gothic trench coat and now he also had his suit jacket removed, leaving his hard and toned body even more visible beneath the white shirt. When I too had relieved myself of my own over garments and done away with my tie, he'd grown even more uncomfortable than he had the previous night when I'd exposed myself to him. It was a little unexpected that he hadn't tried yet to worm his way out of my hands, especially since I was touching him in such a provocative way. I wanted to test him further, so I relinquished all hold's bar and shifted my weight dramatically, lifting Tsuzuki-sans slim body off of the couch for a moment and then sliding him over one of my knees. I pulled him toward me until his back was pressed to my chest, his body straddling my thigh. It was a delightful position, one that allowed evocative body friction for him whilst ensuring that I would be able to feel any alterations to his state of arousal. Currently, he was not stimulated at all but the pressure I had forced upon the area between his legs sent a shiver throughout his body and he uttered my name in a throaty voice, so seductive it would have made any of Oriya's girls slither out of their kimonos. I don't believe he intended for the sound to be taken that way but then again, my perception of things evocative and beautiful is not exactly usual.

"Shh…" I soothed in his ear, my arms wrapped tightly around his lower waist and my fingers tentatively stroking the sides of his stomach. "Didn't you say, 'As long as you had another drink?' I can see you have a drink in your hand now, Tsuzuki-san. That means you should be more than content to allow me to make myself as comfortable with you in this manner."

He didn't reply but took a thick sip from his drink, his beautiful eyes looking somewhat sad. I gave his waist a squeeze and then lent down to whisper in his ear, ceasing my usual teasing tone I took with the man. Now, I was sincerely curious. And the closest someone like me could come to feeling insecure.

"Is it really so terrible to be this close to me?" I asked in a breathy whisper. "All I would like is to hold you close this way. I would like it very much, Tsuzuki-san. And that is all for the time being."

Tsuzuki looked back at me from the corners of his eyes. His expression was not angry as I would have thought but rather still sad and pitiful. What I failed to understand immediately, what I later berated myself for, was not being able to correctly identify the address of that particular expression. In his own words, Tsuzuki had been feeling sympathy for me. Because of his own self-loathing he pitied anyone that could lust after him to the degree that I could.

"Things get too confusing when… when you're close to me and we… touch…" He said softly, keeping our conversation discreetly veiled from Watari, though he was still firmly focused on the mantelpiece. "I don't like being confused. I don't like my… body confusing me and I don't like being confused by the games you play with my mind. The way you play with people's lives. The only reason I'm even… allowing myself near you is because of Hisoka." At the mention of the brat's name I felt my face seize up in fury. I quickly vanquished it, not wanting Tsuzuki to have any inkling of lingering jealousy I had over their relationship. It would not help my situation here at all. "Muraki you've… you've killed so many people… how can I ever trust you? How?"

Here he met my eyes and I think we were both startled by the intensity we saw in each other. Ever so hesitantly, he lowered his hand to touch one of my own, twined around his waist.

"I think you are sincere about _this._ About your physical desire that is. Everything else… oh I don't know. I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know if I can even believe in myself!"

"There now," I said as I lifted up my hand to cup his feminine chin in my hand. I traced the beautiful shape with the middle crease of my fingers, gently scratching at his cheek with my pure white nails. "Do not concern yourself with thoughts like that, Tsuzuki-san. I would like your trust but for now, I am happy just as we are, _here._ In _this _moment. I would think you a fool if you would choose to trust me with the only shred of proof I have offered you."

"Muraki…"

"You just wait, beloved." My voice lowered even further, my lips touching his ear at every syllable. "I will give you a reason to trust me one day. No matter how long it takes. And you know how relentless I am, with the things I want."

"Sadly… that's true…" Tsuzuki even chuckled at this but the humor in his voice faded a little as I lowered my teeth to the side of his neck, littering the soft indent of skin where the shoulder met the muscle with velvety kisses. His skin smelt of all the deserts he'd put away at dinner, though he tasted typically like salt from sweat. I was a little disappointed that he had not put on cologne that night especially considering all the effort I went to, but I suppose I should have been thankful for his presence alone. I felt the curse clutch at my breast, the heat across my skin hot and prickly. Usually at such agitation, my mind turns to inescapable thoughts of murder to burn the stubborn fire out. Violence or lust were the only things that calmed it. And that was what Tsuzuki-san was here for, no? To assist me in preventing these urges from making use of themselves in destructive ways. I'd been bracing myself all day for this; for the violence of the curse at its' full strength, now I had taken back that brats portion. It was brutal as I thought but Tsuzuki being in my arms this way, fulfilling the part of me that longed and could not before receive, helped diminish the pain. I was sucking feverously at his skin, my teeth grazing over the slightly tanned flesh with borderline mal intent. I sated this slightly by distributing a small nip to Tsuzuki's shoulder, not ever hard enough to leave a mark. It was enough though. The 'attack' passed and The Withering's chance to seize me that night had failed. I was out of the danger zone for the time being.

I was surprised at how sedate it had been compared to other times. It couldn't have just been Tsuzuki-sans presence, particularly since our proximity was reduced to merely touching. Something I would certainly have to muse over later, when I was not in the midst of entertaining my guests.

The curses hand passed without Tsuzuki even noticing. He must have simply taken it for me being passionately aggressive. Well, I was not going to mislead him otherwise. Calmed now, I raised my head from his shoulder and instead rested my chin upon it. As Tsuzuki-san casually sipped his wine, I found my eyes focused again on Watari-san. I didn't bother lowering my voice as I spoke.

"Out of curiosity, Tsuzuki-san… does this… Yutaka Watari have a partner? Of the romantic persuasion, I mean?"

Tsuzuki looked out at me out of the corner of his eye. "Why would you even ask that?"

I shrugged. "I was just thinking… he seems very boisterous and energetic. Those kinds of people usually have little trouble attracting attention from those around them. Would I be right in assuming, so?"

Truth be told, I was actually asking this for a reason but I wanted to affirm first off if my suspicions were all over nothing.

Tsuzuki nodded and smiled fondly. "I guess you could say that. There's nothing really mean about Watari and people seem to find him very charismatic." (Needless to say, he may have been describing himself here.) "The problem is Watari's usually so vivacious that he tends to intimidate people by having such a big personality. For that reason, he's never really maintained a long term partner whilst he's been a guardian."

I glanced back over at Watari, now more than a little concerned that he'd been searching for something specific amongst my photos. _No one _can find somebody else's pictures and past _that _interesting. At first I had just assumed he was being polite because of my advancements on Tsuzuki. Of course the truth of the matter was that he had not even noticed. He'd been distracted even since Tsuzuki-san had given him the brush off down on the street when he'd finally conceded to addressing me.

The topic of conversation…?

Watari-san turned around to look at me and then pointed back at the picture he'd been examining. He didn't even seem to notice that Tsuzuki-san was sitting on my lap.

"Say Muraki? What exactly is this picture about?" He asked with an altogether much too cheerful expression.

I leaned forward, trying to recall more from memory than what my vision afforded me. I really did not want to get up just so I could have a closer look.

"I believe that was yours truly at age fifteen." I said finally remembering clearly what the picture was. It stuck in my mind, because it was the last time I had ever really been happy. The picture itself was evidence of this. "I think I'd won a dare against my friend Oriya and I forced him to go to school with his hair in pigtails."

Tsuzuki-san got an expectant look on his face and slumped a little. "So, you were evil then as well, huh? I should have expected as much."

I didn't respond. I was too intent on judging the blonde's facial expressions. He was gazing at the picture with eyes that were much too soft, his body language too much devoid of humor to indicate that he found genuine pleasure in Oriya's humiliation such as I had. The pink ribbons I'd wound around his pigtails had secured him a lasting reputation. Time and time again he swore he would shave his head so that no one would be able to recognize him but I knew he was too fond of his long brown hair to ever do that.

Watari-san was looking at the fifteen year old spectacle I'd made of my closest and only real friend, with a repulsive insipid expression of pining.

How could I tell? Well one learns to read expressions well, when one works in a hospital with many part time and full time nurses alike. Most who are none too subtle about revealing their particular fancy of a certain tall, white haired doctor.

I retrieved my glasses from the table and placed them delicately upon the bridge of my nose. I pushed them back up before my eyes as I set them on the fellow physician.

"You wouldn't happen to… be keen on Oriya Mibu, would you?"

I'd expected a denial of sorts. Protests, blushing, extreme waving of hands, passing out, something Tsuzuki would do under those circumstances. Rather, Yutaka Watari knew perfectly well how to handle himself. He just smiled at me, somewhat daringly.

"That easy to see was it?"

Ah, wonderful. (Note the sarcasm. It doesn't come across well in writing.) When it came to Oriya, the man was purposefully ignorant of relationship commitments but managed to find himself involved with the most unlikely of people regardless of any advice yours truly sought to bestow him with. No one has told Oriya Mibu who or whom he may not go out with since he was a high school boy and it wasn't as though he listened then either. Regardless, he tended to avoid relationships on the most part perfectly content to keep to himself in the closed garden of the Kokakuro, smoking his pipe and drinking his saké. Romantic companionship was not altogether something he treasured as being of great importance, preferring instead the links he'd maintained with a few exceptional close friends and the girls who worked at his establishment, who he viewed as something like daughter figures in his lack of actually having children of his own. Essentially, it did not worry Oriya that he was alone. He enjoyed his own company and was slightly standoffish in group situations; despite his power and influence with VIP's and the like.

However, that was not to say that Oriya did not appreciate attention from admirers. He was not above responding to that attention either, depending on the respect he felt for that person.

Essentially, Oriya's romantic preference was women, though he had expressed sexual interest in men from time to time. And I _could_ vaguely recall himonce admitting to having a predilection for blondes, especially if they were intelligent, vivacious sorts of people.

I admit this had me worried. Pursuing a Shinigami was a simple enough task for a creature like me but were Oriya to get involved with one himself… I was unsure of how he could be expected to handle the consequences. If he _were_ to get involved that was.

Although…Oriya did respect men who took chances. He admired perseverance and a sharp wit.

Still I had much reservation of the likelihood of such a relationship blossoming. Oriya was in a different class to the blond doctor. Austere and courteous with little patience for childish whimsies and bounciness. He could also be slightly surly and serious to a fault when he suited him. They were like chalk and cheese, the pair of them.

I chuckled and leant back against the cushion's, bringing Tsuzuki with me. "Listen to me Watari-san, and realize now that I mean no offense by this but Oriya Mibu outclasses you completely. I would advise you keep your distance and enjoy watching him from afar. That's where most people who admire him stand-" I quickly clamped my mouth shut as the thought hit my brain like a runaway locomotive. Oh dear Lord, why didn't I think of that sooner?!

Tsuzuki glanced at me in confusion as I suddenly lifted him from my lap and deposited him gently beside me on the couch. I climbed to my feet, smoothing out the creases in my trousers before making my way over to the kitchen.

"If you'll excuse me one moment, I just remembered I have a very important call to make. Please make yourselves comfortable and I will be back momentarily."

It was a verifiable risk leaving Tsuzuki-san alone but I figured it might be a good chance to test his developing trust toward me. Besides, this was certainly worth the gamble.

I made my way into the kitchen, sliding the double doors shut behind me and headed for the phone hanging on the wall above the bench. I pulled out one of the stools and sat down, lifting the receiver from the cradle and punching in the number on the keypad. The phone rang on the other line. I studied my nails patiently whilst I waited.

At long last I detected the sound of the call being received, the click as it was raised from the cradle. I'd been expecting the familiar female voice of the receptionist, so it came as some surprise to me when Oriya himself answered.

"Kokakuro Restaurant, Oriya Mibu speaking. How might I be of service to you?"

I'm not afraid to admit that it was a damn pleasure to hear his voice again. The husky, yet casual tone in which he spoke; neither a baritone nor obliquely feminine, made me think of fine whisky. It was forward and meditative at the same time. Contemplative yet direct. I'd missed hearing it, as it reminded me of the man he was. A friend I treasured and acknowledged at the same time that he was not one to be manipulated by my personal wants and designs. Oriya never allowed himself to be anyone's puppet, least of all mine. For what reason he aided me time and time again I do not quite understand. His loyalty is beyond that of the putrid illusion of love; it is something tangible and solid. Something that a logical person like me, a man of science, should have little trouble evaluating. And still the answer is lost to me.

I allowed the smile to form on my face, a tiny unpremeditated example of my emotions.

"It's been a while, Oriya." I expressed, reaching into the pocket of my shirt and retrieving a crumpled cigarette packet. Once he registered who it was, I knew for certain that Oriya would have his lit pipe between his lips.

There was a long silence as Oriya adjusted to my sudden phone call from nowhere. I could practically hear the cogs grinding in his brain.

"Oh, it's _you_." He said finally. And he didn't sound happy about it either. "I was wondering when I would be graced with a call from you again. Still alive, I take it? Though in Kyoto I wouldn't put it past a ghost to pay me a visit."

I chuckled a little. Oriya has this unrivaled ability to demean his intelligence in one sentence and then effectively instigate his wit by tying up his words with some smart ass remark. I slid the cigarette between my lips and then ruffled through my trouser pocket for the lighter. The tip glowed an ember orange for the barest of moments and I inhaled sharply, craving the tobacco more insistently by the second. I hadn't been looking forward to this conversation in the slightest. It was bound to be uncomfortable and Oriya was the one person who could inspire a shred of guilt or remorse in me. If he should speak up in objection. Which he never did.

"Yes Oriya. I'm sorry to have caused your any unnecessary concern." I was actually sincere. "I've been in hospital for three months but I'm all right now."

"You are… the most pinheaded, moronic, idiotic person I have ever met." The other man proclaimed, enunciating clearly so I was fully aware that he _had _in fact been worried about me. "I doubt even _you _would be able to name some of the pills I've had to take these past few months. You left a huge mess for me to clean up, I hope you realize."

"I apologize."

"An apology doesn't cut it this time Muraki!" His voice had taken on a strained tone and I only realized then how badly he had been affected by what had happened in Kyoto. "You disappeared from under the radar. I was at my wits end! Where you're going, when you're coming back,_ if_ you're ever coming back, all you told me was that you would disappear. How the Hell do you expect me to take that, you bastard?! Do you understand what that kind of uncertainty is like?! It's TORTURE! I just hope you've got that damn Saki dilemma out of your system at least for a while. Because quite frankly I could use the break."

I allowed him a minute to compose himself and possibly take a puff on his pipe. After a long distasteful silence, I gathered that he was collected once more. When he spoke, his voice was poised.

"We made an agreement." He said. "After the completion of your experiment you would not bother me anymore."

"Is this phone call a bother to you, Oriya?" I asked, with mock sincerity. "If my memory serves me correctly old friend, you seemed objectionable to this bargain in the first place, did you not? And if you want to be technical, the firm implication of our arrangement stated that once the experiment was complete I would disappear. Since my experiment failed, I think that voids the pledge, don't you think?"

I could hear a faint, exasperated chuckle on the other end of the line. "Three months…" He said, more to himself than to me. He might have been shaking his head in wonderment. "I was expecting a little more than three teensy weensy months to get over the trauma of having you as a friend."

There was another immaterial silence as he paused to consider this. The following may best be coupled with a sordid shrug, knowing Oriya. "Well you do what you have to do I suppose. No point in crying over spilt milk." At long last his tone changed, morphing from 'tenderly-annoyed-older-pseudo-sibling' to 'happy-high school-friend.' "It's good to know that you are safe and well. Working back at the Tokyo General Hospital?"

"I am."

"That's certainly a relief to hear. Though I don't suppose it will be too long before you get those niggling itches for carnage. Or…" His voice lowered suspiciously. "Is _that _what this phone call is really about? I do hope you have not expanded your palate to where it was before denied."

I knew that he was referring to the murders at the Kokakuro, an assumption that truly offended me. As my oldest and closest friend, I'd made an assurance to Oriya that my practice would never encroach upon his own establishment or those within his service. I think of it this way: You do not bite the hand that feeds you. Or in my case, the one that cleans up after you.

"Actually, I have been on my best behavior since Kyoto." I ascertained, reaching out across the bench and pulling an ash tray towards me. They were littered about the house for my convenience. "I am currently researching other methods to sate my appetite for Death du Jour."

"Why do I not like the way that you say that?" Oriya groaned. I could practically hear his mind work, calculating just who exactly he would need to contact in order to spare my derriere. This time I could not suppress my laughter.

"Oh you sound so concerned Mibu…" I murmured, glancing back toward the double doors leading to the living room. I hadn't heard any footsteps announcing my two guests had tired of my deferred presence but Guardian's of Death can be sneaky like that. I concluded that I needed to wrap up this conversation fairly quickly. "You don't need to worry. I am currently pursuing the one that I love. He is like me, a descendant of darkness. I have found that his presence has something of a soothing effect on me, as well as the curse that Saki has painted on my body. As such, due to his humanitarian nature, this has forced me to make some altercations to my previous lifestyle. Owing to the loss of material in the fire at the University, I truly now have no further motive but to obtain him as my mate. Now that removing the curse is beyond my ability, this is the alternative I have decided upon."

"Oh, this again?" Oriya sounded appropriately affectionate. Affectionate in a frustrated way. "You still chasing after that pie in the sky? I suppose it's an improvement to murder, biological experimentation and all that jazz but still… couldn't you settle down with Ukyou? Or failing that, a nice nurse or something?"

I sighed and rubbed my temple irritably. Oriya's unsociable nature meant he would never be able to familiarize himself with the thrill of obsession, of passion for someone hoarded for so many years. And don't glare at me like that Oriya, you know it's the truth.

"I broke off my engagement with Ukyou this morning." I informed him, gazing down absent mindedly at my cigarette. It had become all but a great long cylindrical ash. "If I had felt a level of attraction for the woman I may indeed have been content to continue the relationship. As it was, I feel that she too foresaw the futility in us ever marrying. Consequently, she appeared pleased as it were that I had finally brought the matter to light rather than prolong the ineffectual charade any further."

"I would pursue this nurse suggestion of mine but I know you'll only find some clever way to counter it." Oriya murmured, muffled a little from what was most likely the pipe stem. "Rather than simply accepting the truth; that you are nothing more than a flaming homosexual."

This had been underhand but I still refused to let it slide. "That's rather sweet, coming from a pimp who spends his hours off of the clock practicing his sword technique. I believe you can draw your own conclusions there, my friend."

"All right, all right we'll call it square." He grumbled, uncomfortable as always with my cold clarification of his double life. "By the way, it's great to know that you're doing well and all Muraki but… you haven't yet asked how I am. Nice way to greet an old friend. How about a; 'Gee Oriya, you sound a little weary. Oh and thanks for working your ass off to keep mine out of prison, I really appreciate what you do for me even when you're up to your ears in other insignificant things like…well I don't know… _your own life?'_"

Touché. "Gee Oriya, you sound a little weary. Oh and thanks for working your ass off to keep mine out of prison, I really appreciate what you do for me even when you're up to your ears in-"

"Put a sock in it, smart ass." The swordsman growled and for one moment alone, the difficulties we had faced in all our years of friendship was extinguished in the light of this moment. A reminiscence of the boys we had been in high school, once upon a time when we had laughed about stupid things. Memories are nothing more than memories though and once the humor had passed, it returned to the way it always was between us. A personal yet starched relationship; a friendship where he would be unable to look at me without even frowning. Truth be told, I missed seeing Oriya's smile. It was rare to see him smile at much of anything any more, especially in my presence. It is the same with Tsuzuki-san now I come to think about it.

"Oriya, I have a favor to ask of you."

I'm sure he rolled his eyes here. "How did I guess this was coming? Such powers! I must have read your mind."

I disliked it immensely when he got sarcastic. It was like enduring the wrath of a petulant child. "I know I don't have any right to ask this of you but I would truly appreciate it, if you would hear me out."

"Go on."

Acceptance without hesitation. This was a good sign. "The Guardian Asato Tsuzuki is in my company tonight as well as one other. They have informed me that you filed a request with the Judgment Bureau to aid you in the investigation of some murders at the Kokakuro."

Oriya's voice retracted a little, as though he were expecting me to flare up for involving anyone with the ability to incriminate me. "Winoma-san contacted them for me. He was the one who suggested I seek assistance from the Ministry, though I was somewhat reluctant to do so. The nature of the murders themselves however demand spiritual attention and these agents of the Summons Section would be able to identify if there truly has been demonic interference or not. At first… forgive me for saying so, but I did suspect that you may have had a hand in the killings."

"Is that so?" I mused. "I suppose it is difficult to fathom the intentions of a murderer, even if they are your close friend."

"It was the symbol in the room that led me to believe it." He mumbled in a distracted tone of voice. Clearly he was troubled by the proximity of the murders, a personal sting to his own skills as a Samurai. A mortal would have no chance against Oriya Mibu and he was even capable of giving some immortals a run for their money. But I suspected that if a demon was indeed the perpetrator, Oriya's talents would not have mattered a jot. A demon would have been able to commit the crime unaware if that is what it desired. "We haven't removed the bodies yet. I've had that room closed off for the time being but the stench of blood is still heavy. I've allowed most of my girls leave until the crime scene is cleared and nearly all accepted. I think they're afraid that they'll be next. Even my receptionist tended her resignation, which is why I'm the one handling calls at the moment. A small group of my girls have stayed behind. They say they have an obligation to continue work but I believe they just wish to keep me company."

"How nice," I declared thinking that the girls' real reason for remaining at the Kokakuro was because they fancied Oriya. "Actually Oriya… the favor I wish to ask of you indirectly concerns these murders. Or rather, the Guardian they are sending to investigate them."

"What do you mean?" He asked warily. The apprehension in his voice threw me for a loop.

"The Guardian being sent to the Kokakuro has also been assigned as my loves unofficial body guard, due to the arrangement he and I have made…" I told him carefully. Oriya remained silent, a sign that I had his full attention. "Because of my past actions, Tsuzuki-san does not trust me. That is certainly understandable. Yet, rather than place his faith in his own abilities to monitor me, he has chosen to nominate another guardian to accompany us on every outing that we have. This minor detail does not leave me with a great deal of flexibility if you get my drift."

"And…?" Oriya prompted.

"In the space of time, in which this guardian will be investigating the case at the Kokakuro, Tsuzuki-san will have no choice but to accompany me alone when I ask it of him. This will allow me a narrow window in which I am aiming to consummate a more… personal bond between us. It is a little difficult to do so at the moment with an audience."

"Can't you just ask him to go into another room or something?"

I wished he had been able to see my expression then because I am certain that it was fairly priceless. "My friend, this is not the Kokakuro where it is perfectly natural to make others sit in separate rooms and read a magazine whilst they are entertained by a cacophony of exulted moans and passionate exclamations through the walls. Nor is it college where no one even bothered going into separate rooms at all and just chose an empty corner. Besides he will barely let me near him at all. A moment uninterrupted is lucky, whilst every other minute I'm being belted with furniture."

"All right, now let me see if I have this clear," Oriya stated. "You figure that the longer I keep this incorrigible third wheel out of your hair, the longer you have to establish sexual ties with your undead man toy?"

I stuck my nose in the air. "Oriya you are crude. Correct… but crude."

He made a noise of confirmation down the phone. "Muraki… I'm sure you are aware of this but… you are a fairly twisted individual yourself. Crude is pretty hypocritical, when coming from a necrophiliac."

I ignored him and he eventually got the hint that I was serious. His voice obtained that professional, 'I-just-know-I'm-going-to-regret-this' tone.

"And how exactly would you like me to stall this guardian for you, Muraki? Whack him over the head with a two by four and pack him up in shipping crate for Rishiri Island?"

"Appealing but no. Actually… the only true way you can prolong his stay is by prolonging the case. By making it more difficult for him to solve it."

There was a long, uneasy pause and I detected that Oriya was not exactly thrilled with this proposition.

"I know what you're suggesting. And let me tell you something before you say another word…" He said coldly. When Oriya got angry, his voice tended to get thinner and remote, as opposed to mine which got hotter. "My girls are dear to me, Muraki. I want to find out who did this to them. What you are suggesting is that I omit evidence, hide information and generally make it difficult to find the bastards responsible, is that right?"

The cigarette in my fingers had burnt all the way down to the filter. I crushed it into the bottom of the ashtray and lit up another one. I wasn't a chain smoker but the constant in surge of tobacco helped my body and my mind to relax.

"I'm not suggesting that you make it _impossible _to find the perpetrator, Oriya." I explained, praying to any God that would bother to tune into my prayers that he wasn't about to bore me with some self righteous declamation of decency. If I wanted that, I had Tsuzuki-san in the next room. "All I'm asking is that you make it difficult for them to find the perpetrator _rapidly_. If by omitting particular evidence or losing a few vital accounts of facts, than so be it."

"Another stalling tactic…" He mumbled, not bothering to hide his aggravation. "Whenever we talk it's only because you want something. I will treasure the day that you call me to simply ask if I can bring over the dip. Ever since High school you've done nothing but make my life a trial. I still haven't recovered from some of the things you made me do. Like that time you made me wear my hair in pigtails with pink bows, boy now that was mean even for you. Even now I wake up screaming."

He wasn't usually this tiresome. The Oriya of old didn't waste dalliances on complaining, it simply was not a part of his personality. I was wondering whether I should present him with this astute observation when he beat me to the finishing line. He sighed heavily, the drama of a man who feels like he is carrying the weight of a thousand nations on his shoulders. Samurai lineage for you.

"If you promise to behave yourself for at least another three months… I will grant you this small favor." In the background I heard a woman's voice call out his name and Oriya answered, his voice muffled by distance from the receiver. He turned his attention back to the call. "Everyone is turning in now. I should be going. Is there anything else?"

"Just one small detail that may be useful in stalling this particular guardian." I lowered my voice, flickering through the Four Level's of Penetration to ensure that I was truly alone in the room before continuing. "It seems that he is attracted to you."

"Ah…" Oriya replied. "I see. That means it must be one of the three whom visited the Kokakuro that night in Kyoto. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting any of the others."

I nodded regardless of whether he could see me or not. "There were three other guardians in Kyoto investigating during that particular incident. Seiichiro Tatsumi, Yutaka Watari and the boy, Hisoka Kurasaki."

"The boy had admirable determination…" Oriya stated, as though anyone who could screech Tsuzuki's name was worthy of respect. "Perhaps he is the one they are sending?"

"No, he is Mr. Tsuzuki's partner. You are being sent the Guardian in charge of that particular area; Yutaka Watari."

A pause. "That's the tall man with well combed dark hair, right?" There was a dangerous edge to his voice that implied I answer appropriately here or suffer the consequences. At this point, I was completely unaware as to his prejudices and was ignorant of what was in my best interests.

"No, he is the gentleman with the long blonde hair."

Something cracked on the other end of the phone. "Did you just bite through your pipe?" I wondered.

"Tell your guardian boyfriend to send another agent. I asked specifically that they did not assign the blond one."

I had been unaware of this. It wasn't like Oriya to form unprovoked dislikes against people for no reason.

"What ever for?" I asked. I was rather intrigued. "The man is extremely intelligent, down to earth, personable, _blond_… his company would not be objectionable to a hermit crab like you. What's the big deal?"

"You don't need to know what _my_ deal is Muraki." The swordsman snapped. "Just know that I have my reasons. It's nothing personal. It just has to do with the way he looks."

"Oh and that is not personal? He's not exactly substandard Oriya, you could do a lot worse. Believe me, I've _seen _you do a lot worse. Did I mention he was blond?"

I could hear the tension rising in his voice. Obviously he did have a good reason for not desiring the guardian's presence, but he was unable to convey it directly to me in a way that suited him.

"Muraki, once again that is not the point." He said as calmly as possible. "Tell him I am flattered by his attention but they had best send someone else."

"He'll be there by tomorrow morning. There's no sending someone else."

"Dammit Muraki!!" I could practically envision him stomping his foot like a frustrated child. "What am I supposed to do?"

I inhaled warmly on the cigarette. "You could try smiling at him every now and again; he may mistake you for being friendly. Oh… and you could flirt a little. That's where you express attraction on a sexual basis towards someone who you would like to engage the interests of, in case you'd forgotten."

"Muraki, I run a brothel! How on earth do you suppose I've forgotten the fundamentals of flirting?!"

I ignored him. "Believe me, Oriya; if you flirt with him he will respond well. From what I have observed he is rather… _licentious _and should be easily distracted from his task. This will limit your responsibility when it comes to actually concealing evidence relating to the case. Isn't a little romantic interaction preferable to the latter?"

"You are… _unbelievable _Kazutaka Muraki…" My friend hissed. "Just keep in mind that you owe me considerably for this. Big time, my friend. It is truly an inconvenience. And what the hell does licentious mean, anyway?!"

"Sexually unrestrained. And this is not nearly as great an inconvenience as my previous favors, no?" I asked cheerfully. Oriya made a mocking snickering sound at me and sighed again. He sounded fatigued, the weight of the last twenty-four hours resting heavily on his spirit.

"Fine." He agreed. And I will be the first to say that he sounded even less happy about this part of the agreement than the first half. "Prolong the case by concealing evidence and flirting with some nerdy blond bimbo, all so that you can play 'Sword in the Stone' with Little Miss Lavender Eyes. Anything I missed out?"

"How about thanking me for setting you up with a cute blond?" I reminded him pompously.

Long silence.

"You're the biggest fucking asshole on the entire planet." Oriya hissed venomously. "I'm going to go to bed and enjoy my last moment of freedom before I have to play that guardian's wet nurse for god only knows how long."

"Wet nurse?"

"You know for a smart person you can miss the obvious so easily." He said. "Maybe if you used the small portion of your brain devoted to relating to the rest of the human race, you would understand where I'm coming from."

I was still unable to decipher his meaning and my lack of response only caused Oriya further aggravation. He sighed softly.

"Clearly there are matters in which even someone like you could not possibly understand. Always a pleasure Muraki. Goodnight. Oh," His voice took on a sarcastic overture. "– and thanks for setting me up with a cute blond. You always were a good friend."

Oh my…. how delightfully infantile. I would have told him this myself but the juvenile man hung up on me before I had the chance. I stared at the receiver in astonishment before elegantly placing it back within the cradle.

Oriya's attitude aside, I felt that I had successfully arranged a postponement for my dear friend Yutaka. The act itself, almost a betrayal of the vow I had made to Tsuzuki-san, made me feel animated. As though I had been starving for one small act of wickedness and this in some way quenched that part of me. Oriya was not pleased about assisting me but then again, he never truly has been able to adjust well to the creature I have become. To the creature I have made _him _become. As much as he tries to pretend otherwise, Oriya's involvement with me inadvertently condemns him as an accessory to murder. By cleaning up after me, assisting me in what favors I ask of him. I've never mentioned this to him out loud, for he truly despises the confirmation. It wounds his delicate sense of nobility, if the reality of spoken affirmation fleshes it out. But that is the truth of the matter and he seeks to avoid recognizing this fact by his continual chides at me, whilst thinly veiling the details of his own involvement. He is not an exhibitionist by nature and any guilt he feels, if any at all, he prefers to keep inside.

I chuckled to myself, marveling at his reaction to the blonds' imminent arrival. Oriya had reacted with detest at the suggestion of the guardian's involvement but despite his protests, I knew him well enough to realize that once he established bonds with someone, Oriya became very protective of them. That of course depended on his willingness to attempt a relationship of any degree with the individual, which was a task all on its own.

As I extinguished the cigarette, I picked up a strange thumping noise coming from the sitting room. Curious, I got to my feet and pushed my way back through the double doors.

I was met with a rather humorous sight.

There was a noticeable drop in temperature within the room, emanating from the presence of the aforementioned wraith that happened to haunt my home. Typically enough, the spirit belonged to a servant of a prior family, whom had hanged himself from the second floor stairway beam. Over the years I have consistently cast a strong Protection Spell within the interior of the mansion, to restrain the ghosts' wanderings and possible malevolent intent. However, the ghost was quite harmless. More of the Stone Tape recording variety, than that of the malicious poltergeist persuasion.

I could have explained this to my dear Tsuzuki-san and effectively eased his doubts but I had the feeling it would have been a moot point anyway. Besides, it was simply too adorable to observe his reaction.

He was standing on one leg on top of the priceless suede couch, one arm extended in midair, the other poised defensively before him, thrusting a fuda charm in the wraiths direction. Tsuzuki was shaking so insistently I was certain he was about to topple off of the furniture at any moment. His balance was clearly affected by the wine he had been drinking.

Watari-san, not nearly so alarmed by the spirits entrance, was trying to negotiate calmly with the brunette and contain the apparent need to collapse in hysterics. The wraith, a filmy semi-transparent elderly gentleman, merely bobbed its' way across the room paying little attention to my two guests. The way that Tsuzuki-san was carrying on you would think it was staggering towards him with a blood stained mace.

"Oh…no…" A tiny voice squeaked from somewhere in the vicinity of Tsuzuki's chest. He was well and truly trapped. I could see his brain flipping through a mental rolodex of slides relating to self-preservation, attempting to select a suitable solution to this dilemma. He solved it quite respectively, I thought.

"Tsuzuki!" Watari yelped, stumbling out of the way to avoid Tsuzuki's feet as he flipped _backwards _off of the sofa, backpedaling through the double doors with a look of horror upon his face, akin to someone witnessing the violent death of their mother. And then, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been witness to it myself, the top Shinigami in the Ministry of Hades' _ran away_ in a panicky, high stepping manner like a woman who had just spotted a spider, screaming; 'Help! Help! HELP!!' at the top of his lungs.

The blond looked over to see me standing by the door and flashed me a shrug coupled with a helpless expression. I shook my head, smiling with affectionate amusement and then uttered a few select incriminations. The wraith glanced about with momentary discomfort and then slowly made its way out of the room, by passing through the far wall. I could hear Tsuzuki's hysterical dancing footsteps echoing up the hallway, a clear sign that he had taken a wrong turn.

"Idiot!" Watari-san grunted and then dashed through the door that my beloved had just left by. I followed at a walk.

Tsuzuki came tearing back towards us and leapt straight at Watari-san, throwing his arms around his neck and hanging on tight. His beautiful purple eyes darted to and fro nervously, seeking out the wraith in the Second Level of Penetration. I knelt a little, allowing us to see one another face to face.

"You may relax now, Tsuzuki-san. I already informed you, the wraith will not harm you. It is benevolent."

"I. Don't. CARE!!" The Shinigami snapped all but head butting me with the violent gestures he made. "You are _clearly _underestimating my phobia! I'm not afraid to admit it but ghosts _scare _me." The house creaked and Tsuzuki shrieked in reply, clinging on even tighter to Watari if that is at all possible. "Muraki, can we please call it a night? I wanna go home… my home isn't haunted…"

My suitable thrust and parry concerning his own deceased self inhabiting the residence would have to be put on hold. My eyes traveled over to the large Grandfather clock, presiding in the vast hallway. It had indeed gotten late. It was a little before Twelve o'clock. I realized that this had been the longest sustained period of time that Tsuzuki and I had spent together. Four and a half hours. Quite a record and certainly a tribute to his rising tolerance of me. Though I had wanted to spend longer with him now that part of our time had been interrupted by my impromptu call to Oriya, I conceded to his request. There would be plenty of time later, once Watari-san was out of the picture.

I smiled in what I hoped was a benign manner and nodded. "Certainly, Tsuzuki-san. It is rather late. Thankyou for a lovely evening."

A faint blush spread across his cheeks, evidence of his shy personality reacting appropriately to this inveigle I had offered him. Acting as though I was truly sincere was the most difficult role I'd ever had to play. If I was to be truly candid regarding my own feelings, I would have expressed them by kicking Watari-san into an available wardrobe, throwing Tsuzuki-san over the nearest horizontal surface and demonstrating just how much I would appreciate his presence for a little while longer. Instead I was forced to act curt and civil, at the expense of my roaring and considerably suppressed libido.

But, a reward means nothing to one without our moments of sacrifice… does it not?

I led the two men to the Coat room and retrieved their garments for them. I helped Tsuzuki-san slide on his jacket and then trench coat. I squeezed his shoulders affectionately and then moved on over to assist Watari-san. It was a good chance to prove my resolve by extending chivalry not just to Tsuzuki alone, but also to his companions. I could see that it worked. Tsuzuki-san gazed at me with a befuddled expression I could not help but adore. He was simply too endearing for his own good.

Once they were both rugged up, I escorted the guardians to the front door. Watari had left several large shopping bags perched against the wall and he picked them up, slinging them into the crook of his left arm. I moved past him and flicked on the outside light so that they would be able to see where they were going. I then reached out to clasp the door knob.

"How did he die?"

I barely recognized the soft voice as coming from Tsuzuki. He was standing close behind me, his face separated from my shoulder blades by about an inch. I retracted my hand and turned to face him.

"The _yurei_? It's been here since long before my family bought the estate. According to the stories I heard, he hanged himself."

I observed his soft expression, attempting to reason this explanation against a probable and yet definitive assumption he had already made. His deep, striking eyes met mine and I wished more than once I was able to see him on the first plane of spiritual penetration with both. My mechanical right eye could flick through a rolodex of Second, Third and Forth penetration whilst my left eye could see onto the first alone. This was one of the reasons I had chosen to grow my hair long over the right side of my face; to obscure the irregularity of the eye and also to avoid confusing my visual process unless it was absolutely necessary. Curtaining the eye avoided me from taking in competitive material.

"I thought that-'' The words spat out of him. I knew what was coming. "I thought that you might have been the one who killed him."

I tried hard not to seem amused. "I'm afraid that is one responsibility I must forfeit rights to, Tsuzuki-san. Unless of course you mean to suggest that I murdered him in a past life?"

I had taken this intended lighthearted comment too far and Tsuzuki failed to accept it the way I had hoped he would. Something passed across his face; his lip hiked upward and his temper rose to the surface, so that when he spoke, the words were forced to slide from between clenched teeth. His hands fisted at his sides.

"Don't--you--_dare_--make-fun--of-me."

"Tsuzuki-san…" I murmured, reaching out to gently brush my hand across his cheek. He slapped my fingers away and fastened his own around the inside elbow of Watari's jacket. With a sharp tug, he dragged the other Shinigami towards the door, opening it with his free hand. I didn't try to touch him again but rather moved aside to grant him unobstructed access to the exit. I relaxed my expression until it was verifiably unreadable.

Tsuzuki paused in the doorway and looked sideways, taking me in from the corner of his left eye.

"We have to go." He said, though it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was doing. "Thank you for dinner. And… the wine."

Watari made an effort to smile though I could tell his heart wasn't truly in it. Not that this was of any real concern to me. I nodded briskly at him and then closed the space between myself and Tsuzuki.

"Asato, would you let me kiss you?"

I felt his body seize up at my request. I took advantage of his momentary immobilization and gently clasped the curve of his shoulders in my hands, trailing my fingers down along his arms until they met the bare skin of his hands. Watari pried himself out of Tsuzuki's grasp and moved away, facing outside and humming distractingly to himself.

Tsuzuki looked over his shoulder at me crossly. "Don't call me that. You haven't proven yourself worthy of that intimacy yet."

I spun him around to face me, wrapping my arms around the curve of his waist and pulling him tightly in against my body. He gasped at the insistence of my actions, the expulsion of his breath a traitor to all that he sought to deny himself of. He looked up at me.

"Then perhaps that means you will allow me the chance to earn such an honor?" I whispered, tenderly stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment and I adjusted the angle of my palm so that it clasped his cheek, moving my lips down to within a bare inch of his own. I could feel the once dead heart throb to life in his chest, sounding out a rhythm lost to all those but the two of us who alone could understand its' music. Tsuzuki opened his eyes to half mast, biting his lip as he registered the slight distance between us. His arms remained firmly by his sides. But the fingers were loose, an indication that he did not feel entirely objectionable to my enticement.

"If you live up to your end of the bargain-'' He managed to choke out. "-then I'll live up to mine."

"So we have a deal then?"

He considered shortly as I removed the hand from his cheek and positioned it before his face, fingers and palm flat. The first time we had introduced ourselves, we had shaken hands though I don't think Tsuzuki had any idea at the time exactly what he would be getting himself into once he got to know me. Our hands joined, names were exchanged and the hunt began. The human hand with its' opposable thumb signifies humans as settlers, as builders and producers. With our hands we are able to touch, heal, prayer, gesture, speak, comfort, hold, build, confirm, deny, block, beckon, the list is as eternal as time and space itself.

My hand in yours. Representative of the way I had dreamed our bodies would one day come together, aligned in an unspoken promise. Of all the trust that a handshake signifies, I wanted you to understand what you offered me in our vow of trust. The chance to let down your guard and allow me entry into the very intimate nature of your spirit. The chance to have you in my bed one day as my lover. As my mate.

Tsuzuki-san contemplated my hand from all angles, as though he were checking to see whether I had spit in my palm. At long last, he bit down on his lip and roughly slapped his hand into my own. I tightened my fingers around it.

"Deal." He grumbled, sounding just as thrilled as Oriya had when I'd asked him for a favor. It was all quite the same to me at this point however and with a satisfied smile, I allowed my fingers to slide from his own and slip ever so slowly around his hip and into the small of his back. Tsuzuki shifted, his eyes straying uncomfortably to follow the line of my arm, his hands poised in midair, as though he were in the midst of warding me off, though he hadn't yet spoken a word to substantiate this.

Our lips were only an inch or so apart. I ducked my head in order to fill the space, my own lips closed so that the kiss I delivered was relatively chaste. I paid special attention to his upper lip, catching it between both my own before releasing and then recapturing it, allowing my tongue a bare, insatiable moment to stroke it. This was proof of the so far impersonal nature of our relationship. Tsuzuki's smaller upper lip presented the charade he forced upon himself and others. The false life he chose to live. That was all he would be able to offer me at this point and I would not pay my respects to that lower lip until he was ready to be more intimate with me. To trust me and be comfortable with who he really was.

I closed my eyes, bringing my other hand around to brace my arm against his shoulders. I tried to keep him pressed close against my body, but Tsuzuki took my gamble as the opportunity to push both his hands into my upper arms and separate our bodies a little. He did not stop the kiss but he was establishing that distance between us again. I was fine with that. I moved both my hands down to frame his waist, denying the temptation to deepen the kiss when I felt the other man slowly respond. It was uncertain, hesitant, a result of his mixed feelings about my sincerity and quite possibly an ode to his own inexperience. His mouth slowly teased my bottom lip, an action I found delightfully ironic. In my own symbolism, Tsuzuki had instigated intimacy by engaging the simile I compared to the state of whom I really am. The sign that I had accepted myself for what I was. I would have laughed but I was far too involved in the moment. Instead I opened my eyes and looked down at him. His own eyes were closed but his face had a tight look, as if he were trying to separate himself from the physical pleasure. My lips twitched into a smile and I broke the kiss, raising a hand to cup his face. My thumb rubbed against his cheek. He looked shaken, which pleased me.

"Good night Muraki." He said, distributing a soft squeeze to my arms. That was clearly the only intimacy he could afford towards me without compromising himself too greatly.

"Good night Tsuzuki-san." I replied and was shocked to find that my voice was rather wavery. I cleared my throat and felt the controlled mocking smile spring back across my face. "You will hear from me soon."

He nodded, apparently still attempting to collect himself. Watari-san glanced over his shoulder, saw that the exchange was done and smiled affectionately as he came back over to Tsuzuki's side. He gently took a hold of his hand.

"Come on, mate." He chuckled as he waved a hand before my loved ones suitably bewildered expression. Tsuzuki snapped to attention, muttered something that may have been mistaken as a bumbling confirmation and allowed himself to be led away into the night by his hand. Once they had disappeared around the corner I closed the door and switched off the outside light.

**Tsuzuki**

"So, we gonna head out with Ichi tonight?" I asked as I wound my fingers around Watari's arm and rested my head on his shoulder. "Huh? I owe you a drink for what you did tonight after all."

The blond chuckled and gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. "I wish I kinda hadn't promised now. I'm going to have a hard enough time getting up as it is." He yawned as though to demonstrate just how extreme his task was going to be and swung the bags in his right hand in circles, just tempting all the clothes and fancy underwear to go flying. Then he started to grin and I knew he wasn't tired enough to keep from teasing me. God Dammit. "So Tsuzuki_-san_… hmmm?"

"Ooooh! Don't you start!" I warned him, giving him a little push in the back. "You saw what I did to Muraki's hand at the restaurant; you _so_ don't want to see what I'll do to your jugular if you keep at it!"

"I've already seen what you can do to my jugular." Watari sleazed, winking at me suggestively. I felt my face go red and I shoved him hard, sending him off in a reeling spiral of laughter. He quickly scooted back to my side and slung a friendly arm around my shoulder, pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Aww, don't take it so seriously big guy! But you know… you did look like you were actually enjoying yourself back there. And don't bother giving me that age old excuse; 'It was all just an act' because I've seen you act and let's face it; you're not exactly Oscar material."

I could see the shadow of his smile in the darkness and attempted to take the insult in my stride. It seemed both appropriate and depressing that the one creature I felt an attraction to after all these years was an evil sociopath. There was something profoundly revealing in that. Perhaps Muraki was truly the physical representation of my afforded guilt, that I'd conjured him to punish myself for my atrocious past acts. My feelings of remorse and self deprecation had limited my choice in romantic partners considerably, though I'd certainly registered a noticeable amount of attraction from those I came into contact with.

My morality aside, I was certain that should I have desired to ever give myself to someone… sexually and emotionally, I could have done so many times by now. But I never had. I never knew anyone who deserved to be subjected to a vile creature like me. Anyone I had ever known to have fancied me in that way, I convinced them in that dopey cheerful way I have, that they were worthy of so much better. Or I was naïve to the point that they simply lost interest. I'd always been aware though and if I had wanted it for merely the physical feelings, I could have had it.

It made me wonder. "Watari?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"That one time you and I got really drunk-''

"Doesn't really narrow it down, sport."

I puffed out my cheeks. "Would you let me finish the sentence? That one time we nearly… well… you know…"

Though Watari was not usually sparing on account of ones humility, this time he did me a favor and simply nodded. "Mmmhmm?"

I could feel my cheeks flaming to the point my complexion could have put a cooked lobster to shame. We stopped walking and came to a standstill beneath a streetlight on the corner of an intersection. The bulb was flickering. Moths circled the dying light.

"I don't remember too well…" I admitted, hiding my hands in my pockets and skirting my shoulders in; wishing I could just hide away so all he could hear was my voice. "But… why didn't we?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't we go all the way you mean?"

"Yeah. I mean… I think I was ready."

Watari seemed to consider this for a while, rubbing a section of his long bangs between his fingers as though registering the texture. A car whizzed by at something like 140 clicks. Watari's long hair lifted off of the back of his neck in the residue breeze.

"You weren't ready, Tsuzuki." He concluded at last. "You were desperate for something physical. You kept on begging me to take you in positions I've never even heard of, let alone attempted. Some of them were illegal too. Over and over you continued to tell me how much you wanted me since the day we first met and that you went to bed every night, dreaming what it would be like to have me make love to you. It got kind of embarrassing when you started reciting all those love poems you've written about me off of the top of your head. That was _nothing _compared to the way you rubbed up against me like some amorous pigeon, calling me words I didn't even think you knew. Then you started running around with your boxer shorts on your head and you collided head first with my chest of drawers. You passed out and I was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of you while you were asleep, so I simply took some good blackmail pictures, made copies and pinned them up on the Notice board at work and then threw a blanket over you and bunked down on the couch. I'm not afraid to admit I had some dark dreams that night."

The entire universe slammed on its' brakes and stalled. I clasped a hand over my mouth, mortified. "Are you serious?"

His face split into a wide grin. He started laughing. "Of course not you big dope! Makes it sound more interesting though, huh?"

I couldn't believe he would even joke about something like that. I clenched my fists threateningly at him, trying to decide whether I should break his leg or his nose first. "Watari…"

"Actually, the truth is not nearly as fascinating," He chuckled, taking his glasses off and holding them a distance from his face as though studying them for smears. Then he proceeded to clean them on his jacket. "This is before I knew the particulars of your death. I tried to take your watch off, you tried to roll up my sleeves. Neither of us wanted the other to see our scars."

I don't know if Watari actually meant to reveal this to me because even to this day, I've had no idea how it was that my friend had actually died. He didn't talk about it, not because he perceived it as being necessarily depressing but because he preferred not to stint on things that happened in the past. Watari was very much invested in existing in the moment and refusing to relinquish ties in the past was something he avoided in his own and most other people's business.

"You have scars?" I asked innocently.

Watari gave me a rare look. Cautionary. "Tsuzuki…"

"I know, I know, we agreed not to talk about how we died." I grumbled, knowing full well that the actual agreement extended mostly on Watari's part. I watched as he finished cleaning his glasses and with one last examination, set them back upon his nose. Then he stretched, the bones in his shoulders popping.

"Well, we'd best be deciding if we want to kick on or not." He said cheerfully, opening one eye to look at me. "I do have to get to bed eventually. Case's to solve; swordsmen to seduce." He waved the bags at me and I smiled, wondering how it came so effortlessly to him to be this confident.

"That's great Watari." I said, giving a mutant yawn to demonstrate how interesting I found his entire plan. He gave me the finger.

"Funny, wise guy. You can just forget about me bringing you a gift back."

"Oooh!" I mocked wiggling my fingers at him. "And I was _so _looking forward to a Matsutaki mushroom too. I heard they make you see pink elephants after you eat them."

His expression got even deadlier and he strode right up to me, prodding my chest violently with his index finger.

"That's it. When we get to that bar, I'm goin' straight to the bartender and telling him to cut you off for the rest of the night, mister." He threatened. This was the point where I usually got down on my knees and proceeded to beg for mercy but before I could brace my legs for the crash to the cement, Watari's expression got unusually serious. His eyes met mine. "Tsuzuki. Once I've gone to Kyoto… I want you to tell Tatsumi what you're doing with Muraki."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "I can't do that!"

"No, Tsuzuki. I'm telling you, you have to." His voice was the most firm I had ever heard it. It was the same tone a father might use to sanction their child and his usually bright eyes were dark. "Muraki may seem harmless enough at the moment but I wouldn't trust that sleazy pervert as far as I could spit his false eye. He's just hankering for the chance to get you alone and I think even a Chastity boy like you would know what for."

"But… isn't that a suitable price to pay if he spares people's lives?" I asked ignorantly. "And don't call me Chastity boy."

"Honey," he said and that's when I really started taking it in. Watari never called anyone 'honey' unless he was being completely serious with them. A rarity as sparsely scattered as roses in the desert. "Listen to me. I won't be here to restrict his actions and Muraki never wants anything as simple as sex. I would have thought you'd realize that by now. I am not going to leave you to deal with that son of a bitch alone, do you understand me? I won't let him hurt you. I've been with enough horrid men to know how easily something as seemingly insubstantial as sex can break a person. And having some understanding of Muraki, the man has more up his sleeve than whipped cream and a rubber. That's the way he is." He lowered his head for a moment and when his eyes met mine again, they were bleak. "You can't get the kid to back you up. I don't want to make you feel guilty over this Tsuzuki, but he's not likely to forgive nor understand your part in this, considering what Muraki did to him. Tatsumi will not be happy granted but he is likely to see the logic in it. And he is strong enough to protect you if the doc happens to get pushy."

"Watari-'' I began.

"Quiet." He snapped, though there was nothing callous in the way he said it. "I want you to tell Tatsumi, otherwise how do you expect me to concentrate on having my wicked way with my swordsman sweetie if I'm always worrying about you? Just do it. If you object any more I'll scribble something really embarrassing on your forehead, bring it to life and then make you walk back to Hades like that."

I chuckled light heartedly and Watari finally cracked a smile. He was still attempting to remain stern though and when he met my eyes again, the critical solemnity weighed his words down.

"Tsuzuki, I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. You know how much I love you."

My eyes bulged.

"In a completely platonic and appropriate way of course!" He quickly assured, waving his hands to and fro. I let out a huge sigh of relief and quickly pulled him into a hug. In a strictly he-man way you understand. "You can rest assured I haven't yet given into the trend of getting all giggly at the very mention of your name."

I blushed again and he ruffled my hair affectionately. "Just tell Tatsumi, okay? I mean it. No one is going to think you're a nuisance for wanting help with this. I didn't find this an inconvenience at all and better if you avoid trouble that may result if he kidnaps you or something."

Like Kyoto. I nodded, though I was already dreading the thought of confronting Tatsumi about this. I could see an ugly salary cut looming on the horizon.

"Okay. I'll tell him." I said.

"Excellent!" Watari chirped, throwing both arms up into the air as though celebrating. I watched expectantly as his bags all burst open and a million colored garments erupted into the night like a caged rainbow, lighting a pattern across the darkness.

"Shit!" He cursed appropriately. I simply marveled at the brilliance.

_**~EC ~**_

**A/N: **Not much of a change to that one folks! Leave a review if you enjoyed and then scoot on over to see the next new addition! Shinigami at the Paranormal bar! And also: Creepy store mannequins, the haunted mirror and the first appearance of the Cleaver Man! (Totally an indulgence chapter but I'm sure my lovely readers can understand that.) ^^ Should be up soon and I hope you guys enjoy it!


	7. Watari: Egg rolls and other small traged...

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** (Blinks at readers) I don't own Descendants of Darkness. I don't want to mess around with legal affairs when I only have enough money to catch a bus from college to my home every day. Please don't take away my bus money. (Big Puppy Tsuzuki eyes)

**Note: **This chapter is from Watari's POV. This is the first time 'Ri actually appears, so treat him nicely everyone! ^^

**Watari: **Yay! Ori's first appearance! ^^ I'm so proud!!

**003: **(Flaps wings and hoots)

**Oriya:** -_- I don't know why you're so happy. This chapter reveals some nasty things about you too, kitten.

**Watari: **(Sweatdrops) Well… yes… but it's worth it just to see your sexy self!! ^^

**Oriya:** Could you be any more ridiculously peppy? … Wait, don't answer that…

**Watari:** (Genki pose) Ah, and a warning to you all ye readers of this here fic; the following chapter contains – GASP!! – a sex flashback! With this so saying, if you cannot stand the thought of two men getting hot and sweaty and passionate-

**Oriya: **(Fans Watari down in a bored fashion)

**Watari: **- then please hit the back button now and spare the author the wrath of your petulant flames! But make sure you leave a review! Specifically to Ori and me! ^^ We like hearing how cute we are together!

**Oriya: **_You _like hearing how cute we are together. I'd just deserve some form of remuneration for your clumsy advancements throughout this chapter.

**Watari: **You're the one who came onto _me _PERVERT! (Squeals and glomphs Oriya) I love you so much!!

**Oriya: **(Going blue) Ack… choking…

**A further note: **As far as the revamping of this chapter goes, not much to report. The conversation between Pandora and Watari is significantly different, the sex flashback alludes to what occurred in the newly written chapter 6 part 2 and there are a few other additions here and there. It just makes the story neater in my opinion. With that being said, I hope you guys all enjoy the newly tightened chapter!

**Egg Rolls and Other Small Tragedies**

x

_Playground, school bell rings_

_Again…_

_Rain clouds, come to play_

_Again…_

_Has no one told you she's not breathing?_

_Hello,_

_I am your mind, giving you some one to talk to_

_Hello…_

_If I smile and don't_

_Believe…_

_Soon I know I'll wake_

_From this dream…_

_Don't try to fix me I'm not broken_

_Hello_

_I am the lie_

_Living for you so you can hide_

_Don't cry…_

_Suddenly, I know I'm not sleeping_

_Hello_

_I'm still here_

_All that's left of yesterday…_

x

"_**Hello**_**" ~ (Evanescence)**

_"Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash." ~ **Louis Aragon**_

**Unknown**

_He had admired the blond from afar for a few minutes before approaching him. Something about the beautiful youth's body language, not to mention the manner in which he dressed and conducted himself, suggested that he was on offer. A brief exchange was made. The blonde had a delicious smile. He looked innocent and cheerful; a perfect combination to find in a chosen bed companion. The stranger delighted in watching him; feasting on every subtle movement his chosen plaything for that night, made. The flutter of his long golden locks across rounded shoulders, the long dark eyelashes that fluttered against his cheeks with every blink, his piercing amber eyes… The other beckoned his prize to him and the blond was just as quick to obey._

_Truth be told by that point, Watari wasn't comprehending much of anything let alone the face of the person grinding against him. The guilt and shame that stole through his system blurred the subtle lines of reality to the point that physical substance no longer had much hold on him. His vision swam as he attempted to make sense of what was happening to him and the vague conception that hovered just out of sight was that he was being fucked. What remained of coherency told him that he didn't want to have this happen but he was so determined for punishment that escaping seemed that much more tiring than actually letting the stranger have his way with him. _

_He wasn't here in this moment anyway. His mind drifted back to years past, to another time and place, where something not so dissimilar had occurred. "Open…" the other had commanded, pressing apart the boys' thighs with one long hand. And in that time, Watari smothered a whimper and bit his lower lip as he felt the erect organ nudge against his opening. He had learnt by now that to fight it only encouraged them more. It was better to get it over and done with._

_The other entered him in one fluid stroke, lifting Watari's hips to a doubtful angle, deeper then his young body should have been accustomed to. The child wanted to scream, to memorialize his pain, but he forcefully turned the sound to a low growl that might have been mistaken for a vocalization of pleasure. He blanked it out; blanked out the driving pain that continued to assault his posterior, thrust after thrust, the sharp nails that tore great fissures into the flesh of his hips. His face, his body, his mind went blank._

"_You want this, you slut."_

_Yes, I want this. I want this because it saves the only thing in this world that is dear to me. Fuck me until I'm bleeding and dead, I don't care. _

"_Tell me you want me. Scream my name."_

_I want you. How loud do you want to hear me scream you name? What kind of expression do you want to see on my face? Tell me what you want. I'm yours to control for this one night._

"_Do you think you're worth more than this life? Do you ever think a disgusting creature like you will ever amount to more?"_

_Yes. I do. I may be dirty now but I won't be forever. One day I will escape from this darkness and leave this all behind. Until then, I'll bide my time idly and be as you want me. Compliant. _

_I did as was required._

"_You disgust me. You're beautiful… and you disgust me. I want to break you, tear you apart and leave you bleeding at my feet because I love and hate you so much. I will break you if it is the last thing that I do."_

_I still wonder if you didn't succeed. _

**Watari**

I still couldn't believe what I had let myself do the previous night.

Idiot. How did I possibly think that could make things better?

Following my bath, I had been unable to sleep. A thousand thoughts raced about my body, filling my soul until I thought that I would just about burst. Thoughts of the darkness I had wandered through that night, desire for a man I had only ever seen at a glance; whom I knew nothing about and had judged from my single moment of perception. The fear of what would become of the one I had left behind. What my death had cost her.

And the same fear I always had; whether I would go to Hell for what I had done.

I thought becoming a Guardian of Death would give me a chance to put things right with the 'Big G' upstairs, to rectify the egregious mistakes I had made in life. But… last night I had slipped again. Sometimes I wondered if it was possible to forsake the token role into which I had invested myself. In life I had been unfaithful to someone I should have dedicated myself to. In death, I had tried to establish myself in relationships that were considered suitable and were looked upon favorably. I tried to be with people that my colleague's (AKA: Tsuzuki) approved of; people with nature's that were commemorated. People who had the capacity to love me and whom I tried to love in return.

But… it didn't seem to matter how well they treated me, or how tender they could be whilst making love. As awful and as shallow as this is to admit; I enjoy sex. I enjoy sex a lot. Not to the point of being a complete addict but in the way that I could easily disregard a relationship should my physical dependency not be met. I liked forceful, rough, even violent partners. Passionate with sadist tendencies.

Maybe I felt the need to punish myself for the act that he had committed on me all those years ago. The time when I had been young and a virgin and I was going to live forever.

I never got the chance to know that the first time could have been anything _but _cruel.

I couldn't really remember the man's face. I told him that if he wanted I wouldn't mind him fucking me. I had nothing better to do that night. You know, other than sleep and prepare for getting up at Sparrow's fart the next morning.

I thought I had grown out of this stage years ago. It had been a long time since I'd engaged in a one night stand and particularly one of this nature. Down an _alleyway_, for fucks sake.

He'd been innocent enough to start with but once I'd instructed him so, his actions morphed from sensuous to brutal. If not for my healing ability, I had no doubt that I probably wouldn't have recovered by morning. He had left me, slumped against the wall, legs and hips twisted at the obscure angle which he had chosen to fuck me at and bleeding from my abused orifice. Regardless, I woke up the next day with that sprightly feeling I always get after sex. Perhaps it's the adrenaline arising from such a violent experience that comes as an accessory to my love life. Inside, I despised myself for my weakness. Orias had made well and sure that I had recognized this egregious and weak encounter for what it was. I continued to deny that I was addicted to masochism. But then I look at the marks inflicted upon my body before my death and realize that lies are little different to scars. You could hide them beneath long sleeves but they would always be there. My true self, like my scars, was my shame I couldn't show the people I loved. I couldn't let them see me for what I was. What I did to keep myself going, to keep myself smiling.

Sate an addiction. Another cigarette to a devoted smoker. Another drink to an alcoholic.

The reality made me want to cry sometimes. I understood myself too well. I didn't want to keep on letting lovers hurt me; physically and mentally. I wanted to be with someone who protected me from myself and at the same time could provide me with the passion and tenderness I craved.

One glance. One single moment in time. That was all it took for me to realize that I needed a man like Oriya. He struck Hisoka and spilled his blood and yet possessed nobility enough to admit he had no right to interfere in affairs of the magnitude that they had escalated to in Kyoto. He struck the perfect balance.

For the first time in my entire life, I had found a person I actually _wanted_ to be with. A person I could have fallen in love with.

_Oriya Mibu …_

There had also been the one that I loved. The girl I had seen in the picture. And that had been more than enough reason for me to run last night.

Mr. Konoe had told me that she had been homed so many years ago. As such, I would not be permitted to visit her again for the duration of her life. To infringe on her at any point, may have generated memories of me when I had been alive.

Logical as it was, until this day I have still despised the arrangement and yet, my greater love for her ensured that I did what was in her best interests. The one that I loved would never know suffering as I did, I vowed. But yet, without my presence in her life, I had been unable to prevent the directions she took and the path she chose to follow.

I jerked awake as Gushoshin tapped my arm impatiently. I had dozed off on the seat of the bus, my head leaning against my curled fist, supported by my elbow braced upon the arm rest. Naturally the bird got the window seat so that people's view of him would be obscured, not that it made much of a difference. I'd been certifiably annoyed at this arrangement. Not only was I prone to getting motion sick but also I was tired and wanted to lean my head against the glass in order to catch a bit of shuteye. Regardless, my uncomfortable posture had not been much of a hindrance when it came to snagging a short siesta. It had been a rough night. And even in my sleep I had been unable to escape from the thoughts that worried at the corners of my mind every hour since I had accepted this case.

I rubbed my forehead a little and smiled down at Gushoshin. His eyes were wide and curious.

"You were making noises in your sleep. Sounded like you were having a bad dream," he said as way of explanation, placing down the papers he had been studying in order to give me his full attention. "Sorry if it was actually a good dream."

I pulled my glasses off of my face, folded and placed them in my jacket pocket. 003 was snoozing in my lap and I lowered my hand to distribute a small brush to his ruffled feathers. He shivered and hooted in his sleep.

It had been a while since I had dreamt about the past. It didn't matter a great deal to me now and I preferred not to think about it when there was sincerely no point. It sounded like I was scraping for sympathy then and if there is one thing I hate its people feeling sorry for me. I was glad however that Gushoshin had woken me when he had. Any longer and the thoughts may have had a greater impact on me. I closed my eyes and looked at him, grinning cheerfully.

"Yeah… wasn't particularly a very nice dream." I elaborated, ruffling my hair a little. "I dreamt that I was stranded on the side of the road and this gorgeous man drove past in a car and offered me a lift. Then –"

"-he kidnapped you and took you back to his secret lair where a thousand scantily clad and comely youths proceeded to indecently touch and molest you and wouldn't let you free until each and every one had had their wicked way with you." Gushoshin finished for me with a roll of his eyes. "You used that excuse once for arriving late at work you twit! Good Lord the boss was ready to spit a kidney at that…"

"Not to mention what Tatsumi docked from my pay." I grumbled, trying to uncross my cramped legs without disturbing my sleeping pet. "He used my wit as an excuse to pilfer some extra change at my expense! The tightass…"

"Yes well… let that be a lesson to you as to why you shouldn't stay up late drinking at bars." My companion scolded, returning his attention to the notes before him. The bus grumbled beneath as and we slightly bucked from our seats as we vaulted a speed bump. I deduced that the driver was actually an ex-Formula 1 racer from the way that he hit the pedal to the metal and took the corners on two wheels.

You may be wondering at this point, just what it was exactly that I, rugged Kyotoite that I am, was doing on this bus. Well, I'll be glad to tell you.

I hadn't been expecting a grand welcoming to hail my return to Kyoto. I wasn't arrogant enough to believe that I was worthy of red carpet royalties, marching bands, loudspeakers and the like, no. Kyoto was my hometown, the place I had been born. The place I cherished most in the world.

It had been the place I had met my wife. The place I had married her. The place my body had been lain to rest when I passed away.

Unfortunately, Kyoto was a fairytale to me. An idealistic notion of a child's illusion. All things wonderful in my life centered and rose from the Ancient Capital. However, my real life existed in the neighboring city of Osaka; a city where women wore red and the streets never slept. There was no arguing with the invigorating nature of Osaka itself. Most people went there to find sex and sex certainly walked the streets in vast colonies of stained cigarette smoke and prolonging, yet usually un-orchestrated glances and consideration. In Kyoto you made eye contact and the connection was romantic. In Osaka you met the eye of someone and you were guaranteed that physical promise.

Real life is the acknowledgement that humans as a species obsess over sex and death. Osaka, whilst a fundamentally neat and tidy city in the light of day, portrayed the basic's of human obsession in the night. In Osaka, sex and death was part of everyday life. It was a reality and people started to take the concept casually. Such as I learnt to.

That was the reality I knew in Osaka. But Kyoto was my city of dreams, where irony had no objective basis with which to firmly ground itself. Whenever I was in Kyoto, I felt as though I were wandering in a dream. My senses were clouded with a light, translucent feeling. No aim was too farfetched. No goal too unattainable.

In essence, I was Kyoto and Kyoto was always going to be a part of me. Coming back to it made me feel as though I had never left it in a sense.

I suppose it's the same feeling some runaway's get when they finally return home. It's as though you are reentering your memories, reliving your childhood. Going home again when for so long you have been running from the place that loved you most. The place you realize that you love the most.

I still hadn't learnt any better. I still arrived in Kyoto that day with the same air-headed conception I always entertain. Despite what I was actually there to do, I would not allow Kyoto to be stained for me. Not for any reason you'd care to throw about. I was there to work but I also had an ulterior goal.

A goal that like most dreams you love to entertain but have very little hope of obtaining.

It had been there, sitting on the bus to the Kokakuro, that I finally realized something. Accepting this case had not been about discovery, it had been a journey of farewell. I had come to Kyoto to find a reason to leave it behind.

It was a sad and liberating thought.

Because honestly, what hope did I have with a man like Oriya Mibu? He was cultured and cerebral, beautiful and well spoken. Well, that's how I saw him at least. Me, well… I was just a lout from Osaka. What could he possibly see in me?

But regardless, I still had hope. I still believe in those dreams no matter how outlandish they appear. That's the magic of Kyoto!

I had dressed my best for the occasion. Green jacket, black turtleneck tee, black pants and red boots with a slight heel in order to refine the length of my legs a little. I'd gotten up early especially to wash and style my hair to full wavy perfection. I was wearing mascara. I had on my most expensive cologne. All in all, I felt and looked a million yen. At least… I thought that I did. And I was fairly confident that I was going to at least turn the samurai's eye at my arrival, if not provoke his attention completely.

That had been three hours ago.

When we'd gotten off of the plane, I had been expecting someone to be waiting to take us to the Kokakuro, since they had hired us for the investigation. Much to my disgust however, one well placed phone call to enquire about the lack of immediate transport confirmed that we were to make our own way there. Which would have been no deal on a bright and sunny day. However, as luck would have it, we had arrived on what possibly had to have been the most horrid day all year in Kyoto. It was pouring down. The sky was gray, the bus stop seat was wet and the bus splashed me when it pulled up to the curb.

So much for the effort I had spent on my hair and makeup.

Struggling up the bus isle I was horrified to suddenly find myself slipping on what I can only hope was an old egg roll. In a last ditch attempt to save myself (and my pride) I had grabbed a hold of a handy dandy pole which just happened to have freshly chewed gum stuck to it. Mortified naturally, I let go and the bus jerked into motion, sending me flying down the isle onto some poor aghast teenage boys lap. At first I guessed that he was pleased with the attention but upon realizing that I was actually a man, he went bright red and attempted to shove me into a neighboring seat on the opposite side of the isle. I managed to get halfway into the seat, when the bus hit a speed bump and I fell on the floor, managing to perfect my newly acquired hobo look, by plastering a couple of cigarette butts against my blond locks. After dislodging the wedgie of a lifetime I managed to finally crawl my way into the seat, where it came to my attention that I had left 003 and Gushoshin back at the last stop. So I then had to extract myself from the bus two stops away (much staring ensued) and stomp back to the shelter I had just vacated, in the downpour. The next bus that arrived a half hour later provided fewer shenanigans to which I was thankful. I'm not one to normally let such circumstances get the better of me and I was even able to laugh about it, once I managed to get to a seat in relative safety.

I _was_ a little irked though. We were running an hour outside the promised time. I looked a mess. Mibu-san wasn't likely to be turned on by some wet, shivering, spectacled moron trunching up to his doorstep with a cigarette butt wreathe adorning his gloriously frizzy head. The first half of the trip was spent hastily trying to rectify my condition but there was little that could be done about the state of my saturated clothes. Exhausted and fed up, I finally fell asleep when Gushoshin had assured me that he would wake me up when we'd reached the Kokakuro. I ascertained, after checking my watch, that I had been asleep for forty-five minutes.

"According to my calculations, we should be nearing our destination in the next twenty minutes." I informed my feathered friend. "Tell me, is there anything further regarding the specifics of this case that I should be notified about preceding our arrival?"

Gushoshin pulled a face. "Watari, don't try to sound intelligent. It reminds me of Reese Witherspoon when she tried to pretend that she was a lawyer in Legally Blonde."

I quirked an eyebrow. "That might offend me if I had some idea what you were talking about. Is that an American movie, perchance? The last Western movie I ever went to see was 'Under the Tuscan Sun.' And all I did was weep all over Tsuzuki's shoulder while he did what he could to comfort me."

Gushoshin tried to brush off this lighthearted comment but I could see for a split second that he was uncomfortable with my discreet suggestion. Office romances were always on the forefront of everyone's mind in the Judgment Bureau and many a time the suggestion of a possible liaison between Tsuzuki and I had been casually and not so casually brought up. Though the possibility of 'anyone' and Tsuzuki having a fling was nearly always a topic of conversation. Too bad the little Chastity Boy was completely unaware of his sex appeal. I'd tried to explain it to him once before, why other people found him attractive but I guess chemistry just isn't for everyone.

"Actually, something has emerged out of this file Tatsumi gave us to study." Gushoshin said, handing me over a sheet of paper. I slipped my glasses back on in order to read the minute print. "This is in regards to the girl that survived the attack."

My eyes widened but I immediately brought myself under control and tried to appear unaffected. "Yes, I do remember him mentioning that she survived a deep cut across the neck. I also recall that her attacker may have intentionally left her alive as her injuries were far less substantial than the other three girls." I lowered the page and caressed the crease in my chin as I thought this over. Leaving a victim alive was certainly a foolish move as she could provide a verifiable eyewitness account. What was the offenders' objective? Why bother to kill the others and leave just this one alive?

Gushoshin showed me the picture of her. The one that I loved. It was hard to look at her and remain practical when I could see so much that was familiar and once cherished by me. Her bruised and battered face would have been pretty under normal circumstances and she had a lovely wide mouth, the corners creased into a perpetual grin, much like my own. Her long wavy blonde hair was shiny and her brown eyes contained just the hint of a sparkle. As though she had a distinctly cheerful personality. She looked a little older than the age my body was maintained, which made sense considering that she was possibly around thirty-three years of age. I imagined that without the injuries, she would have been incredibly beautiful and warm in appearance. But now, her eyes were glazed as though she could only keep herself from crying just long enough for the photographer to capture her ruined face.

"You poor baby," I murmured, reluctantly allowing the Gushoshin to tuck the picture away again. "No one should have to go through something like that."

''_And you would understand better than anyone, wouldn't you Yutaka?"_

The bus disappeared into darkness.

For a moment I continued to sit there confused; wondering if the lights had simply gone out. However, it had been midday and even if the lights had gone out it could not have constituted for the darkness surrounding me. The interior of the bus, the occupants, Gushoshin and even 003 had simply disappeared from my sight. I remained in a sitting position even though the seat on which had been supporting my posterior had long since evaporated. Finally, I climbed to my feet and took a good look around. I was met only by the same familiar darkness no matter which way I turned. As inky black as a darkness ever could be.

No doorway. No point of return.

I thought of last night; the alleyway and the store that had dissolved into a disfigured otherworldly version of itself. "Oh crap… not this again." I gazed around, searching for some familiarity; anything to grasp onto that would make sense out of this madness. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, I was able to make out certain objects. A grandfather clock. A four poster bed. A doorway wreathed in wooden vines.

Crooked picture frames hanging from the walls. Cracks permeating out from the ceiling corners. The stench of sex hung heavy in the air like cheap perfume.

"No…" I whispered. It was impossible. I hadn't activated a plane shift. How could I have come to be here? I couldn't be here. I had escaped from this place forty-two years ago, with no intention of ever returning.

Yet here I was.

But something felt wrong. I walked over and touched the Grandfather clock. It was hard against my fingers, cold, real, existing. Yet it wasn't the same Grandfather clock that had always been there. The one that had once been stained in my own blood. This was like a copy; a picture that you might find in your own memory. It was a clock, but one that was too perfect, as if it were only placed there to represent a bookshelf, not to recreated it in perfect detail. To restore its likeness.

But why? What was the cause of such recreation? And why had I been summoned to it?

"Wa-ta-rii~saa~aaan…"

A voice issued out of the dark. A voice that dared to replicate itself also, a voice that echoed and twigged old feelings. I pushed my emotions to the side and allowed my hand to face outward, palm straight and middle two fingers pointed downwards whilst the others curled back. A mana property alighted within me and I was relieved to find that this realm had not the ability to bind my powers.

"_Obscured specter, define thy form, reveal thy essence from its dorm…_" I quoted. The incantation was intended to sweep aside the darkness and allow me to see who was manipulating the strings. Clearly however, the offender was of greater magical property than I and the desired effect was not achieved. The voice rightly laughed it off.

"So sorry! So sorry! Spells like that won't have any effect on me!" The light hearted voice sang, ringing musically in my ears. Sudden movement! Someone had appeared in the far corner from where I stood, leaning their back against the wall and looking in my direction. I heard their feet tapping against the floor.

I swiveled around; fingers branched in a defensive magical pose, only to once again be met by blackness. Somewhere, out in the dark, someone sniggered.

"Over hee~eere." It playfully beckoned. I held my breath as footsteps echoed through every surface, coming towards me. In my heart, I suppose I knew who would step out of that ink.

It still didn't prepare me enough to keep from exclaiming out loud.

His body seemed to meld with the shadows, allowing only his ivory skin to stand out against the blackness. As he came closer to me, I was reminded of every little reason I had for once turning to this creature and then again for my decision to run in the end. A huge broad shouldered middle aged man with tousled dirty blonde hair that flirted with the nape of his neck. A misleading lined and charismatic face, a wide mouth smiled at me in a way that I had once allowed myself to trust. In a way that had drawn many stupid idiots to his doorstep and bed. He wore a mocking expression on his face as he came closer to me. I suppressed the urge to back away, understanding full well that there was no place to run. There was no door or windows in this room.

There never had been.

I waited until he had stopped before me. His smile grew wider as he watched me tremble before him.

"Hello Watari-san." He said in his musical voice.

I didn't respond. At least, not verbally.

SMACK!

I hit him. The blow almost took his head off. It _would _have taken his head off if he had been a normal human. I was a Guardian and my physical strength, though failing me in life, surpassed that of normal expectations as an undead.

Its' knee's buckled and it fell backwards, clutching its' wounded cheek and glaring up at me. Only then did I see the illusion fall away; a trick played by my own mind. It was not that man at all but a teenage boy, with dirty blond hair and startlingly bright blue eyes. Eyes I had only ever known one person to possess…

"That hurt… Watari-san." He murmured, looking up at me with a bug eyed nonchalance, as though being beaten was not something that he were unfamiliar with. I backed off two steps, feeling something brush against the small of my back; a ripple, as though I had retreated upon the surface of water.

"You… why are you here?" I softly asked, looking about as the darkness appeared to undulate, bringing with it what sounded like the far off sounds of children in squalor. "What's happening…?"

"This place… this darkness… it plays tricks on people's minds…" The boy said, slowly bringing himself to his feet and dusting off the knees of his pants. "I apologize if I startled you, Watari-san… but there are only so few places that we could have this conversation."

"What do you want?" I whispered. It felt too much like a library, as though I were required to lower my voice.

The boy massaged his cheek, as though distracted by a far off thought. Now that he was so close, it was easier for me to get a better look at him. He had soft mousy brown hair with subtle blonde highlights, long slender legs and narrow hips. His face was warm and might have otherwise been described as expressive, if circumstances had allowed for it.

He wasn't dressed like he had been last night. Now, he was wearing clothes that were misleading in their juvenile nature; three quarter length pants and red sneakers. A loose fitting t-shirt with some meaningless pop icon blaring across the breast. His shoes tapped loudly against the wooden floor.

He was beautiful in the same way that Hisoka was. But he possessed a self-awareness that distinguished him from the kid. A confidence that allowed him to express himself in a more sexualized manner.

The boy shook his head and the longer strands of hair swept down across his neck. His expression relaxed gradually, until it took on a form that could only be called buoyant.

"You… you're the one I followed last night, aren't you?"

The boy smiled and seated himself on the edge of the bed. It was strange to see him relaxing on the object that had afforded me such horror in the past. It seemed kind of inappropriate.

"Nope!" He said, swinging his legs to and fro, as though perched on a swing rather than… well, _that _thing. "It was probably a me that wasn't me, if that makes any sense?"

It didn't. And I confess myself confused. This was long before we learnt of the mimic however.

"A you that… _wasn't _you?" I asked, wishing I didn't sound so fucking ignorant.

The kid merely smiled and looked around, taking in the beastly surroundings I knew all too well.

"So, this is the place that sticks in your memory the most." He said conversationally. I tried to steady my breaths, not to let the proximity of this nightmare location get the better of me. It felt too much like the walls were closing in. "Did something bad happen here, Watari-san?"

I ignored him. _Had _to ignore him. "What the hell do you want? Why on earth did you appear to me last night in Tokyo? And what the fuck was that strange… _place_ you sent me to?!"

The kid seemed annoyed. He wore a slightly furrowed brow. "I have already told you; who's to say who you saw last night?"

I heard a strangled whimpering. It was my brain about to explode. "So… you were there… and at the same time you weren't there. How silly of me to not understand." I wanted to leap across the room and shake the kid until his own brain rattled but I didn't want to risk getting any closer to that bed. Then I thought of something that could confirm my accusation. "You said your name –''

" – is Pandora." He said perkily, with a wide, silly smile. It was not at all like the seductive manner in which '_he'_ had spoken the night before. He looked up at me and in a split second his face burst into the most ridiculously perky grin I had ever seen outside of my own mirror. He actually giggled. "But not the Pandora you met last night, silly Watari! Like I said before!" He climbed to his feet and walked away from the bed, holding his hand out to me. I stared and didn't make a move to accept his palm. "Why do you hesitate? Don't you wanna see if I'm real or not?"

His large smile was so endearingly sweet that it pushed aside my initial concerns and gently took his hand. He seemed so familiar to me… Pandora smiled as we shook and then pulled me close into a hug. I blanched but to him the contact seemed perfectly natural, as though we already knew each other.

"This is my first time in Kyoto…" He squealed as he drew back, his grin growing even wider. "I came here looking for my Momma and Papa! I think my Momma's still here but… I don't know if my Papa is anymore. He's a little hard to find. He tends to move around a lot."

I smiled weakly as this clandestine kid happily related his family history to me in the midst of an alternate dimension that resembled a place where something… well… where something not particularly nice happened to me many years ago. I looked him over and chuckled a little to myself.

"My God… you look just like him."

His smile only lessoned slightly. "Like who?"

"Hiso –'' I held myself back at the last minute, knowing full well that invoking an undead's name could be disastrous if someone with higher powers got a hold of it. "Uh… I mean – someone I work with. It's amazing the similarity! Your hair, your face, your voice! You could be his twin! Just your clothes and –''

Something strange happened to Pandora at that moment. A few seconds earlier his nature had been positively friendly but before my eyes his expression became cold and clinical. I scratched my next word as I noticed the downward slope he had axed upon his brows.

"I'm not your Hisoka, Watari-san." He said. His voice turned completely carnal.

I stepped back a little, registering the sudden change in attitude. I'm not afraid to admit that I was a little worried. "O-of… of course not. You're Pandora, aren't you?"

Eventually, Pandora relaxed at my verification, his voice and actions becoming sensuous again. "That's right."

I grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze with my fingers. I didn't want to come across as some sort of intimidating bully but I'd had a gut full. I was tired and frustrated and sick of being jerked around all the time.

"Alright, enough of this shit. I think it's about time you gave me a straight answer."

Pandora smiled a little and then pulled himself from my grip with barely the minimalist of effort. He returned to his seat on the bed and glanced over at me merrily.

"I'm here to give you a fighting chance."

"A fighting chance?"

He continued to smile in that maddeningly calm and happy way; regardless of how serious he apparently took the situation to be. "I came here to warn you but to do so it was necessary to carve out this little notch between the Casual and the Acasual space in order to have this conversation. And unfortunately, I could only create something that held a particular stance in your memory. Hence, this room. I apologize but I cannot risk my master finding out what I have done."

"Master? Then… that would make you a -''

'_A demon's whore. A Pet.' _That was what I had intended to say. But Pandora beat me to it before I had a chance to verify it.

"Yes, Watari-san. It would make me a Pet." He grunted, his smile only wavering slightly to show his dissatisfaction. He flashed me some pearly whites. "Someone once said that it is better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path. And the legions of Mitkiel are certainly not far from that."

I'd never heard of this name before and I'm sure my ignorance registered on my features. Pandora smiled a little sadly at me. I could see that the boy was miserable underneath his false façade of exhilaration but there was little that could be done for those that a demon had chosen to keep as pets. To interfere meant that the demon itself was likely to rock up to your doorstep and knobble you good for the effort. I'd known it to happen.

My fingers were poised in an offensive pose, my muscles tensed if trouble appeared imminent. But a fight did not seem to be what Pandora's intention.

"I wanted to tell you something, Watari-san." He cooed, lifting himself from the bed and walking towards me. I made to step back but in a flash my skull was caught in one of his hands and he pulled me towards him violently. I cried out at the force he was exerting on my cranium, my voice withering into a strangled whimper as his other arm encircled my body, pressing me against his own.

I shuddered, resisting the urge to fight against him. The action had not been violent; more so the act of a child that didn't realize its' own strength. The kid merely seemed to want physical contact. I put my arms hesitantly around his middle and he sighed, shifting his face into the crook of my shoulder and clutching the back of my jacket hard between his fists.

"My father used to hold me this way…" He mused, meeting my eyes with his own. "That was a long time ago. I like being held this way, the way it was before I became an Unclean."

I could feel tears in my eyes and he noticed. He brushed them away with the curve of his thumb.

"I think you miss it too, Watari-san." He whispered. "I think you understand what it is to be without this. … I… wish that we could… give it back to each other. But that's kind of impossible, isn't it? We never even came to possess what the other wants. My parents aren't where they used to be and yet I'm chasing this pipe dream around and around in circles. Just the way you are chasing her…"

I pulled away but Pandora didn't seem to be offended. I watched as he turned with a smile of pure pleasure, as though I had confirmed his words without even speaking aloud. He began to walk away from me, the forefront of his body bending to the shadows until he was all but indiscernible. When he reached the far wall he paused and then looked over his shoulder at me.

"_'And the dead were judged according to their works, as recorded in the books. And the sea gave up the dead that were in it. Death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them and all were judged according to what they had done. Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire and anyone whose name is not found written in the book of life was thrown into the Lake of fire_.' This is the Judgment of the Dead."

I felt the very blood freeze in my veins.

"What are you talking about?" My voice had all the substance of dried grass; too easily blown astray. Even easier to catch alight. With a soft shushing noise, Pandora slipped back into darkness.

"My coils tighten and keep you my own. He is contained for now at least but his legion is acting fast to gather up the pieces that have been scattered to the wind..." His voice sounded grim. "He that releases the burning ring of fire, would wipe clean the world. With the slate clean, he would command a new kingdom of his own creating. … I am sorry to bring you such bad news Watari. I truly am. But I thought you should know, now that you are a part of this yourself. And this way, you may be able to do something to stop this terrible thing from happening. _Please. _I no longer can…"

With a breathy sigh, Pandora departed leaving me with the terrible insinuation, bequeathed in his parting words.

There was a blinding flash of light and I was dropped right back to where I had been when the vision started. My hand registered the warm touch of 003's feathers and the dull light from outside the bus windows. My entire body was shaking, like I was wracked by a chill, inside and out. A chill that owed nothing to my wet clothes.

"Hey, are you okay?" Gushoshin's sharp voice asked from beside me. I could feel his eyes focused on my face. "It looked like you blacked out there for a moment."

I allowed my hand to loosen its' death grip on 003's feathers, my fingers slowly sliding away like liquid silk. Somehow, the cold wrap of weather outside didn't seem nearly as bad as it had before. I turned to my companion, on the verge of voicing my fears when a sudden thought struck me and I started to laugh. Gushoshin raised an eyebrow at me.

"Watari-san?"

I couldn't tell him. That would have involved too many incriminating details about my past and I wasn't ready for _that _to come to light yet.

I had no idea what this Pandora had meant, with his cryptic talk of the Lake of Fire, nor would I even begin to fathom the likelihood of the worlds imminent destruction until much later. I did not even connect it to my current case and as such, I pushed this strange occurrence to the back of my mind and buried it deep in a binding darkness, ready to be perused at a later date. Most likely when it was worn and dusty.

The landscape zoomed past at a hundred miles an hour. I let it go.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Twenty minutes later, Gushoshin, 003, our begrudged luggage and I, arrived at our destination. Though much of Japan is now Westernized, most of the greater area of Kyoto remains largely unchanged from traditional times and the truth can be said of the street in which we now found ourselves.

Modern _geiko_ or whatever title the women in Oriya's employ preferred to refer to themselves by, still lived in traditional group houses called _okiya_, which were situated in districts known as _hanamachi_, or 'flower towns'. _Geiko _is a specific term coined by those of us accustomed to the Kyoto dialect and it means precisely the same thing as Geisha, you understand. However, so far as I knew, the women in Oriya's service were not honest to goodness geisha, in so far as the term itself implied. But I, in my most impoverished lifestyle am probably the worst person to try and explain such matters to you and in all fairness, it would probably be terrible impolite of me to even try. What I can say with utmost surety is that despite the specifics of their employment, these women were treated by Oriya and their 'clients' with respect, dignity and equity. I knew that some of the women had achieved financial independence from the _okiya _as it were and lived separately but chose to maintain ties with the _Kokakuro _for reasons of personal benefit; such as the arrangement of financial matters, the loaning out of kimono or… why, I couldn't say for sure what else. I imagine Oriya might be able to explain such things were a tad more clarity than I am able to.

_Kokakuro _was the title of the particular '_okiya' _or rather 'bordello' in which Oriya was the proprietor. I'm not sure if there was any specific meaning behind this but the word _kuro_ for 'black' somehow worked itself into the title; Therego there may have been some vague reference to darkness or nighttime or some such thing. So far as the file had informed me, prior to the murders there were eight geiko residing on site and one who lived independently but still maintained ties to the okiya. There was one receptionist who handled all the phone calls and organized the girls' appointments and schedules, three maids; two young and one middle-aged and a male cook. The older maid and the cook did not live in _Kokakuro _but resided nearby, as did the professional dresser and hairstylist who came on an almost daily basis to prepare the girls for evening events and the like. Oriya Mibu, as the proprietor, also lived on site and served the job that was traditionally filled by the _okaa-san_, or 'Mother' of the okiya; who was customarily an ex-geisha herself. Oriya of course was no such thing and it was quite unusual actually, for a male to be filling such a role. It was a family obligation, I came to understand later, as well as an honor that he had inherited following the passing of his fathers elder brother. In so saying, acting as the proprietor, Oriya had the responsibility of overseeing the care of the _geiko _and other staff, organizing financial matters and distribution, maintaining the upkeep of the _okiya _and goodness knows what else. The file didn't go into great depth and my understanding of his position still remains limited to this day. What I did grasp however, was that he was an immensely busy man and very influential and powerful as a result. He was also very wealthy, though he never spoke of having money and hadn't accumulated a number of nice things such as one with a generous windfall might otherwise have done. The girls on the other hand seemed to do much better by their patrons, which I suppose is fair considering what is being asked of them.

Following the murders however, three of the geiko were now deceased and one was hospitalized. The secretary had resigned, as had the maid who had discovered the bodies. One might say that Oriya would have done well with fewer mouths to feed but truthfully, life in the _hanamachi _district isn't so dire as it might have seemed in the past. Finances have changed a lot since the olden days, so that an okiya could have as many as a dozen or more _geiko_, as well as the maids beneath its' roof and still pull a reasonable profit. As for _Kokakuro_, there was no place in Kyoto quite like it; the geiko there were the playthings of the rich and powerful and did very well by their clientele. It was only after I had gotten to know them better did I learn that at least one or two honest to goodness geiko resided in _Kokakuro _and one of these women was perhaps the second or third most successful and popular geisha in all Japan. She had been for some years, the mistress of Japan's foreign affairs minister and these profits had sustained _Kokakuro _handsomely and continued to do so.

_Kokakuro _was just about as traditional and old-fashioned a place as you could expect to find in all of Kyoto and was exclusive to only the most prestigious clientele. You might assume then, that it was located in what is popularly referred to as the center of _karyukai _('flower and willow world') which is of course Gion Kobu; where the geisha tradition is at its' strongest in the modern day. This however is not true. _Kokakuro _in fact, resides on the other side of the river to the famous Gion, in the lesser known geisha district of Pontocho. Now, I have spent a great deal of my life in Kyoto but I have never been so profitable as to have ever patronized any of the geisha establishments. My father however, had been a successful enough business man and was fortunate enough to be invited as a guest to a number of parties in which geiko had entertained. These had always been held in the Gion district, which sprawled over many winding blocks. Pontocho, on the other hand, lay to the other side of the Kamo River and could be reached crossing the Shijo Avenue bridge. Instead of covering a wide area, Pontocho consisted of a single long alley that stretched along the side of the river. Most people seemed to think that it wasn't so glamorous a district as the famous Gion Kobu but I saw in it the same kind of understated beauty and elegance a dragonfly possesses; long and streamline in shape and shining with all manner of brilliant colors when least expected. I thought the way that the weeping willows gracefully arched over the rivers edge to caress the water was quite lovely and the wooden verandah's that stood on stilts in the water seemed all at once decadent and sweetly reminiscent. I felt several small jumps in my heart which said that I was home and the grieving, tiring voices of the city in which I had so long resided had been left behind. Kyoto had always brought to me a sense of peace and disassociation. I'd never been to Pontocho, so I can't pretend that it was a homecoming of sorts but I can say that I had a little tingle in my heart that told me I was in familiar territory once more and the relief at resting back upon this was all too much like stepping backward into your mothers arms, with no sense of shame or embarrassment. All at once, I became myself again, despite the egregious task that had brought me here in the first place.

_Kokakuro_ had been one of the first or second oldest buildings in all Kyoto and had, in its' heyday, resided at the epicenter of the township. Now, after the relocation of the roads and the bridge, it was one of the central houses along the line of the Pontocho district and after disembarking from the bus, we made our way there in less than five minutes. It was a beautiful, well maintained building with a simple sign out front that did not flaunt itself grandly, I suppose so as to not attract unwanted attention. By this time, the rain had eased off a bit and this was more than enough to reconfirm my belief in God.

"Thankyou God!" I yelled at the sky. 003 hooted and spun around my head in a merry figure eight. Gushoshin just stared at us like we were idiots.

"That's right. Just draw the attention of the entire street to us." He grumbled, like the sight of a levitating, talking chicken wasn't enough incentive for people to stare anyway. Besides, the street was completely empty. Hanamachi districts only truly came alive at night. All sane rational people were inside, doing paperwork, sleeping or, if they were lucky, cuddling up to their loved ones and enjoying indoor pursuits of a more profligate nature. I had a sudden, shameless fantasy about a certain gorgeous swordsman and I curled up before an old stone fire place minus our clothes and sipping light blonde lager. Smiling at one another as we spilled it across our skin and laughed at some wonderful joke I'd just told. The image was so good that I decided there and then that it was time I got better acquainted with the object of my daydream.

"Well, let's go meet our employer then!" I sang, floating towards the front entrance of the Kokakuro. Literally floating that is. My feet were three inches above the ground. "I'm sure he's awaiting our humble arrival!"

A nasty thought suddenly occurred to me. Something that I had not considered before I was faced with the amenable prospect of it. Something so obvious I could only begrudge myself for being so ignorant.

What if Oriya wasn't single? I had no certifiable proof that he was unattached! It wasn't as though I had examined his fingers for a wedding band the night we arrived at Kokakuro, seeking answers to Tsuzuki's location. I had been somewhat distracted at the time.

Maybe he was like Hue Hefner and had a whole heap of girlfriends? He _did _run a bordello after all and he was certainly handsome enough to get away with it. My features sank into a despairing cloud as I envisioned three buxom blonde beauties hanging off of his arms in skimpy clothing and sporting feminine assets I could only dream of having in the event that I ever successfully completed my sex change potion.

What a depressing possibility! Why hadn't I thought about this yet?! Why would a man of his age, of his status of his beauty be single and available to someone like _me? _So excruciatingly _normal_ and… non-buxom?

Why, I didn't even have any proof that Oriya was interested in men! I seriously doubted that he was gay… and there was nothing to suggest that he was bisexual… or even remotely bi-curious! And even if he was, he could have his pick of men and I'd certainly be right down near the bottom of the barrel. I felt suddenly and acutely depressed.

I hadn't forgotten that I was mad with Oriya for failing to arrange us transportation. However at this point, the nervous anxiety of finally introducing myself face to face with my randomly selected 'True Love' was completely corroding what was left of my brain.

So, when Oriya Mibu finally answered the door and was met by two birds and a drooling, grinning moron, I did not condemn him for his initial reaction. (That of flinching and reaching for where his sword might have otherwise been) After a brief collective examination of my trademark hair however, I believe he came to the conclusion that we were the idiots sent by the Ministry to investigate the murders.

"So," said he. "You must be the fellows sent by the Ministry to investigate the murders."

See? I just have this natural gift of being able to read people. I did however start to believe in wishful thinking when I saw him giving me the once over. Then I realized that my turtleneck was completely plastered to my still very much-wet body, which would cause just about anyone to stare.

"Yep!" I declared, pulling my jacket in tighter around me modestly. He arched a perfect slender eyebrow. "Yutaka Watari, Gushoshin and 003 at your service, handsome!"

I immediately felt a little embarrassed for giving myself over so unashamedly to my emotions and I thought for one dreadful second that I had overstepped my mark and offended him. Fortunately, Oriya was a Kyoto boy so he pretty much knew how to handle himself. He cast a scolding look at me, the type people usually reserve for men who think they're being awfully clever when in fact they're not. He was dressed in a comfortable but slimming summer weight yukata that allowed just the briefest of glimpses of a well-toned chest and long, muscular legs. I didn't even try to resist the urge to eye him up there on the doorstep. His long dark brown hair was tied back at the very base, allowing sensual wisps to glance about his chiseled features, which possessed the barest hint of femininity, particularly around his sumptuous pouty mouth. I must have looked like some ridiculous fangirl the way I lost myself at staring at him in lusty infatuation. His robes were daring shades of reds, orange and yellow and decorated with a simple pattern of wagon wheels and wheat stalks to tie in to the summer motif. But he wasn't flighty at all. His smile was ruthlessly intelligent. I was in love.

"Must we go through the tiresome formalities?" He said, trying to ignore 003 who seemed to have taken an immense liking to a particular strand of his hair. "Why don't we just cut through these pleasantries? There's little time for dalliances after all."

He gave me a wry half smile and my heart skipped a beat. It certainly wasn't the right kind of incentive to get me to behave myself.

"Well," I said as flirtatiously as you can say with one word. "We could just skip it."

Oriya nodded as though this response was both satisfying and appropriate. "Good." He said. His full lips twisted into a slow, warm smile as he dipped his head forward in a deep, old fashioned bow. I felt my breath catch in my throat, giving myself over temporarily to the conviction that maybe, just maybe, I had pegged Oriya for who he was. Right from the get go.

"Welcome to Kokakuro." He said, speaking in that same throaty manner with which he had heralded myself Tatsumi and Hisoka our very first visit here. His eyes met mine and I could see there in the depths, the smallest flash of green. "My name is Oriya Mibu. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay. My dear Shinigami from the world beyond."

_**-EC-**_

**A/N: **I gave a little extra information about where _Kokakuro _was situated because it occurred to me as I was reviewing this chapter, that I really hadn't gone into a great deal of detail concerning it. I hope you liked the revision dear readers! If you feel so inclined, please leave a review. I always appreciate hearing any support, advice, idea's or constructive criticism from those that enjoy my work!

**Oriya: **So she says but I bet she actually sobs herself to sleep if anyone were to say that they didn't like one tiny aspect of her work.

**Muraki: **Yes, I don't know whether you're just terribly vain or self-conscious!

**Hickok: **(Bottom lip trembles) Shut-up! I don't have to listen to this sort of shit from you! (Wipes nose on sleeve)

**Watari: **Ewww, for the love of God; use a tissue like a normal person! (Passes her a box of tissues) Wiping your nose on your sleeve is such a Tsuzuki thing to do.

**Tsuzuki: **It is not! (Own lip starting to tremble) Don't be mean to me!

**Oriya: **Well done, now you've got him going as well. We'll need two boxes of tissues in here before the night is over. (Hands over his handkerchief to Tsuzuki who blows his nose noisily) And tuck your lip in before someone comes and sits on it.

**Count: **(Chuckles creepily and makes a clucking noise at Tsuzuki)

**Tsuzuki: **(Sucks his lip in so quickly that it makes a sluicing noise)

**Saki: **(Waves) Thanks again for reading everyone! We'll see you in chapter eight!

**Watari: **(Pumps fist) Hells yeah! More fun at the _Kokakuro_ for Watari-san!

**Oriya: **(Slumps down face first onto the table) I feel exhausted already…


	8. Oriya: Stilled and Silent

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Tis not mine. Tis never was mine. Tis never will be mine. Only tis mine fantasies will tis be mine. But tis fanfic tis mine and anyone who tries to steal it will be walloped by my Animen sex slaves. You have been warned.

**Note: **This is the first chapter from Oriya's POV! Well, I must say it's about time! The poor guy was dying to get an opinion in edgewise, so at long last here he is for your enjoyment!

**All New Random and wonderful Hickok notes – **

**-Shenai's friend Sascha says: **"That the tango was originally a dance between two men!"

**Watari: **Well isn't that something? Hey 'Ri! Wanna do the tango with me?

**Oriya: **(Sweatdrops) Uh… not right now Kitten. … Maybe later…

**Watari: **(Shrugs and then turns his attention to the readers) Herro everyone! It's me again; Yutaka Watari welcoming you to a Sim's inspired new chapter of Dark Adaptation!

**Oriya: **_'Sim's Inspired?' _Now why does that have me worried?

**Watari: **Aww, you shouldn't be worried Ori! (Pinches his cheek) The Sim's is a lot of fun! See? I even bought a copy myself! (Holds it up) Let's play together Mibu-san! You'll love it!

**Oriya: **I have not yet descended so low into the depths of social degradation that I feel the compulsion to surrender my life to a computer game, you four eyed- (Looks over Watari's shoulder at the computer screen) – Hold on a second…. Those characters look like you and me.

**Watari: **^^ Yep! They love each other just as much as you and I do Ri-chan! (Smiles benignly as Sim-Watari takes advantage of Sim-Oriya in the heart shaped hot tub.)

**Oriya: **Wait… why did they disappear under water? (Stares and listens and suddenly goes bright red.) THAT'S DISGUSTING!! Yutaka Watari, you turn that off right this minute!! (Tries to cover Watari's eyes)

**Watari: **Ohh – but _Ori! _I haven't even had a chance to show you the vibrating heart bed yet!

**Oriya: **THE WHAT!?

**Watari: **Uh…. On _that _note… I think it's time to actually sink your teeth into the meaty center of this here chapter. We hope you enjoy! (Bows and scene fades out) Hey! Who turned out the lights?!

**Additional note: **Newly revised Chapter 8. Not much is different. Oriya's way of speaking is more in touch with how I have written him in later chapters, obviously the kiss did not occur as it did in the previous incantation and in fact, there will be no intimacy between these characters until much later. Other than that; general tidy up and title change. I hope it reads better everyone!

**Hereby my doubts rest stilled and silent evermore**

_I don't know you but I want you  
All the more for that  
Words fall through me and always fool me  
And I can't react_

_You have suffered enough and what with yourself  
It's time that you won_

_Take this sinking boat and point it home  
We've still got time, raise your hopeful voice  
You had the choice, you've made it now_

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me  
And I can't go back  
Moods that take me and erase me  
And I'll paint it black_

_Games that never amount  
To more than themselves  
Will play themselves out_

_Take this sinking boat and point it home  
We've still got time, raise your hopeful voice  
You had the choice, you've made it now_

_"Falling Slowly" ~ **The Frames**_

**_x_**

_"I read and walked for miles at night along the beach, writing bad blank verse and searching endlessly for someone wonderful who would step out of the darkness and change my life. It never crossed my mind that that person could be me."_ ~ **Anna Quindlen**

**x**

**Oriya**

The Shinigami wavered unsteadily on his feet. His eyes were almost bugging from his head. He seemed to me a little stunned.

"Ah… em… shreen neeble nah."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "I beg your pardon?"

The levitating chicken (I took this in my stride but it still gave unnerved me considerably) made what I assumed was a dismissive sound. It sounded like he was trying to lay an overly large egg.

"I think he's happy to be here." He elaborated, crossing his feathered arms over his chest. The pint-sized owl (Whom I assumed was 003, though Yutaka Watari had not been very direct in his introductions) gave a very attention-grabbing hoot as he circled my head much like a bothersome bug. It took all my willpower not to swat the little bugger.

The Shinigami rocked back and managed to extract himself from my eye contact, which seemed to have left him reeling. I had directed every spare inch of my ability through the cords of his body, heightening his receptiveness to my advancements. Through these unknown interactions, I was able to discern just what actions I might subtly take to best draw his attention, what would appeal to him, what would turn his head. I smiled with amusement as he glanced back at me, made tentative eye contact and tried to spin away so quickly that he wobbled as though he'd just spent the last few minutes spinning in circles. A bashful grin broke out across his pale pink lips and he rubbed his forehead dazedly. He only now seemed to be coming back to his senses.

"Well…" He mused with a slight chuckle. He touched his fingers to his mouth as though I had surprised him in the act of kissing him. "Well, um I… I mean… uh…" He straightened his spine and seemed to steel himself, turning his eyes to the side, preventing me from directing my Influence at him. "What I mean to say is… it's nice to meet you too. Looking forward to working with you."

That made two of us. Seems that this was going to be more interesting than I had imagined. I flashed what I hoped was a winning smile and reached over to shake his hand. Watari took exception to my actions however and stepped away, holding his palms up in the typical pose of resistance. His facial expression was however hesitant. He'd liked my casual flirtations, that much was obvious but now he was attempting to impress some standards upon me. Ho-hum.

"Um… Mibu-san…"

I felt my face pinch together in distaste. "Please, I insist you dismiss the formalities. Using my family namemakes me sound more important than I am. Just Oriya will suffice."

Watari's own expression relaxed and I could detect that he was one of those people capable of adjusting casually into new relationships. Despite his coquettish act, I didn't get the impression that there was anything timid or demure about this Yutaka Watari in the slightest.

"Okay then, _Oriya_." I guess he liked the way my name sounded, because he smiled. "Now… I would be lying if I said I didn't mind working with a nice looking fellow like you –''

Seems as though I wasn't the only one who knew how to turn on the charm. I was secretly flattered but kept my body language and expression impartial. Better off to appear as though I had the upper hand in our acquaintanceship.

" – _but-_'' I was met by his index finger pointed directly at my nose, beyond which his body language spelt out one thing; _Pay Attention. _His dark eyebrows (At first I thought that he had bleached his hair but have since learnt otherwise. This was quite a feat, even for a halfie) were furrowed over his honey brown eyes in an effort to look stern. It didn't work. He just looked lovable. "- For the record '_Just Oriya', _I'm still mad at you!"

My eyes widened in conjunction to my earnest feelings of confusion. "Mad at me?" He nodded. "Why I'm disappointed in myself. You've only just arrived here and already you're mad at me? What could I have possibly done to offend you in such a short space of time?"

"Well, okay – how about not arranging us transportation from the airport, for one?" He snapped, pressing down on his thumb with his index finger. "On a day like this, I thought you may have been just a little more considerate than that! Look at me! I'm soaked to the bone!"

"Yes… I did notice that…" I mused, purposefully sliding my eyes along his body, starting with his face and moving all the way down to his feet and back. He snorted as though he were actually appalled by the attention and literally snapped his sodden coat about his body. Holding the halves together with one hand, he freed the other and shook his finger at me again.

"Now don't you talk dirty," He said. "I won't listen to that."

I chuckled softly to myself, feeling my inside elbow start to itch on account of how unreservedly perverted I sounded. "Oh, I don't believe I have even started with you yet, Shinigami-san. Do give me some credit." I scratched indolently at my arm, pretending as though nothing bothered me in the least. Truthfully, I am not one of those individuals to whom this blatant behavior comes easily. In case it wasn't obvious, I'm what you might refer to as 'old fashioned'. I wasn't at all accustomed to conscious flirting, never mind directing my attentions towards a _man_. This all seemed quite unnatural and awkward to me, though Watari didn't seem to notice. Or particularly care.

His face got hard and it was easy to tell that he wasn't adapted to such harsh emotions. I didn't know much about this Watari character but what I could see was this; he had a nice smile and when he did smile his entire face lit up and he was ten times more appealing than with a sullen expression. Frowning seemed to age him. More so than that; it was an insult to his warm features.

"Two; you requested specifically that I would not be sent to investigate this case! And now you greet me so warmly? What's all that about? I'm just a little confused."

Ah, I had forgotten about that little specific of the Employment details. As I told Muraki, it had been nothing personal. I was not harboring an unprovoked discrimination against the Shinigami simply from the brief impression I had of him those three months ago. I didn't even understand the truth myself. It had been a call from above.

How was I supposed to convey this without offending him though? Oh decisions, decisions. I figured that the best explanation would be to thread a web of carefully strung half-truths and 'not-quite-truths.' I sighed and scratched the back of my head, delving my fingers into the long strands of brown hair. I knew this action had caused my yukata to fall astray revealing a substantial portion of my chest. And from a brief glance I knew Watari was having a good hard look. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable to know I was being subjected to such apt attention as this. Why, he was hardly what you would call subtle about it.

"It's a long story, blondie." I said gruffly. He replied with a look that basically implied that he had all day to listen. "Honestly…? …I was simply worried you were going to be a distraction."

He arched an eyebrow. "A distraction?"

"Yes, quite. You'll put my girls out of work if I perch your face at the front desk." I flashed some teeth to demonstrate that I was simply having fun and meant no harm. To my surprise, he actually laughed at my words, his body rocking gently to reveal his amusement.

"Mibu-san!" He chuckled. "That's very kind of you, but you did state on the form – ''

"Not ta send the blond one? I apologize fer that. Don't take offense." This was actually true and I felt my body posture relax in coordination to my placated conscience. "I believed that phrasing it like that would give ya more incentive to stay away. An _okiya_… well… just understand that I had my reasons. But it has _nothin' _to do with who ya are as a person. I don't know ya well enough ta make that sort of judgment yet. As for the manner in which I have conducted myself this morning… well!" I felt my lips hitch up into a crooked little half smile. "It's only courteous to treat a guest with respect. And let's just suppose that I heard it from a reliable source that a certain someone the ministry was sending here today may have taken a shine to the _wakkadana_ of said establishment. Considering that only three of you turned up and two of you aren't exactly my type… I thought what could it hurt to be friendly?"

I could never accuse Watari of being a fool from that point on. As soon as I mentioned a 'certain someone' his head dropped and he gave an exasperated little nod.

"Muraki rang you." He said. It wasn't a question. "I was wondering why he disappeared into the kitchen for so long. Now I understand." The blond raised his head and sighed wearily, shaking the longer tresses of hair out of his sight. "God I must look like such an idiot to you. That's all you have to say? 'What could it hurt?' I suppose you think I'm some sort of easy ignoramus 'cause of the way I act. Well I'm tellin' ya here and now, don't bother thinking you can hoodwink me at every turn, because I won't have it! I'm not one of those two-dimensional physicality distracted politicians you've got wrapped around your little finger. I'm a Shinigami, here to do a very important job and that's something I take _very _seriously indeed, make no bones about it. So, do us both a favor and don't mess with me like that, 'coz it wont end pretty, mate."

Ooo-ookay… There was certainly an area of sensitivity there_…_ Watari clearly wanted there to be no misinterpretations on my part, on account of what Muraki may have told me. I raised my hands in mock surrender, suppressing the laughter threatening to spill out over my lips. To express my amusement as such, would most likely not win me any favors.

"Take it easy, _cher_." I soothed. "I wasn't thinking that at all. As you'll no doubt learn during your time here, I'm not what you would call a terribly confident man. I didn't mean any offense."

Watari seemed satisfied with that. However he still had his serious face on, which meant he wasn't quite ready to dismiss his charges against me. I figured that the best thing to do was to let him get it all out in the open so we could resolve it here and now. It would make things less complicated later.

"Mibu-san," He stated. "I'm not going to lie. I don't know anything about you and I sure as hell would like to change that. _B__ut, _and you make sure you heed this mister: There are three dead girls inside and one girl who has been through hell and back. I know you didn't miss that. And until I'm done with my initial examination of the bodies, I must ask that out of respect for the deceased you keep such behavior to a minimum. Are we clear?"

It was as effective as if he had dunked my head in a bucket of ice water. I took a step back, reminding myself of the cold hard reality. My girls, my daughters in all rights but blood were lying dead, _murdered _just beyond these walls. What in the gods names had I been thinking?

I was dancing a dangerous line. My purposeful ignorance was borderline the carnal lack of empathy Muraki possessed. Something I swore I would never allow my soul to steep itself in.

I could feel my face crumple and I placed one hand delicately over my eye, wishing and not for the first time that I didn't have a tendency to become overly emotional. Every time I thought of what Muraki had become… every time I considered my own hand in every death he had bestowed…

Truthfully I tried not to think too deeply about it. I knew that if I did, I was likely to be driven mad by the implications. I didn't want to compromise the person I thought myself to be, that others mistook me to be at a mere glance.

I sighed, my chest rising and falling heavily. I immediately began to feel calmer. "You're right." I raised my eyes and nodded, registering consciously my cold mask snap into place. I was a walking Noh performer with a hundred masks poised eternally between expressions, none of which was an extreme dictation. "I apologize, Watari-san. I should know better..."

I turned my head a little, purposefully pulling myself up short from getting all weepy eyed again. I felt my chest tighten; a growing tension escalating across my heart. Lack of sleep and the pressure I had been under was finally taking its hold on me I guess. The Shinigami's face softened considerably, revealing that the dark expression he'd been wearing seconds earlier was as authentic as any one of my own Noh masks. I don't think he had the capacity to maintain the emotion of anger for any considerably length of time.

"I'm sorry." He said, reaching over to lightly touch my arm. I could feel the warmth through the sleeve of my yukata. "I didn't mean for that to sound so condescending. I know these girls are dear to you. It's just that sometimes in the event of death, people tend to try any way and every way to forget, if even just for a moment. That's about the last thing you and I need to contend with right now. You understand?"

I melted a little at the touch of his hand. I'd always been a sucker for a blond and he was certainly something to look at.

I smiled a little and chanced a slow wink. "You've got nothing to apologize for Watari-san. Now… if you and the… garden fowl would care to follow me – '' I got an insulted 'hmph' from the… _Gushoshin, _for my comment. " – then I'll show you to your room."

Watari smiled in a sort of relieved fashion and adjusted his circular glasses. "At your service sir!"

_Down boy. _It was all well and good to chastise me about my behavior but it didn't seem to stop him from flirting. I didn't realize how much more difficult my task had become, until my conscience kicked in. Muraki must have known that. It had not concerned me in the slightest when I'd been confronted with that boy three months ago. I hadn't a shred of remorse for the two barbaric slices I had made across his chest. I had forsaken normal mortal empathy, in the verity that my opponent had not actually been a mortal. Whereas my own cuts would have taken a few days to heal at least, what would ordinarily have been lethal strikes to the boy, healed in a matter of seconds. This allowed me to banish a considerable portion of my conscience during that dual. The circumstances now were hardly any different. The only real variation was that rather than a volatile physical attack, I would strike at his mentality. I would tear his soul in the act of seducing him.

But unlike the boy I had engaged, for some vague reason, I couldn't summon the same impassiveness with this man before me. I put it down to the fact that it had been easier with the boy because he had been certifiably bitchy. He'd made it simple for me to rough him up.

Watari knelt down and wrapped his fingers around the handle of one of his bags. The contents must have been heavy because I could see his bicep muscle straining. He noticed me staring and smiled apologetically.

"Scientific equipment." He said as way of explanation. "You know; laptop, chemicals, data processor, all that jazz?"

It went a little over my head but I nodded anyway. There were two other bags and I pointed them out.

"What's in those? More scientific crap?"

Watari grinned and waved a hand dismissively. "Oh no, no! That one there is my luggage and those are a few texts which may prove useful in the case. The case specifics are in there too." He indicated a manila folder just visible, peeking out from the swollen zipper. I wasn't surprised to see that the bag holding Watari's wardrobe was the biggest of the three. The poor Gushoshin was probably expected to wear the same outfit day in day out.

Displaying that dapper gentleman like manner that's made me famous all over Kyoto, I strode on over to the struggling blonde and easily hefted the bag containing the science crap out of his fingers. I hooked the strap over my shoulder and grabbed the other two bags, lugging them over towards the entrance of the Kokakuro. I glanced over my shoulder and smiled.

"Well come on then. Don't stand there looking stupid."

Watari shook himself visibly and raced up to my side, gripping my forearm in the manner of an insistent child.

"No really Mibu-san! I can't let you carry my bags for me, it would be too much!"

I laughed at his distress and shook the longer tresses of my hair out of my face. It had been a long time since I had actually laughed at anything. I guess I've gotten a bit too serious for my own good.

"Think of it as retribution for not arranging you transportation, Cher. Now come on inside, you're all blocking the doorway."

"But! Eh… just let me take at least one bag!" Watari insisted, grabbing the strap on my shoulder and tugging persistently. I pulled away from him.

"Don't worry, I've got it."

"No really!" TUG TUG.

"It's no trouble, blondie. Just let go and get your ass inside!"

"I couldn't! That's far too generous!" TUG TUG.

My body was starting to tilt dangerously to one side, the weight of the bag sliding down from my shoulders to my upper arm. I was practically trying to run to the room before I upended all the luggage onto Watari, who was continually tugging at the strap much to my protests. Both physical and verbal. I countered a fairly insistent wrench with the side of my foot, pushing him away as I would a small dog humping my leg. He rebounded back a moment later like a playful kitten and wrapped his fingers around the handle. I bunted him with the bag in my hand; the one containing the books.

He was starting to seem less cute somehow.

"Watari-san, I _insist. _Let me be a gentleman and GET YOUR DAMN BAGS UP THE STAIRS." A difficult task to achieve with three heavy bags and a plucky blond Shinigami all weighing you down. There were only four or so steps into the Main Entrance but it became a series of theatrical acrobats just to ascend them in one piece. The Gushoshin floated on ahead of us, muttering justifiable complaints to itself. The little owl circled above our heads like a tiny vulture waiting for one of us to drop dead.

"No, _I _insist!" Watari chirped. He tilted his body dramatically and the bag slipped off of the crook of my shoulder, the weight bringing the strap down hard on the uppermost curve of my bicep. It hurt like hell. The entire left side of my body buckled and I tried to let go of the luggage in my hand but Watari like an idiot, chose at that moment to tug.

"MORON!" I screamed before I lost my balance and fell backwards off of the stairs, my legs flinging up in the air like a ridiculous cartoon comic relief moment. I managed to release my death grip on all three bags and possibly may have been able to right myself, if Watari had not tried to play hero and catch me.

All six foot four of muscled me, landed atop all six foot nothing of skinny him. The result? Well gravity's funny like that. It serves the purpose of drawing the denser of objects to the ground at a faster rate than it does the lighter. Meaning, I basically turned the Shinigami into a flapjack.

The upside? Well it certainly aided in my mission to flirt him into submission and it certainly didn't appear as though I'd done it on purpose. Who throws themselves down a splintery old flight of stairs as a come on? I'd landed face down on top of him, our noses an inch apart, one of his legs crooked up between my own. I thanked the gods that I hadn't landed a margin to the side and permanently disabled myself and spent a moment allowing my blond companion to adjust to the delightful situation we'd gotten ourselves into.

Well, it was his fault to begin with! He may as well have been permitted to suffer the consequences.

Watari groaned softly and rubbed the back of his head. He must have banged it pretty hard against the ground. Well, he was a bonehead anyway. No harm done there.

"Now are you happy?" I snapped, purposefully moving my hips against his own. I watched his eyes snap open, registered the accelerated racing of each pulse in his body. He drew a sharp breath into his mouth.

"Oh my…" He remarked cautiously, attempting to sit up. He rested back on his forearms, forcing me to climb to my feet to match his transitory movements. I made sure to press my weight down on my pelvis as I separated our bodies and stood up. I saw the effect it had on him. Barely noticeable, easily dismissible; but just for a moment, his eyelashes fluttered.

"Watari-san! Mibu-san! Are you all right!?" Gushoshin shouted, floating back down from the Entrance Hall. I held out a hand, which Watari promptly took and easily pulled the guardian up. He was a little surprised by my strength and I by his slight weight. For a moment, I had him lifted off his feet.

"Nothing's broken." I reported as I brushed my yukata off. When I was sure I'd removed all the dirt and grass, I graciously assisted Watari. There wasn't much that could be done however. Since his clothes were still wet, the damp earth had clung onto his coat greedily. I swiped at the mud insistently, paying special attention to his backside. Conveniently enough, that's where he had taken the brunt of the fall.

He slapped my helpful hands away, waving his index finger back and forth. "Uh, uh-uh! You watch were your putting those hands! It's a little early on to be sending them south of the equator, don't you think?"

I pulled a suitably maligned expression. "Tsk. What a shame." I lowered my voice, obscuring my words from our feathered companions. "I heard the tropics are lovely this time of year."

Watari was a smart boy. I could see I'd gotten to him by the faint blush that spread across his cheeks but he didn't let his obvious embarrassment get the better of him. He prodded my nose hard with his finger, his smile warm but at the same time demanding of my attention. He seemed to have a variation of smiles, each spelling out what other people may have said in a more grim facial expression.

"Remember our talk, Mibu-san." He said, shifting his shoulders in a languid, yet sensual manner. "Everything has its' time and place and now's not the time for this. And for the record…" He moved his head over my shoulder and spoke directly into my ear. " – if you wanted me on my back all you had to do was ask."

I watched him bounce past me and retrieve his luggage, marveling to myself at this peppy undead I had managed to involve myself with. Clearly not all guardians were as elusive as Muraki's. I watched as Watari made a sharp whistle through his teeth and the small owl floated down to land atop his shoulder. The blond cooed some sweet nothings to it, gave its chest a little tickle and then smiled at me expectantly.

"Well come on then 'Ri! Are you going to show us to our room, or do we have to find it ourselves?"

I laughed softly to myself and obediently retrieved the two bags we had dropped in our short trip down the stairs. As we moved through the Entrance Hall of the Kokakuro, I slipped into silent contemplation regarding my new companion.

The first time I had set eyes on him had been a year ago, during the Kyoto incident in which I had assisted Muraki in delaying the Shinigami. Though I had not been paying close attention to this Yutaka Watari at the time. My focus had been primarily on the young man who had challenged me in order to win the two card keys Muraki had entrusted to me. Though I had taken various glances at his companions from time to time, watching for the slightest intention either one may have had to intrude upon our dual. They'd been graciously respectful of the rules I had set out. What I had noticed however, was that the young man with the blond hair was very appealing. (So far as my tastes were concerned).

Though clearly he had encountered some difficulties on his way to the Kokakuro this time around; the rain and grime accumulated on his body had done little to hinder his comely form. It's not a word I use habitually (if at all) but sexy seemed the only means through which to most adequately describe him. His shrewd, intelligent eyes, knowing smile and tangled wavy blond hair… even now I continue to find myself struck by how his appearance just sometimes begs for ravishment.

It's pretty clear to see that I don't get out much. Not because I lack the desire, the capacity or the looks to get by in society. I'm tall, dark and was (at the time) thirty-two. My legs are strong, my body toned and my eyes an unusual mixture of light brown and green, said to lure those that should meet my gaze into ever deepening realms of susceptibility. I can hold a conversation and I get along reasonably well with people when I want to.

However, I happen to have a slight disability. This disability has the side affect of making me somewhat anti-social as a result. It's a long story and most people tend to settle for finding me a little scary and leaving it at that. They don't try to explain it. Or if they want to take a stab, they simply wager a gamble and bet it all on a sort of Bushido/Samurai swordsman spirit, or some rubbish like that.

To be accurate, I suppose you could say my senses are highly accelerated. I possess a degree of unnatural abilties such as advanced preternatural reflexes, slight undeveloped empathic capabilities, a highly developed sixth sense, infintesimal control over my body and an unnaturally accelerated learning curve. I am able to detect the slightest hair of movement, the tiniest quiver of a leaf on the highest branch of a tree. The smallest shiver down a persons forearm. My ability is as such, that I can hasten my own body to make it appear as though everything around me has ground to almost a complete standstill. I can slice a leaf perfectly down the center with my sword, should it have the misfortune to fall in front of me. I perceive the world as one great ukulele, only all the strings are translucent to everyone but me. When the fancy takes me, I am able to see those strings, touch them, pull them and wind them about my fingers. These strings divide the world, pass through inanimate objects and living things alike. There are millions of them, thin like spider webs and every contact made with those strings sends a vibration through the material realm and affects all things it comes into contact with. The strings connect all things and all people. Where they begin is where they finish. The same cord that passes through me, passed through Watari, passed through the Gushoushin, passed through hundreds of people.

As far as I know, only I could see these cords. And only I could manipulate them. By moving along these cords I was able to penetrate the minds and bodies of those that were connected to them, which I suppose granted me enormous leverage, especially when it came to the grounds of manipulation.

I can also sense the life force of any and every living thing. Or in the Shinigami's case, this seems a little bizarre. They do have an aura though, albeit it feels and appears differently to me. It sets them apart from regular humans. It's as though they glow a little.

Before the guardian had even knocked I had sensed his presence. The strong aura of the undead affected the subtle underlying balance of this place of existence. If I had to compare it to anything, the aura of a Shinigami felt to me as if two people had a blanket stretched out across the world and somewhere in the middle, it had snagged upon something. Guardian's created a tension in the membrane of the mortal plane; their aura complicated an already complex web. By the time he and the two birds had stepped onto the doorstep the presence was so obvious to me they may as well have knocked on the outside of my skull. I could feel the aura of three distinct life forms, emanating from the street beyond the door. The Shinigami's was the strongest. I remember hoping that my clothes were neat and my ponytail was still even. It was silly. Like a boy on his first date. And though I'd never been particularly fond of performing Muraki's dirty work, I was never so maligned as to make a poor effort of it.

It was as bad as I'd thought. The Shinigami was …lovely. That's the only word I can think to accurately describe my thoughts at the time. He was blond and brown eyed, with a sexy knowing smile, long trim legs and lovely slender wrists… Oh curse you Muraki. No, he wasn't the one who deserved the blame here. Curse the Ministry of Hades. They'd had no idea what they'd condemned this poor boy to.

And he wasn't about to lighten his burden either. He was a positive 100 per cent flirt. I listened closely to the accelerated beating of his heart, the thud of his individual pulses throughout his body. Tiny molecules of his skin flushed red. I could sense that his temperature rose several palpable degrees whilst we stood out there on the doorstep.

Even without Muraki's incentive it wouldn't have taken me long to detect that he desired me. It was kind of ridiculous, considering that we'd never had a proper introduction. But nevertheless, I found myself inexplicably warming to him.

He was a sweetheart. A harmless, gentle natured man with his emotions on his sleeve and a Kansai accent so profoundly rich you could cut it with a knife. Clearly a Kyoto boy in his own right. I considered myself a Kyoto native though I had lived in Tokyo until leaving high school, when I had moved to Kyoto to… well that was a long time ago now. The point being my accent was hardly affected (though my dialect had entirely shifted to _Kyoto-ben)_ and his was undeniably strong. He must have lived in Kyoto before he died, I reasoned.

Of course he'd been a little surprised when I'd started flirting with him, but not nearly as revered as I had hoped. Rather than rock back and question my sudden and unprovoked advancement, he had flirted right back. I accumulated the surprise myself as I came to the realization that despite his carefree appearance, this Watari character was certainly not inexperienced. I detected the subtle adjustment of his modest expectations. He was far too comfortable in this prospect I'd presented him with.

_Oh boy, _I thought. _I'm going to have some fun with you._

We entered the reception area of the Kokakuro and I wasn't surprised to find the five remaining geiko there waiting for us. They advanced on us in a flock and immediately started to make a fuss over our newest guest and his cute 'pet birds.' I was ignored for the most part, something I was used to by this point. Whenever I had a male friend, usually Muraki, stay at the Kokakuro, the girls went tooth and nail to make them feel welcome. They were used to me by this point and since I was the proprietor and sort of like the father figure, crooning, gasping, ooh-ing and ah-ing over me was considered a bit creepy. Not to mention I was the boss. A good escort doesn't get cozy with his adopted daughters.

"Why, would you look at that." I said disgustedly to Akemi, the only one of my girls who wasn't currently grooming Watari like a spider monkey. Akemi was four years older than I, making her the most mature of the girls in my service. She was a tall halfie with short blonde hair, who'd had three patrons in her time and a child to each of them. From time to time I think she considers me her fourth. Fine with me. When the rest of your employee's look at you as their father you start feeling old after a while. Akemi treating me like a child reminded me that I didn't yet need to go shopping for a walking stick.

Ironically enough, she and I had undertaken the traditional ritual that bound as together as Father and daughter, even though she was older than myself. What this ritual established was, that if I failed to produce an heir, Akemi as the _atotori,_ would be the one to inherit the Kokakuro should I relinquish title ship.

"Is he a friend of yours, beau?" She asked me with what seemed like little interest. I did notice that she'd hiked up her _obi_ by an inch when we'd walked in, so clearly she wasn't as dismissive as she pretended.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that, Oba-san. He is the gentleman I've hired to take Samai-san's place." Samai had been the Kokakuro's receptionist and had been for the past eight years. I wasn't ashamed to say I missed her but in light of what had happened to my other girls I hadn't yet taken the time to mourn her absence as I may once had. "He'll also be investigating the murders. He's the… special detective I've had called in."

Akemi nodded. She and I were the only one's who knew what Watari was actually here to do. My other employee's would believe he was nothing more than a receptionist.

The receptionist-to-be in question managed to extract himself from the adoring throng of _geiko_ and wobble on over to join Akemi and I. His face was covered in lipstick prints and his glasses were crooked.

"Wow…" He said dazedly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear I'd died and gone to Heaven. Is it like Kokakuro custom to greet new guests with a kiss Mibu-san?"

I chuckled mockingly and reached over to adjust his spectacles for him. "More like a complimentary perk. And I told you, call me Oriya."

Watari nodded as though this had been something deep and philosophical. He looked back over his shoulder and one by one indicated to each of the girls who bowed with a demure smile as he pointed at them.

"Mami Takada, Sonja Mutai, Dai Yamagawa, Miyamato Subaru and…" He spun around to face Akemi who visibly straightened her back so that her breasts stood out. She had a patron at the moment but she still wanted to be noticed by Watari. Even though I'm positive he wasn't at all her type. "… I'm sorry… can I ask what your name is?"

"Akemi Aisubi." She said, bowing deeply. Watari grinned and bowed just as deeply as she did, probably grateful that she hadn't yet attacked him with a passionate welcome kiss. So far she was the only one who hadn't.

"Well, isn't that a most lovely name? Aisubi-san, it's a pleasure to meet you!" He said straightening up and giving her a genuine smile. "I'm Yutaka Watari and I'll be taking over as receptionist for a while. I'm awful sorry about your loss, ma'am."

Akemi looked a little shocked. The murders had become an almost taboo subject in light of the proximity yet no one had really considered the personal affect it had on the other girls in my service. They had all been close, a number acting as elder sisters to the younger generation. Finding three of them murdered was as though someone had killed part of our family. Everyone had been shattered by the recent discovery but the five girls here had tried to remain strong for me and vice versa. I got the sense that they did not believe an outsider like Watari could understand anything about our suffering.

At first I had thought the same. Then I learnt differently.

"Ah… well thankyou, sir." Akemi murmured softly, lowering her head a little. I could tell she was trying to keep from crying.

The four other girls came up and joined us. Sonja, with the split-peach hairstyle, put her arm around Akemi's shoulders and gave her upper arm a bit of a squeeze. Miyamato immediately attempted to change the mood of the conversation.

"Watari-san? Do you happen to be married?" She asked casually flinging her loose black hair about.

"Time to go." I declared giving Watari a prompting clout on the backside. He got the hint and quickly made his way over to the hallway directly in front of him. I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck like I would a cat and dragged him behind me in the right direction.

"It was nice meeting you girls!" He peeped, waving even as the receded into the distance. Miyamato blew a kiss and I internally berated the recreant girl. Thirty years old, working in an okiya and you'd think she'd have just a margin of knowledge when it came to evaluating men.

After a few meters I realized that Watari was simply allowing himself to be dragged behind me, his heels leaving twin trails of dirt along the floorboards. Sighing disgustedly, I released my hold of his collar. His head crashed to the floor and he let out a loud 'Oomph!' to express his discomfort. He stared up at me demurely as I stood over him, my lip curled and eyebrow raised.

"Ah… he he…" He chuckled embarrassedly. I wasn't amused. "That kinda hurt you know?"

"Yeah… and so did you pulling me down the stairs after you outside." I reminded him, hefting one of the bags atop my shoulder. "If you think I'm going to drag both you and these bags to your room then you are seriously mistaken Shinigami. … _Honestly, asking if he was married… as if she couldn't tell he's as queer as a three dollar bill…"_

"Hey! Whaddya mean; 'Queer as a three dollar bill!?'" He cried as I continued up the hallway muttering distastefully to myself the entire way. The Gushoshin gave Watari a sort of 'What can I do?' shrug as he floated up ahead of me.

I heard Watari scramble off of the floorboards and race after me. He got in front of me and prodded me hard in the center of my chest, bringing me to a dead stop.

"I'll have you know _Pimp-boy_, I _was _actually married!"

My features and body relaxed so suddenly I very nearly dropped both bags. I regained control quickly, though the shock still registered in my features.

"You were married?" I asked. I thought hard on that for a moment. "To a woman?"

It was dark in the hallway but I could still see his face go red. "YES to a woman, you idiot! I died when I was twenty-eight."

"Which was?"

"1981." And then, in case I couldn't perform simple addition; "Twenty-two years ago."

For some reason this struck me as being very sad. "You have been dead almost as long as you lived, Shinigami-san."

He simply smiled. "Well I wouldn't look at it quite like that. I have existed for fifty years in this world. And back in the seventies people were getting married younger than they are expected to today. I was married at nineteen. I also had about eight siblings of my own. Still alive today."

"Where are they?"

"Hmm, scattered around the country I imagine. Or maybe they're still in Osaka. That's where my family lived, where I was raised. Could have gone back to England for all I know… that's where my Mom's side of the family was from."

"You don't know where they are?" This surprised me a little. I still kept in contact regularly with my own family and wouldn't have had it any other way. Thinking about not seeing or hearing from them for twenty-two years seemed maddening to me.

Watari gave a little shrug. "Against Ministry regulations. You can't interfere with the lives of your living relatives. They all know I died in 1981. Can you imagine what harm it would cause, what mayhem would follow if I should just waltz on up to them one day and say 'Hello!'? That sort of thing breaches the life/death policy! It just… causes problems."

I made a very ungentlemanly sound through my nose. "Call it whatever you want to call it. I just find it hypocritical. As far as I'm concerned, they breached that life/death policy when they started bringing you guys back to do their dirty work for them. It's unnatural… the dead deserve to rest."

"You can't say that Mibu-san. You don't know anything about the situation of us guardians." His homely face was crunched into a frown. "We find a place at the Ministry because we can't rest. We become Shinigami because we died violent or unnatural deaths. And I for one am thankful for their hypocrisy. Because when I consider the life I lived, I figure that I've done more for myself in death than I ever did when I was alive. I'm grateful for this chance." Watari's voice had become cold and remote. A tone I was beginning to loathe implicitly.

"I've brought up something that has upset you," I said. I didn't know much about Shinigami etiquette but common sense told me that inquiring into one's death was clearly not appropriate. I suppose it would be like him taking jabs at the death of my girls. "Come, I will show you to your room. We can talk about something else while we walk. What would you like to discuss?"

He considered thoughtfully as we walked side by side in the direction of the room I had prepared for him. The Gushoshin was levitating along ahead of us, whilst 003, who had until now been circling our heads, now contented itself to making a cozy roost in the part of Watari's hair. The long wavy hair _did _look comfortable… if you were a fist sized owl that is.

"I wanna know more about my employer!" Watari finally declared. He smiled at me expectantly, his pretty eyes magnified behind the lenses of his glasses. "Tell me about yourself. Your life here, what you do, your personal interests, your shoe size, favorite brand of shampoo, the first thing you do when you get up in the morning; anything!"

I laughed a little, flattered by his enthusiasm. I'd never met anyone capable of becoming as smitten with a person as he had with me in such a short space of time. This was a phenomenal achievement in its' own right, as I am hardly a person worthy to be smitten with.

"Well I'm honored that you've taken such an interest in me _cher_, but I don't think I'm as interesting as you seem to think." He was still staring at me expectantly so I guess I was obligated to answer. "Okay, let's see… most days I wake up, crawl out of my futon and stretch all my muscles. I make the bed, shower, brush my teeth… I usually shave though I only need to do that every second day or so. My whiskers don't grow back very fast. I eat breakfast and then I head out into the yard and train for a few hours. If it's a workday, I work, mostly handling accounts, the paperwork. Sometimes I help out with the cooking; you know, for the actual restaurant half of this establishment. In the evening I train a little more, I tend to the girls; make sure everything's running smoothly. Then I might give my mother and father a call. That or one of my two sisters and their kids. In the evening the _real _work kicks off if you know what I mean, so I kinda have my hands full from seven pm to three in the morning. The girls and their customers have total privacy when it comes to the servicing you understand but it's my job to make the arrangements and so forth. If it's not a work day then I may do a few extra hours of training. Or I meditate. Or I read a book. Or sometimes I even sunbathe, depending on the weather. Can't say it's been too kind to me lately. Depending on how much time I have off, I may go and visit my parents and brother Kenji in Tokyo or my sister Chiemi in Hokkaido or Asuoko in Himeji. Or if I'm lucky they might come and visit me. Sometimes I go to the movies. Or I go and watch a performance. I really like Ainu music. And Noh theatre. The austerity of underlying Zen philosophy, in which it integrates traditional dance and the ambiguity of Yugen; a world beneath worlds in which we must peruse the depths of beauty as a transcendent experience. A vague concept but I find it gratifying just the same. Do you enjoy Noh performances Watari-san?"

"Noh is…" At this his voice dropped to a hushed tone of a dissident planning treason against the Prime Minister. "… a little… _slow _for my liking." He smiled bashfully and starting quickly trampling over his own words as though afraid he had offended me for dissing Noh. "I can understand though why so many people enjoy it! The masks for example are exquisite! They're poised between expressions, able to capture the mood and reflections of so many underlying emotions whilst at the same time never making anything definitive. I really admire the artistry that went into such creations! Noh can also be quite haunting and moving… but it just goes on for so long! For the first hour or so, it's bearable and then it just starts to drag, and drag and drag and drag…" He looped his head in circles as some indication of how a lagging Noh performance may have affected him. "I can appreciate the beauty and skill that goes into the performance but I guess it's just not for me. Zeami was a brilliant man though. To have written such wonderful plays and have them last as long as they have! He was a genius!"

"Well, it didn't exactly hurt that he was the homosexual lover of the leading Shogun at the time he wrote the plays," I muttered offhand.

Watari heard me and laughed. "Well yes I'm sure that helped his career along a bit! But lots of people sleep their way to the top and he sure as heck wasn't the first! So, you are a cultured man, Oriya Mibu-san. You like indigenous music and the theatre. You're family oriented and skilled as a swordsman. What else? How about relationships? How many times have _you _been married?" He asked cheekily.

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I was briefly engaged some years ago but… as I suppose you can tell, that didn't quite work out as planned. I haven't married. And I don't really date. There's just… never really much time for me to have a relationship. Plus I don't get out much so…" I came up short, chewing on my lower lip thoughtfully. "I guess I just let each day slip out from beneath my feet. Before I've really registered it, tomorrow comes and today is yesterday. Not too long ago I was seventeen years old and in high school. I had the whole world on bended knee. Now I'm getting old between these walls and wondering where the years went."

Watari smiled softly. "You sound sad… but I think what you have is nice."

"Nice?" I asked incredulously. He nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, you can relax and take it easy and spend time with your family. Do things for yourself. It's a wonderful luxury and you should be very thankful for it!"

"I'm certainly thankful for my family but sometimes I wish my life could be a little less clouded. That I didn't feel as though… I am dead already."

"Hey, it's better than being yelled at every day for blowing up the lab and being regarded as a complete failure because _you're _not the Super-Shinigami, you're just the one who tags along and analyzes things or takes care of the wounded or brings things to life and you can't even do _that _right anymore." He took a deep breath and laughed mockingly as though ashamed he'd let himself get carried away. "I'm sorry. I guess I've been a tad emotional lately. It's not like youneed to hear about it though."

"It's okay."

"So… what will you do Mibu-san? Long term I mean." He gently inquired.

"Grow old and die in my sleep." My voice was gruffer then I intended. He'd touched a nerve, that had long been left undisturbed and it had resonated a painful cord throughout my heart.

I came to a stop at one of the doors and gently lowered his luggage to the ground.

"This will be your room," I mumbled, sliding the door open, allowing the Gushoshin to enter. "I trust your stay will be comfortable and you're more than inclined to approach me about anything that doesn't fit your standards."

I could still hear the frailty in my voice and was disgusted for letting my weakness show. I shouldn't have begrudged the life I had been granted. Especially standing before a dead man whose life was now over. It just looked selfish and juvenile.

"Let me know if you need anything." I turned to leave.

"Wait! Mibu-san…"

I hadn't been fishing for sympathy, so it came as a pleasant surprise to me to receive it. Watari's hand tenderly gripped my upper arm and I turned back to him. His face was soft. He'd let his own mask down.

We stood that way for a while, the two of us in the quiet hallway. In our conversation we had made each other a little angry, had pushed some buttons we should have left well enough alone and because of that I now felt I knew Yutaka Watari a little better. And vice versa. It's as though we had cleared the air and figured out who the other was as a person, rather than as the role we played. He the undead detective pretending he was a ditzy receptionist. And I the lonely swordsman slash pimp slash friend of a murderer pretending that I was a noble man.

There was a cigarette butt suspended in his hair, just wedged in between a few of the tresses on the crown. I reached on over the sleeping owl with my free hand and lifted the offensive litter out with two of my fingers. I showed it to him and then flicked it away and then I did myself a small indulgence and started to run my fingers through his wavy locks, spreading it out across his shoulders.

"Don't take this the wrong way, because I don't mean to offend you," I told him. "But might I ask if you are a natural blond?"

He smiled and touched his fingers to my scalp, brushing my head as though I were a pet. The action reminded me of the attention my mother used to lavish on me as I child and I wouldn't sleep. It was one of the tactics she used to try and get me to nod off.

"Yes." He said at last. "I was born and raised in Japan but my mother was British. I wore it short all through my life and even for a while after my death. It's only the past couple of years that I decided to grow it out."

"It's beautiful." I observed. "It could do with a bit of a wash now but still it just takes my breath away…"

He sighed softly and reluctantly brought his hands back to his side, looking down towards his feet. I could practically feel the heat radiating off of his face "You have lovely hair too."

"Thankyou. But mine is just dull old brown. It's nothing like yours."

He frowned at me scathingly. "Saying things like that when it's so untrue only offends people who _are _actually dull, Mibu-san. Good looking people aren't allowed to run themselves into the ground."

I ignored him, fascinated by his hair and how soft it felt in my hands. Still though, I must admit that it was nice for once to have someone concern themselves over me in the manner Watari did. No one had ever bothered to ask about my personal well being and how I coped with my monotonous life style. He seemed to be a very kind hearted person.

"I should go take a shower and wash off some of this excess grime I accumulated on my way here," He murmured with all the willpower of child reminding themselves that they had to go to bed in five minutes but their television show finished in ten. He didn't want to leave my presence. I looked down at his slender frame and nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes," I agreed. "Then you should meet me downstairs and I'll explain to you what duties you will need to perform whilst you're playing at being my receptionist. Then… I'll take you to perform the examination of the bodies. Okay?"

He lowered his face, the reality of his reason for being here coming back to haunt him. "Okay." He said firmly. I could see he was about to become distracted by his moral obligations and knew I was supposed to keep him from that in any way possible.

"Go take a shower." I told him, running a comforting hand across his neck, which did nothing to improve the state of his blush. "And then come and see me downstairs by the front desk whenever you are done. You can take your time. Don't rush on my account."

"Yeah… okay…" He said in a quavery voice. He leant his forehead against mine for a moment and then grabbed both bags by the handles and dragged them inside. He stuck his head back out and winked at me. "And thanks for carrying my bags up! You're a doll!"

Doll. It was an off the cuff remark but to me the very word seemed to ring with unpleasant connotations. Rather than express this, I merely gave him a courteous nod and turned to trek my way through the silent hallway. My lips tingled, as though I were divinely envisaged by the rampant desire to kiss the other man, though I hadn't yet felt any sort of definitive attraction to him. Nothing that I might not have felt for any other pretty blond face that happened to stroll in off of the beaten track, anyway.

"By the way," He looked up at me as I patted the door directly next to his own. "You may find the bed comfortable in _that _room but keep in mind you'll probably find the bed in this room ten times as comfortable as that one. And you're welcome to it any time the desire takes you."

"Any reason you didn't just give me that room in the first place?" He asked as he unzipped the bag containing the scientific equipment. I grinned inappropriately at him.

"Well, because it's actually _my _room."

I couldn't resist laughing as the flustered guardian dropped something he'd been attempting to extract from the bag. By the time he made it out into the hallway to scold me, I was long gone, my laughter echoing in my place.

_**- EC -**_

**Oriya: **Hoo-ray. My first chapter. Please leave some nice reviews folks and the next chapter (which is already written due to this one being too long and the author having to chop it in two to avoid reader frustration) will be along very soon.

**Watari: **Yes! YES! Leave lots of shiny reviews for Ori's very first chapter! (Ruffles Oriya's hair)

**Oriya: **What's wrong with good old fashioned reviews?

**Watari: **(Looking bemused) Not shiny enough! WHEE! Behold my talent! (Thrusts out a picture before Oriya's face)

**Oriya: **(Taking picture) And what is _this _supposed to be?

**Watari: **Why, it's a picture of you silly! Don't pretend you can't tell!

**Oriya: **Since when the Hell was my head ten times the size of my body?

**Watari: **Um… since I decided it was?

**Oriya: **(Sweatdrops and puts picture down.) Just promise me you won't ever bring it to life and I'll agree with you.

**Watari: **(Giggles and scribbles his signature on the screen. He waves at the readers.) Ja beloved readers! In the next chappie there's a little bit from me and then back to the Tsuzuki – Muraki show! HOORAY!

**Tsuzuki: **WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!! NO! I don't wanna be sexually molested by Dr. Satan!

**Muraki: **(Tying Tsuzuki up to a chair) What was that my pet? I couldn't hear you over the Angels singing.

**Tsuzuki: **o_0 Somebody help me…


	9. WatariTsuzuki: Dirty little secrets

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Not mine loves. I don't own much of anything. All I own is a laptop, a PS2 and a whacky imagination. I would like to keep all three of them since I've already lost my sanity to fanfiction. Don't sue me PLEASE! (Puppy eyes)

**Note: **(Checks notes on clipboard) So… whom do we have in today's chapter? Ah… Watari and Tsuzuki! Watari's section is a follow up from the last chapter, whilst Tsuzuki is going to be getting down and dirty with Muraki! (Watches readers scroll through the chapter to get to the 'down and dirty.') Wait! I think you misunderstood! Because of the chapter length, I have been forced to segregate Muraki and Tsuzuki's date until next chapter. They do speak in this chappie but if you want to see more, you'll have to wait for the next update. The sex scenes are fast approaching but they will not be in this chapter I'm sorry!

**Muraki: **(Hits Hickok with a spork) Rot in hell, bitch.

**Hickok: **(Cowers) I'm sorry! I'm sorry! (Whimpers)

**Additional Note: **The revised version of Chapter 9! Only a few little additions to note. A little extra at the end of Watari's chapter, as it only occurred to me that Watari never actually got the samples from Oriya like he said! So that has been added and Tsuzuki's section has been neatened up and a few minor alterations made. I hope you find it smoother reading, everyone! Enjoy!

**Dirty Little Secrets**

_Heaven bend to take my hand_

_Lead me through the fire_

_Be the long awaited answer_

_To a long and painful fight_

_Truth be told I tried my best_

_But somewhere along the way_

_I got caught up in all there was to offer_

_But the cost was so much more than I could bear_

_Though I've tried I've fallen_

_I have sunk so low_

_I messed up_

_Better I should know_

_So don't come round here and_

_Tell me I told you so_

_We all begin out with good intent_

_When love is raw and young_

_We believe that we can change ourselves_

_The past can be undone_

_But we carry on our back the burdens time always reveals_

_In the lonely light of morning_

_In the wound that would not heal_

_It's the bitter taste of losing everything_

_I've held so dear_

_Though I've tried I've fallen_

_I have sunk so low_

_I messed up_

_Better I should know_

_So don't come round here and_

_Tell me I told you so_

_Heaven bend to take my hand_

_I've nowhere left to turn_

_I'm lost to those I thought were friends_

_To everyone I know_

_Oh they turn their heads embarrassed_

_Pretend that they don't see_

_Though it's one wrong step one slip before you know it_

_And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed_

_Though I've tried I've fallen_

_I have sunk so low_

_I messed up_

_Better I should know_

_So don't come round here and_

_Tell me I told you so_

"**Fallen" –** Sarah McLachlan

"_In any man who dies there dies with him  
his first snow and kiss and fight...  
Not people die but worlds die in them."_  
~**Yevgeny Yevtushenko, "People"**

**XxXxXxXxXx**

**Watari**

I had my shower. My _cold _shower thanks to Oriya Mibu. The nerve of him, making such a sexually provocative insinuation when I was trying to behave myself! What did he think I was? A woman? I couldn't be expected to have infinite control over my hormones!

Needless to say, the shower felt wonderful. The cool water seemed to extinguish my fiery hunger, washing away the filth from my flesh as well as my mind. I scrubbed every inch of my body, shampooed my hair, rubbed a sweet smelling shower gel into my skin and checked my legs to make sure they didn't need shaving. I plucked away a few stray hairs and then cleaned my face of any remaining makeup. When I got out, I wrapped a towel around my waist and spent a good few minutes wringing the excess water out from my hair. I put on moisturizer, deodorant and rubbed a detangling lotion into my locks. It trailed down my back in aggressive snarls, bunched together in a demonstration of protest. I went through this usual battle with my hair every other day. It liked to put up a fight when it came to brushing it.

Gushoshin didn't have the decency to give me a break either. When I emerged from the bathroom he tutted disapprovingly from behind the laptop. Somehow he'd managed to set up most of the equipment in the fifteen… _okay, _twenty minutes I had been in the shower. Let's just say I had a lot of dirt to clean up… and NO not like that!

"Oh what!?" I exclaimed, snapping the towel in his direction and then retying it back around my waist. The bird shook its' head at me.

"It's just… you humans." He seemed mystified. "I was thinking of something Terazuma-san once said to me that actually now makes a lot of sense."

"Oh really? What did he say?" I asked as I fished a brush out of my luggage and made my way over to the bathroom to use the mirror. Oriya had kindly given us a luxurious room, complete with view, plenty of space to spare and an en-suite. The en-suite even had a portable spa or hot tub. I couldn't think of the right word to describe it. It was large though, large enough for three or more adults and maybe a midget or two, with a dark cedar decking, temperature setting, jet pressure and steps on two sides. The shower stall was ridiculously big too. I wondered if the previous tenant had been a giant or if Oriya was just seriously overcompensating for something. … I hoped it was that first one.

The Gushoshin paused in whatever task he had been in the midst of to look over towards the bathroom. "Terazuma-san said he could see why you and Tsuzuki-san get along so well. If I remember correctly, his exact words were; 'One of them only thinks about his stomach and the other only thinks about what hangs beneath it."

I nearly yanked my hair out of my head. "Gushoshin!" I cried, outraged. "That you would even repeat such a crude observation! I am appalled by your lack of decorum! And I shall have you know, just for the record, that I_ don't _only think about my stomach!"

Gushoshin sweatdropped. "Actually… I think you were meant to be that second one."

I ignored him as I set to work untangling my wavy hair. Oriya may have thought it was beautiful (it still gave me thrills when I thought back to what he had said) but it was a damn nuisance to take care of. Sometimes more than it was worth really. It was a tedious process and I usually got through it by sitting in front of the television whilst I brushed it or tricking Tsuzuki into doing it for me. I would bribe him with sweets and cakes until he was prepared to hook my locks into a complicated French braid. Cruel yes but I think any woman could understand.

I was finished with it in about eight or so minutes, a record for me. But I put that down to the fact that I had only gone through this process a few hours earlier. I wanted to hook up my hairdryer and give it a proper teasing out but I realistically told myself that I didn't have the time, even if Oriya had taken a liking to how it looked out. I was going to be examining bodies. It wasn't practical to have my hair swishing all over the place. With that in mind, I twisted as much of it as possible into a tight braid, even the pieces I usually wore long at the front. I placed my glasses atop the bridge of my nose and then bounced over to my bag. I started to root through it for clean clothing.

I spent an inappropriate amount of time thinking about what Oriya had said about my being a distraction. I didn't believe him for a second that this had been the real reason he had for requesting that I not be sent. I could sense now that his true reason wasn't so cruel as I had previously believed, not that I was one to be concerned with how others perceived me. I wanted Oriya to like me and I got the feeling he liked me just fine. At the moment. There was some other reason why he hadn't wanted me here.

_Could it have been that he knew?_

I dismissed the thought and continued fossicking. No, he couldn't possibly have known about her. If he hadn't even known I was married then there wasn't a chance he knew anything else relating to my life before I became a Shinigami. I was just clutching at straws and rather flimsy straws at that. No, Oriya's reason was something substantial to do with the business he ran. And not the ridiculous notion that all his customers were going to pay so much attention to me that they would forget about the geiko. That was flattering but it wasn't the truth. I'm cute but I'm not on the same level of loveliness as people like Muraki and I'm sure business went fine whenever he was here. Then again… maybe it didn't. What did I know?

I could think about it later. Right now I had a more important dilemma to contend with. What kind of clothing was appropriate to wear in an okiya? Oriya wore an old fashioned kimono but I knew on me, it would look entirely stupid and sexless. I wasn't tall enough or wide enough in the shoulders to pull off something like that. I liked bright, form fitting clothing. Still, I did want to make a good impression, though it's not as though I'd looked dashing when I'd slopped up to the doorstep like a walking mud pie.

Could Oriya possibly ever be attracted to me? He didn't seem like the kind of person who would jump someone just because he heard that they liked him. I slapped myself hard on the head, causing Gushoshin to jump in shock. I was getting distracted again. What was I allowing myself to be so worked up about? Judging by his attitude, it seemed that he wasn't against getting to know me better. Excusing his bad taste in theatre, I hadn't found anything about him I didn't like. I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking about the way he'd moved against me when we'd fallen down the stairs together.

I wondered what Oriya would have been like as a sexual partner. I didn't imagine that he would be a fiercely passionate lover, rather he would be controlled and his pace would be gentle but at the same time substantial enough to satisfy. The thought of that beautiful body naked and pressed to my own was stirring something insistent inside of me.

_SMACK! _"Bad Yutaka." I scolded as Gushoshin nearly fell from the table in fright. That bird has nerves of glass. I reminded myself I wasn't going to get anywhere, sitting around in a wet towel thinking lewd thoughts of dalliances with a pimp. It was time to get dressed and get those primary examinations out of the way.

I pulled an armful of clothing out, paying special attention to the newly purchased articles I had acquired last night. My choice of garments was always limited as a result of the scars on my body, particularly my arms. Usually I wore turtlenecks with long sleeves as much as I had once liked showing skin. Finally, I extracted a sleeveless navy blue turtleneck from the pile and pulled it on over my upper torso, pleased to see that it fit me snugly. It was a nice top and though I hadn't exercised much during life, (apart from swimming) I'd been fortunate enough to be blessed with a fast metabolism and maintained my naturally slim figure. I had what might have passed for muscle definition on my chest and abdomen, though not nearly as toned as Tsuzuki happened to be. This didn't seem fair, considering how much junk food he ate and all. I found the small plastic bag I'd shoved into my luggage and slipped out the navy sleeves I had bought at the same shop. They were a cute little purchase; fingerless gloves attached to a long sleeve that when pulled on extended up past the elbow. It covered the marks on my skin perfectly, though I'd have to take special care to make sure that they didn't fall down. I didn't want Oriya to see those marks until he had no other choice but to see them. And maybe then he would hopefully be too preoccupied to notice.

I dawdled over my underwear for a while, trying to decide whether or not it would be worth wearing one of my flashier thongs. I wanted to be realistic and remind myself that it was unlikely that Oriya was going to be seeing that much of me today but the way things had been progressing… Thankfully I got a handle of myself and selected a yellow, blue and white pair of boxers, pulling the towel away and sliding the snug material up my hips. I wasn't exactly concerned with the Gushoshin peeping at me while I changed. Human anatomy doesn't really interest them all that much and he was still entirely focused on the computer screen. I could have pranced around the room nude declaring; "Behold my nakedness!" and I doubt he would even glance up.

Once I was safely tucked into my boxers, I pulled on a tight pair of black jeans, getting into a brief disagreement with the button and zipper as I sanctioned it around my hips.

At last, I was ready!

"Gushoshin, I'm off to go and examine the bodies." I declared, picking up the small kit containing the necessary supplies. Unfortunately, I had to be extremely subtle in my examination or risk impeding Oriya and the Ministry when the Police performed their own investigation. Sooner or later they were going to hear about this but I guessed for now Oriya's 'connections' were helping to keep the murders on ice. "While I'm doing that I need you to look into something for me. I'm pretty sure I have a good idea which demon may be connected to this case."

He looked up at me, astonished. "Already? That was quick. Though you always have been very efficient when it comes to figuring out demons I guess."

"It's my little quirk, what can I say?" I said with a grin. "See if you can find any info on the demon Mitkiel. That's spelt, M-I-T-K-I-E-L. All I know at this point in time is that it is the Demon of Punishment. I need to find out its' form, current location, powers, attributes, anything else you can think of."

"Well you know I'll do my best," Gushoshin murmured as he connected to the Ministry Database via the Internet. "But if _you _don't know much about it, then I wager that no one else knows much about it either, Watari-san. You're the walking encyclopedia of demons after all."

I laughed self-mockingly. "I guess that's true. Still, have a gander for me, would you? I'd really appreciate it."

"Just as long as you do your job and don't spend all your time trying to force your tongue down our employers' throat." Gushoshin scolded, shooting me a cautionary look. I was about to protest my innocence but he just waved at me to go. "Don't you even start with me or neither of us will get anywhere. On your way, now."

"Right." I declared nodding. I trotted over to 003 who had fallen asleep in a smooshed bundle of feathers atop my pillow. I smiled and stroked his head. "Don't worry 003. I'll be back soon, so you just rest until then. It's been a big day for you!"

003 hooted in his sleep as if agreeing. He revived just long enough to give my finger an affectionate nibble. Which reminded me; I would need to find a shop where I could acquire some mouse meat. As fond as 003 was of cake, he couldn't survive indefinitely on it. Though I'm sure he would have taken me up on that if he could.

Oriya was waiting for me at the front desk just as he said he would be. He was chatting to the geisha named Akemi when I walked up and I got the tribute of both of their attentions immediately focusing on me. I started to feel a little self-conscious and I was glad that the other four girls weren't around. Somehow I got the feeling that during my investigation I was undoubtedly going to form tighter bonds with the pair in front of me.

"Hello sweetheart." Akemi said beaming as I ambled up to them. She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Clearly, I had been adopted. I was as curious of Akemi's hair color, as I'm sure other people are of mine. Whilst I was blond with light brown eyes, she was blond and blue eyed, though her features were clearly more Japanese than Caucasian. I assumed that she must have been a halfie, like I was but it wasn't until a lot later that I learnt the full truth of her lineage.

Oriya gave me that same look he had given me outside; the one people reserve for individuals who think they're being rather awfully clever, when in fact they're really not. I only understood later that this was never the purpose of Oriya's expression, to make me feel insignificant. Only later did I attribute it to the nature that followed it; it meant he was about to start teasing me.

"Going somewhere special?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. I frowned at him, feeling my temper flare up just a little.

"I'm going to examine the bodies of three murdered girls actually. Why? Doesn't this seem appropriate to you?"

He looked like he was getting frustrated. I could understand. I was never usually this sharp with people but today I was feeling just a little bit fragile. I was minutes away from confronting a situation far too familiar to me.

"Don't take it like that." He grumbled, pressing a hand against my shoulder. I could feel the calluses on his palm rub against my bare flesh. It was a nice sensation. "Must you be so sensitive? Nothing that has happened here is funny, I know but if I let it get the better of me, I would flounder. And all those I have to be strong for would flounder. So… could you try your earnest _not _to throw a shit fit? Coping with this has been difficult enough for me. Please… just treat me a little more gently."

His words soothed out the sharp corners of my temper. I had to remind myself that to him my anger seemed completely unjustified. He wasn't to know. These girls were people that _he _knew and in his mind I was just being difficult. Making a larger mess for him to contend with. The fact that he openly requested that I 'treat him gently' was so unexpected of a man like him, I didn't react immediately. He was feeling the same way I was. Neither of us was joking.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling suddenly and acutely ashamed of myself. I lowered my face, breaking eye contact with him out of respect. "Things like this just get the better of me, that's all. I'm sure you can understand."

He nodded and I risked bestowing a small pat upon his chest.

"I'll try and get this done as quickly as possible, okay? Then you can take those poor girls out of here."

Oriya nodded as my fingers strayed off of his chest and then turned to face Akemi. "I'm going to show Watari-san to the room. Make sure that none of the other girls come anywhere near. None of you need to see that again."

"Yes, beau." She intoned with a deep bow that managed to include both Oriya and I. I watched as she turned and shuffled out of sight and then trailed my eyes back to the tall proprietor.

"Oh, that you reminds me." He suddenly declared, moving around the tall counter and rustling around on the shelf beneath it for a moment. "I have your uniform here. The one you shall be wearing for your part-time stint as receptionist… ah, here it is." He lifted up the uniform, still on its hanger and slung it over one arm, holding it out for my inspection.

I gave him a dubious inspection. "I see… … well, isn't that lovely."

I don't know what I had been expecting but it certainly hadn't been this. The uniform was relatively safe much to my disappointment. It was nice enough; black pants, v-neck button up vest and white shirt with long sleeves. But it wasn't anything spectacular.

I swallowed heavily. "I'll look like the butler."

He laughed and tucked the uniform back under the counter. "It looks much better on." He assured me. I shrugged, not convinced. "Really. Though I'm sorry to say that it's probably a size too small for you… now that I've seen you." He put a finger to his chin, gazing me up and down thoughtfully, whilst I reigned in the sudden rampant desire to huff with indignation. "It may just be a little too tight in the seat of the pants and thighs…" He finally declared, hands on hips and directing a dejected shaking of his head towards the ground.

I on the other hand, immediately perked up. "Now that I think about it… it really isn't that bad after all." Tight pants meant… well… let's just say a certain part of my rear anatomy would be subject to more attention than the Mona Lisa and leave it at that, shall we?

Oriya laughed again as he moved around the counter to my side. He seemed then to recall just what we were on our way to do and the humor left his eyes and voice.

"Follow me." He said in his best Old Testament voice. He made his way over to the hallway he previously tugged me away from. I noticed then how dark and cold it seemed down there. "This way."

I took a deep breath and followed him into the shadow.

XxXxXxXxXx

I had performed examinations on a lot of bodies in my time. I'd passed the requirements necessary to work as a medic in the Summons Section of the Ministry but I wasn't exactly what you would call a doctor, by a long stretch. (Though I did sometimes pretend to be, just for bragging rights you understand.) In life I had briefly considered undertaking a medical degree but in the end decided to pursue a career in Mechanical Science, since inventing and tinkering were my true passions. That and having to cut open a body and determine the cause of death was just not suited to a softy like me. As a Shinigami though, I'd had to vanquish that mortal coil in order to perform the tasks to which I was appointed.

As a scientist and a Medic, I'd been presented with the bodies of adults, elderly people and children. In my business they had all died suspected supernatural deaths so none of them had been pretty. Vampire victims, strangulation, stabbings, decapitation, intestines pulled from their abdomens, torn apart, the gruesome list went on and on. Some cases were more heartbreaking than others; some were more violent than others. All were classified outside of the realm of normality.

I was assured that much in my line of work.

I stood in the doorway of the cursed room, staring down at the three forms hidden beneath what had been at one point in time, white sheets. Someone had possessed the decency to cover them up. The pentagram drawn with their blood, was not the expected six-pointed star typically connected with dark magic. This was more an old fashioned pentacle; a hexagon in the center, surmounted by a series of stretched triangles that swept off of the apex of each side of the center hexagon. A circle encased it and each triangle had a scribble of demonic text tracing the border.

I retrieved the camera from the kit and took a few pictures of my own, zooming in on the writing specifically. The air stank of blood but the bodies had not yet started to decompose, owing to the stasis spell that Jun Takamiya had cast, following her initial examination. I looked over my shoulder at Oriya, his expression dark and grim.

"What exactly _is _that writing?" He questioned softly, fingers brushing then curling back across his throat self-consciously.

I waved about the instant pictures, manipulating the development before I filed each one into a plastic sheet for later examination. I then crouched near the closest triangle of the pentacle, making sure my feet did not obscure any line of blood that had been used to draw it. I had to lean close to make out the writing. My eyesight can be a real drag sometimes.

"_Looks like Old Lucifuges specific text." _Ichibana muttered. I was surprised to find that it was awake; considering what an exhausting night it had had. "_Then again, the stroke of the forward inscription here is all wrong for Lucifuges. It may be a demon from a lower level pantheon."_

I nodded. "You do have a point. It's unlike any sigil I've ever seen… as though a number of signatures have been thrown together."

"_Think someone's trying to throw you off of the track?."_

"Deterrence would be a wise move to make following this murder. My initial assumption was that this was the scene of a summoning and that the three girls were used as sacrifices for the demon being called upon."

"_Ditto. But this looks ta me like the whole summoning appearance was just a decoy. Something else is going on here."_

"I agree. It just seems _way _too suspicious for my liking."

Oriya blinked at me, clearly confused. I quickly brought him up to speed with my traveling companion and what we had been discussing. I tried to simplify it as much as possible but I still think it went over Oriya's head.

"So what you're saying is, is that this text- '' He pointed to the floor. "And the pentagram… has not been used for the purpose of a summoning?"

I nodded. "Well… not for summoning an individual demon anyway."

"How can you tell that?"

"Well the demonic scripture, my dear!" I exclaimed as though any idiot and his dog should have got it by this point. "Here, this line here for example. Demon's as a race don't all speak and follow the same language. It's much like the human race! According to the Pantheon – _level – _from which they originate, a demon takes on a certain written language, spoken language, even smaller aspects such as accents and pronunciation. The one thing they all maintain however is that each language is kept separate. This particular line here should be a coded Paralysis Directive, as it is placed in the triangle on the right of the pentacle, where it is believed that physical strength and mana are situated in the demon's essence. The Paralysis Directive binds the demon immobile within the pentacle, whilst the Sahir or Summoner, relays their commands." I ran my finger through the air over the line, murmuring the words to myself as I translated them. I grinned. "Ordinarily, a Paralysis Directive would entail three or more lines. The first line Invites, the second line Conveys the intent of the Sahir and the third line Ensnares. This sentence is completely backward. It has _four _lines. The structure indicates that this symbol is not in fact used for summoning but rather a signature_._ And the fact that four lines are present is… peculiar to say the least._"_

The djinni in my glasses giggled and Oriya just continued to look perplexed.

"Okay… and that means?"

I shrugged, wondering at the same time just what it was that had tickled the djinni's funny bone. "Signatures or sigils only ever contain _one _individual structure. A series of interconnecting strokes, within a double-lined sphere. But this sigil… if that is what it is, contains four, which would make it difficult to interpret the responsible demon. This is a pattern I've never seen before… either our 'demon' is trying to hide his true identity by cracking a number of other Underdwellers names in with its' own, in other words; shaking it up a bit. Or… it's just trying to cover its' ass."

Oriya chuckled softly and scratched the back of his head. I pulled myself up short from taking another long perve on his chest and instead mentally slapped myself on both cheeks. _Later. _Right now I had a job to do.

"Did anyone move anything in the room?" I asked. It was a required question. "Did anyone touch anything; remove an object, like the murder weapon for example?"

He shook his head. "No murder weapon was found and the only person who has been into this room was me. And that was to cover the girls up." He indicated the sheets and rubbed a hand across his brow. I could see a slight film of sweat had popped out across his tanned skin. "But I knew only an idiot would touch something and leave fingerprints where they shouldn't be. Still, you'd probably find mine around here anyway. I'm in and out of these rooms all the time."

His words were weak and rushed. He was tense just being here. "Mibu-san, you're not required to stay. I can perform the examination by myself."

"No, it's fine." He said wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his yukata. I watched as he fished a long ornate pipe out of his pocket and pressed it between his lips. Then he thought better of it and put it away. "Inappropriate." He said more to himself than to me. I just gave him the gentlest smile I could muster, understanding how desperately he must have craved just a single moment of peace.

A nasty little thought came to me just then, something I hadn't before considered as a result of my infatuation. What if Oriya was the killer? I glanced over at him, wishing I could have been certain that this substantial man had nothing to do with it. He was the obvious suspect though, now I thought about it. I doubted Muraki's involvement when the man himself had presented me with the common sense of the situation; being that Oriya would have swept the crime under the carpet if it was his friend that had been the perpetrator. Wouldn't Oriya do the same for himself rather than call me in? The only fathomable reason I could come up with, was that it may have been a distraction for activity elsewhere but this too just seemed way too out there. I decided right then that I wanted to eliminate Oriya from the suspect list as quickly as possible. And not just because of the obvious. What if the Police accused him of committing the murders? I needed to get this solved before the inefficient law system got their grimy little hands all over it. The media would definitely support the mysterious notion of the pimp murdering his own prostitutes. It sounded like same bad T.V special.

"Mibu-san, I'm going to take sexual abuse kits of each of the victims." I informed him as I made my way delicately about the room. I wanted to leave the girl who looked like her until last, so I headed toward the sheet where I could see long black hair peeking out from beneath. Jun had already informed us that there had been absolutely no evidence of sexual assault but I found that quite difficult to believe given my personal history with the case. I needed to assure myself beyond doubt and this would mean checking for injuries and volitions that might not have been otherwise standard. "The procedure follows as such; skin from underneath the nails, saliva, seminal excretion, vitae, vaginal swabs etc. It's not the most respectful thing to witness so if you don't believe you can handle seeing the procedure –"

"Watari-san, thankyou for your concern but these are my girls." He said, leaning against the doorframe but not actually entering the room itself. I was glad. It gave me more space to work. "I have to be here with them. They deserve that. And I'm sure you wouldn't object to the company."

_God bless you Oriya Mibu. _"No. I wouldn't object at all."

I opened the supply kit and retrieved a pair of latex gloves. I realized I would have to take off my sleeves in order to put these on and cursed myself internally for not thinking of it before. Still, there were more important things to concern myself now than _that. _Sighing, I pulled off the sleeves and stuffed them into my pants pockets, snapping on the latex gloves and making sure each finger was fitted securely into place. If Oriya noticed the marks on my inside elbows he didn't say anything. He was occupied with the bodies of his girls and wasn't perusing my body like some kind of tactless pervert. I liked that about him.

I paused with my fingers atop the sheet. "Oriya… the girl who lived… she remains in the hospital in Hokkaido?"

"She's been in a coma since before I found her." He said in a matter of fact voice. "You surely didn't think I would have her returned here? Not in her condition."

I almost _had _expected her to be here but I didn't say that. "No. I just needed to be sure. The hospital staff would have taken their own sexual abuse kit from her. Which reminds me," I glanced up at Oriya. "Surely you knew who was with your girls the night that they died. Don't you have like a list of names or something?"

His eyes answered before his mouth did. "It was a paid leisure night." He said sullenly, arms crossed over his broad chest. "We'd all eaten dinner together and some of the girls went out to the entertainment district in _Gion Kobu_. I went and saw a movie. When I came back I went straight to my room and read for a while. Then I fell asleep. The next morning one of the maids woke me and told me that… _this _had happened." He swallowed deeply, his Adam's apple rising and falling. "Who they bring home on their own account is their own business. Watari-san. Not mine. I'm guessing that is what happened in this case. I came in here and they were still wearing the clothes they went out in. I… wanted to preserve their modesty but I thought if I touched them I would take the blame for their murders. The best I could do was cover them with these sheets." He shook his head. "The best I could do… for _my_ girls." He closed his eyes and placed a hand over his face as though caging it up. I felt sorry for him but knew I had a job to do and that took priority.

"And the girl that survived the attack?" I asked, fighting back the overwhelming tides of my emotions.

Oriya's smooth voice was watery. It was racked with underlying tears that had not yet fallen from his eyes. "Seki… she was unconscious from the beatings. So I picked her up and called in a couple of favors in the local hospital. They came and took her away. She was then transferred to the specialist facility in Hokkaido." He sighed and his face arrowed downwards even further. "I know they think that it was me. I thought if I called the police, all those unsolved cases involving Muraki would start to pop up. I've almost taken the fall for him more than once. This time, I might really be in the shit. So, I got in touch with a contact of mine who has… well, one foot in each world I suppose you might say. He allowed me the means with which to get in contact with your Ministry. The symbol on the floor was supernatural enough I figure and I guess… I'm hoping that maybe you could clear this up before the police pick up on it. I don't know. I'm just… running out of steam at the moment."

I felt an unexplainable wave of pride for this man. He had taken so many stupid risks just to defend that ass Muraki and might even end up in jail for it. "I don't think you did it." I told him. He looked up at me, surprised by the confidence in my voice. "I don't think that it's in your best interests Mibu-san, I really don't. But the sooner we know that for certain, the sooner you're off the hook. So I want you to supply me with a semen sample, a strand of hair, a teensy weensy bit of blood, a skin scraping, fingerprints and a swab of your saliva. When I've compared that to the evidence I'll get from the sexual abuse kits, I'm sure that we'll be able to cross you off the list! You won't mind doing that will you?"

He leant his head back against the door and puffed his cheeks out. "Not at all, mate. The sooner the better."

I nodded and then braced myself for the cursory examination. I had to be in the right frame of mind to work and even now, with Oriya standing only a few feet away, I was finding it almost impossible to get started. I finally managed to muster the courage and gently peeled the sheet off of the first girl.

"What is her name?" That was my next question. Oriya seemed a little surprised but he answered regardless.

"Karu Tanako."

She was the dark haired girl, the one who looked as though she was only just out of high school. She was lying on her side, her head angled upward at an obscure angle. She'd suffered a frenzied assault; thirty-nine reported stab wounds had been inflicted from her throat to her lower abdomen. The slice to the abdomen was particularly vicious and by probing carefully with my fingers I was able to feel where part of the womb had been removed, just as Jun had reported. The cut across her neck was practically closed over with dried vitae and the pretty white dress with the square cut neck she had been wearing was stained completely red. The bottom of the dress had been hitched up to expose her and her panties had been pulled down to her feet. I eased her onto her back, cradling the crown of her head gently as I would a baby.

"There you go." I told her, slowly turning her face upward. Her eyes were still open and I reached over to close them, shaking my head as I did. "What kind of heartless bastard did this to you girl? You're still only a baby."

I had put a little venom into it, knowing full well that Oriya knew exactly what I meant. I gave him a look over my shoulder. "Yes, I'm fully aware that a particular friend of yours has done this and much more, Mibu-san. You were thinking it too I'm sure."

"Muraki wouldn't have done this to anyone in my service." Oriya muttered coldly, completely missing the point. Muraki wasn't a suspect in my investigation. But he was still a cold blooded killer and Oriya covered up for him, knowing full well the pain it caused other people when he took the lives of their loved ones. It was quite all right for him to despise the person who did this because it hit so close to home. I don't think he actually considered the irony of it though. That the person who committed this crime was no better than the man that he called 'friend.'

I turned back to Karu and took the time to pull the hem of her dress down, to protect her modesty. I removed her underwear from around her ankles and bagged them, intending to examine them later for traces of semen or other clues that may have revealed the killers identity. I reached into the kit for the instruments I would need to acquire the necessary evidence, shaking my head still.

"You poor darling," I said sadly as I retrieved the instrument used to acquire traces of semen in the vaginal tract. It was a nasty looking thing I couldn't even recall the name of. It sort of resembled a chip scooper. "You should be out having fun at parties instead of being here with me."

I noticed Oriya had taken a seat on one of the chairs near the door. I had to put him out of mind though and focus on my task. Even though Karu was not about to protest, I couldn't bring myself to continue until I had done something about the state of the instrument. It was horrible and cold. I'd never had to contend with one of these being stuffed into my body before, thank God, but I imagined it was one of the most unpleasant things on earth. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

"I remember the first time I used one of these things whilst studying at the Ministry." I said aloud, talking to both Karu and Oriya and at the same time, neither of them. "All the other students didn't have a problem with it but I remember thinking how awful it must have felt. The girl we were working on, well she was dead so it wasn't like she really cared but… still didn't make much of a difference to me. I can be impractical like that I suppose."

I did the same thing as I had done back then, which had resulted in marks deducted because of possible bacterial contamination. I cupped my hand around the instrument and breathed deeply into it a few times, warming the metal. Oriya watched me intently. I could tell because I could see his reflection in the instrument as I held it up to my face.

"These things are so cold." I explained to both of them. "When I've had to use it on conscious patients they'd complain. I always try to warm it up a little, though it usually just gets me in trouble." I tested the metal with my palm and decided that it wasn't nearly as bitter as before. I tugged the sheet back over Karu's midsection, pulling it down until it reached her ankles. Once again, it wasn't practical but I had enough experience to work without the aid of my eyes and the poor girl had gone through enough.

I know that as a Medic I need to view the deceased body as nothing more than an empty shell that the soul has vacated. That its' responsibility now, as a corpse was to shed knowledge in light of its death. Well, I'm sorry but that is never how it has worked for me. A body is a body. This girls name was Karu. She wasn't a cadaver. She wasn't a corpse. Her soul was gone and I wasn't going to torture myself into thinking that it was still there. She was dead. Plain and simple.

But I wasn't going to forfeit my compassion by giving her some disconnecting name or treating her like a piece of meat. Dead or alive she was still a young woman and a woman is to be treated respectfully. Lose sight of that and I would lose a lot more than just my integrity.

I extended both arms under the blanket, using my free hand to gently part her thighs. Oriya had made his assumption of their sexual abuse using his common sense, the manner in which their bodies had been presented. But Jun had been correct in her previous examination, as well she should have been given her level of experience in the field. There was no indication of forceful penetration, no swelling of the labia or tearing of the interior canal walls. Nonetheless, I inserted the device, just to make absolutely certain that no trace of semen could be found in the vaginal tract and turned to Oriya with the most supportive expression I could muster.

"This may not be the kind of assurance you were hoping for," I told him. "But for what it's worth, she hasn't been sexually assaulted."

This validation brought him no satisfaction. His head dropped as though he had lost the strength to keep it straight upon his neck.

"Oh sweetheart…" He murmured and I assumed he was talking to Karu. "Why didn't you just call for me? I would have heard you. I would have been there if you needed me…"

I watched a tear slide down across his cheek and slowly slide out of sight beneath his chin. I wanted to leap up and pull his head into my chest, assure him that everything would be all right and I'd find whoever did this and make them pay. But I couldn't. I had to finish the kits first and then I would attend to Oriya.

I would need him by then too.

"I'm sorry." I told him lamely. But what else could I say? _Shee whiz, that sucks, huh? _Or, _Yeah, them's the breaks. _It was impossible to say the right thing in this situation.

I finished taking the sample and transferred the trace onto absorbent paper and bagged the evidence. Dispassionate competence took over and I proceeded through the rest of the examination, bagging the evidence as I encountered it. When I had finished with Karu, I pulled the sheet over her entire body and moved onto the next girl; the redhead. Oriya told me her name was Terumi. The injuries she had sustained were similar to Karu's but unlike the younger girl, the cut to the throat was cavernous. The implement that had been used to inflict the attack had sliced deep through the skin and subcutaneous flesh, down to the bone itself. Such as the first victim, her abdomen had been compromised. A thin blade had been inserted into the vagina and tugged violently upward to split the womb from the inside out and open the abdominal cavity entirely. I felt the crown of her head with my fingers and came across a contusion where most likely, she had been thrown hard against the wall, if the bloodied semi-circle on the plaster to my immediate left was anything to judge by. I could feel that her skull had been fractured, possibly before death. It hit me then, that Terumi was not actually a redhead. The color of her hair was a platinum blonde, so fair that it was almost white. I could see the roots were light. The attacker had covered his hands in her blood and then rubbed it into her hair, staining it red. I spoke softly to her, my one sided conversation keeping me sane in light of my final examination. Before long I had completed Terumi's sexual abuse kit and set aside the bagged evidence. Two down one to go.

Oriya observed my hesitation. He leaned forward in his chair. "Are you all right? Would you like to get some air before continuing?"

I swallowed back a very meaty gag. I had to get in control of myself. I couldn't throw up here and now like I had at the Ministry yesterday. I closed my eyes, allowing myself a brief moment to reign in my emotions.

_You are a medic. You've done this a million times before. You've done this to the loved ones of others and they were no more precious than she is. You are a medic. You've done this a million times before. You can do it now. You are a medic. It's not her… she is safe. She rests in Hokkaido, far from here. No matter how much this girl looks like her… you can't afford to let yourself be confused._

"I'm a medic. I can do this." I breathed the mantra in and out, over and over until I finally felt the soothing words take effect. I covered Terumi with the sheet and picked up the supply kit, carrying it over to the white veil shrouding the final victim. I could see waist length blonde hair peeking out from beneath the material. My body heaved.

Oriya was at my side in an instant, his hands cupped beneath my armpits. "Clearly you've done enough. Come away for now, you can finish up later."

"No." I insisted, battering at his hands and then quickly placing my fingers over my mouth as my stomach heaved again. "No." I repeated more firmly. "It has to be over and done with. Now."

"Listen, I won't think any less of you if you feel ill." Oriya whispered, kneeling beside me. He placed his hand on the center of my back and moved his hand in a tender circle, a kind gesture I never thought the man capable of. "Just take a breather and then finish it off. For five minutes at least."

His kindness was wavering my resolve to remain and complete the task and that was something I didn't need. I knew if I left now, I would only procrastinate on returning to finish it off. I might have even convinced myself I had all the necessary evidence and could forego this one victim I didn't have the balls to face. I shook my head. It wasn't professional. I needed _all _the evidence if I wanted the right person convicted of this horrible crime. I allowed my forehead to rest against Oriya's shoulder for just a moment and he made as though to stand up and bring me with him. I wanted to let him take me out of here. I wanted him to bundle me up and hide me so I wouldn't have this responsibility any more. I wanted him to protect me.

In Kyoto, my city of dreams, I should have been able to entertain this whimsy. But here in this moment my reality was a nightmare. And nightmares had to be confronted or you would spend your life running from them. I shook my head and pulled his hand away from me.

"Thanks." I said. "But I'll be all right now. Let's get this over and done with, eh?"

He didn't look happy at my decision but he let me have my way, returning to the chair across the room and sitting down. His eyes remained on me the whole time.

I took a deep breath and pulled back the sheet before I lost my nerve. The first thing I did was shut her eyes. They were the same color as my own, the same color as _hers_ no doubt and I couldn't stand the awful familiarity staring up at me. I couldn't allow my mind to deceive me, lest I fall into despair. For whatever reason, by one small stroke of fate, I had been spared the sight of my loved one in this poor girls place. I would not forget that. _Could not _forget that.

Oriya told me that her name had been Kiekemi. She had been the 'younger sister' of the head geisha Akemi, her protégée, in so saying. I could now understand the grief I had been witness to, when Akemi had elegantly lowered her chin to me in the foyer. A thousand poetic verses have been written about a woman's sorrow and often a curt bow, or small smile conveys a pain that is too deep for words. Oh yes, I understood the thousands of meanings behind the simple curve of a person's lips. I understood it all too well.

She hadn't been beaten like Terumi but the slice across her throat had been considerably more brutal than the other two. It was deeper; it had severed the vocal cords. Her expression was frozen in the same mortal dread I had seen on the computer screen but now that her eyes were shut, I was able to look upon her without feeling as though she were glaring up at me. Her abdomen was entirely laid open, just as Jun had described and her intestines had been lifted from the abdominal cavity and arranged about her shoulders. The womb had been forcibly removed, garroting the sides of the lesion into red raw ribbons.

I had tried to internally prepare myself for the shock but it was impossible to dismiss my emotions in regards to this. Even with Oriya there, I did not want to handle the body. I glanced around the room. Though it was well lit and tamely decorated, though there were no shadows, there was something about the room that put me on edge. Her body was dead and at the same time, I found it hard to rationalize that her soul was gone. I had massive respect for the dead (even before I was one myself, you know) but I didn't believe that the body had to be considered a sacred thing to be reverentially left alone. Lord knows I'd let enough people desecrate my own. But the blonde haired beauty did not seem like a discarded vessel to me. The cut to her neck and the condition of her abdomen left no doubt in my mind that she was dead but I couldn't hurdle the niggling little thought that whatever essence ignited the soul of a being within the body, what little 'something' that was there before the moment of death, was still ensnared within the husk unable or beyond the capacity to escape.

I knew I was being ridiculous. I was making excuses to get up and leave the room now, excuses that may have worked if I had actually planned to perform an autopsy on the body. I wasn't doing that. I was making a sexual abuse kit, something I had done more times than I cared to name on victims dead and alive. It didn't injure them in any way and I always ensured that they were as comfortable as possible in the process, regardless of their condition. Reassuring myself of this factor made another part of me angry. I wanted to tear my hair out in frustration, my thoughts and emotions at war with one another. The rational part of me told me to just quit horsing around and get it the fuck over with. I wasn't going to take to her with a scalpel and cut and dissect her. It wasn't murder. I was going to find out who had done this to her. I was going to help her.

_But if I had done the job right in the first place… she wouldn't have been here. She would still be alive. It's your fault…_

Oriya had been observing my internal struggle and he seemed to want to say something to break through my trance. Before he could say a word, I reached for the kit and removed the instruments needed for the examination. Bearing witness to his obvious concern, it was as though I had crossed a crucial barrier. Now I would be able to function. I could finish the job. I focused on maintaining my professionalism, go by the book and work step by step in acquiring the necessary evidence. Though I didn't speak to Kiekemi as I did the previous two, Oriya must have noticed that I was gentler with her. I squeezed her fingers after acquiring the skin sample and set her hands gently at her sides. She had been wearing a black dress that had been pushed aside in the perpetrators attempts to get his filthy hands all over her. Once I'd taken the vaginal swabs, I redressed her, pulling her dress back into place and straightening it up as best I could. She hadn't been raped but the bastard had groped her so forcibly he'd left handprints all over her pale skin, particularly around her breasts. My blood was boiling. I could feel my teeth screeching as they ground together, the veins in my temple extending out from beneath the skin. Oriya was staring at me intently and I wondered if he could hear the torture I was exacting on my body. As a swordsman he had displayed preternatural skills, which may have had something to do with being vastly attuned to his environment. Perhaps he could see or hear these tiny factors I barely registered myself.

I adjusted Kiekemi's body, turning it on its' side so I could examine the lateral and posterior segments. Something had been written on her lower back in blood. I assumed that it had been the vitae from her own wounds, but in the off chance it wasn't, I took a small sample of it and snapped a picture of the writing. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't written in demonic scripture, coded, rearranged or anything. It was written in kanji and said simply; _'Where would you go?_'

I couldn't make heads or tails of this at the time, so I continued on with the examination. Moving on from the writing I performed the derogative task to check whether or not Kiekemi had been anally raped. The previous two girls had not but I couldn't be sure that there was more than one perpetrator and that one of them may have had a sicker fetish than those he had accompanied.

Thankfully, for what it was worth, she had been spared _that _humiliation. Having concluded the examination, I gently set her head back on the floor. Rather than a sense of achievement, I just felt drained and somber. I needed a drink.

I leant down and whispered into her ear. "I'm sorry, darling." I covered her with the sheet, packed all the evidence I had acquired up into the one kit and pulled off my gloves. It was done. I had made it through in one piece.

Oriya came over to my side and offered me his hand. I accepted and allowed him to pull me to my feet. He gave my shoulder a little squeeze and smiled comfortingly at me.

"Thankyou." He said. He meant it.

I returned the smile though I'm sure mine was a piss-poor effort. "My job is just getting started. I'm going to need you to bring me all the knives in this establishment. I'll need to see if any of them were used as the murder weapon. And Oriya? You should get someone to come and take these girls away now. They've been through hell. And I think that it's time you notified their families."

"I'll notify Karu, Kiekemi and Terumi's families," He murmured his hand rubbing the small of my back. "But… Seki doesn't have a family, except for those of us here. She's an orphan."

"Tell me about her." I said.

"Seki was adopted by my Aunt and Uncle, twenty-two years ago, when she was nine. My Uncle was the proprietor before me. Her parents had died in an accident, I heard and she had nowhere to go. She's been working here for longer than I have." Oriya smiled reflectively. "She's a year older than I am. When she saw the geisha here, she really pushed to start training as an apprentice, though at nine years it was a little late. Regardless… she's one of the most esteemed geisha at _Kokakuro_, her dancing skills place her very much in demand." He chuckled to himself. "Though… she and Akemi never really got along all that well. Akemi finds Seki to be a little… brash. Unorthodox, even. Physically, they are very much alike, so I suppose it's only natural that there's something of a competitive streak."

"Were you close? You and this Seki?"

His eyes strayed towards the rafters, as though weighing up the value of their association. "Not particularly. I was living in Tokyo when I was a teenager and didn't assume responsibilities here until my early twenties. I care about her as much as I care about any one of my girls. To be honest… I believe Seki found me to be something of a… drag."

I stifled a snort that threatened to explode into laughter. "A 'drag?' Am I to assume those were her words?"

Oriya's neutral features shifted into a slow smile that seemed a little uncomfortable whence appearing on his serious face. I imagined I could almost hear the skin on the sides of his mouth creaking in protest.

"Well… if I am to trust Akemi." He smiled and shook his head, his hair rolling off of his shoulders and swaying about his face like dark curtains. "I suppose I can be a little too serious for my own good… that's what everyone tells me anyway."

I felt a little charmed by his admission and expressed this with a gentle punch to his chest. "People should know better than to try and roll a steam-train sideways. You are who you are meant to be. If Seki can't appreciate that about you then… well, that's her problem."

Oriya was looking at me as though something extraordinarily bizarre had just happened to my face and I wondered for one heart stopping moment whether I had offended him. I was just preparing to back up so quickly I would have stumbled over my heels, when to my relief, I saw his full lips twitch back up into that familiar, uncomfortable smile.

"Why Shinigami-san… that was rather poetic of you. And I confess; I liked hearing it."

I returned his smile but it fell quickly as I caught sight of the white sheets shrouding the girls from immediate sight, from the corner of my eye. "You seem to be taking this well." I murmured, looking up into his eyes. I could see the turmoil there, even if he didn't express it outwardly.

"Looks can be deceiving." He said, proving my suspicions. "It's not… proper to act emotional before a guest. Now, come. Let's leave this room and you can put that evidence away. I should organize for the bodies to be collected and notify the families. If you want to see me emotional, you should stick around until I have them on the other end of the phone."

He led me out into the hallway and fished a set of keys out of his pocket. He locked the doors and then gestured for me to follow as he led me down the hallway toward the Main Entrance.

"Let me ask you something Watari-san. How does a gentle soul such as yourself end up performing an unsavory job like this?" He inquired, eyes focused unwaveringly into the distance. I smiled up at him.

"Just what makes you suppose that I am in any way gentle?"

"Oh, it wasn't at all difficult to see. The way you spoke to those girls as though they could still hear you. The way you treated them. You performed that examination so humanely, with such care and compassion. You had sympathy for them." He locked his eyes on me and I could sense there was no deceit in his voice. He meant what he was saying. "You're quite something, you know that? After spending every year since high school with Muraki, spending an afternoon with you is like caviar on toast. I've gone from one extreme to the other." He sounded proud for some inexplicable reason. I guessed that being compared to caviar on toast was a flattering compliment in his mind but imagining myself as fish eggs just gave me the willies. Though, he basically just said he preferred my company and three dead girls to that of Muraki. Gee… that sting's doesn't it doc?

I couldn't even muster up a giggle at my cheeky thoughts. All my bounce had gone flat. I was like soda that had lost its' bubbles.

We emerged out into the Main Entrance. There was no one else around. I waited in the adjoining sitting room with a glass of chilled barley tea – for we were in the heat of summer - as Oriya called in a favor to remove the girls bodies and then one by one, contacted their families. By the time he'd left the reception area, his eyes look sore and red from too much rubbing and his jaw was firm set, as though he were clenching his teeth far beyond his ability to relax.

"Well… that's certainly going to be added to my list of 'things I won't do twice.'" He murmured, sitting down opposite me at the table, seeming to wince as he tucked his left leg underneath himself. He slid his fingers tiredly across his forehead and then down his face to rest beneath his chin, sighing deeply. I felt my own features drop in sympathy for him.

"I sure am sorry you gotta go through this." I said, tightening my fingers about the barely touched glass. "If there's anything I can do to help…"

Oriya made a brief, dissuasive movement with his hand before returning it to his chin. "You've got more than enough to concern yourself with." He made brief eye contact that landed as heavily in my heart as an anchor weighs itself into the depths of the ocean. "Thankyou for the thought. But this is something I need to do myself." He fished his pipe out of his inside pocket and idly examined it from all angles. "I failed to protect them… the very least I can do is accord their families the due respect. My feelings are the least important factor at play here."

I set my glass down slowly on the table, afraid my voice would crack when I tried to speak. I took a few moments to clear an imaginary constriction from my throat and managed to say, "Forgive me, Mibu-san, for I understand that this is inappropriate timing on my part. However…" I winced at hearing how stiff and insincere I sounded when using standard Japanese. "I… really believe that it would be prudent of me to get those samples assessed as quickly as possible. Your own included." I ducked my head quickly as he raised his eyes to look at me with an incalculable expression. I imagined he thought me quite insensitive to have brought this up now. "I really am sorry. I know how this must sound but I… it-it's standard procedure." I finished lamely.

Rather than berate me for my insolence, I was surprised to hear Oriya make an odd huffing noise from his nose. I dared to raise my eyes and I saw that he was smiling at me with the sort of fond patience most adults preserve for the awkward whimsies of their children. "You don't need to be so formal. I agreed with you that it was best, did I not? I myself am most anxious to be removed as a possible suspect in your eyes." He took a measured sip from his own tea - the ice mostly already melted by this point - and then laced his fingers delicately together and turned to me in a gesture of utmost compliance. "What is it that you require of me, Watari-san?"

Well, I could not deny that my cheeks burned as his eyes came to focus on me, though I did my utmost to hide it. This man… I honestly did believe that he hadn't a clue just how charming he could be! The depth of his eyes and the composed manner by which his words and body both operated… I hadn't ever met anyone quite so extraordinarily peaceful. And not just in the sense that he himself was so meditative by personality but in the affliction of respite that he wrought in me. I was naturally such a boisterous individual, with energy to spare but far too many things going on in my mind to ever effectively deal with. Here now, before this soulful individual the world had left behind, I found my mind and body stilled and silent – abandoned of pervasive clamor. I earnestly wished to reach out and touch him – to see whether the world around us would collapse about me and fade into darkness.

"I…" I stopped, unsure of what I would say if I continued on and busied myself with my medical kit until my thoughts could be straightened out. "I'll start by taking a blood sample, if that's all right with you."

Oriya inclined his head briefly, eyes focused on some point in the garden. I was grateful for this, for I wasn't yet sure if the blood had receded from my cheeks. "That would be fine, Watari-san."

I fumbled with the plastic on the syringe, losing my grip on it once or twice before I was able to effectively peel it away from the paper backing. I ensured that the plunger was entirely depressed before inserting the needle into the hole at the top and then setting the syringe between my teeth as I prepared an anti-septic swab.

"Roll up your left sleeve, please." I requested, as I tilted the small bottle sideways to distribute the antiseptic into the cotton ball I held in my right hand. Oriya complied, sweeping the long sleeve out of the way to expose a deeply tanned forearm with an underside that seemed light and slender, regardless of his age. I thought he looked very attractive as he turned his wrist over to face upward, given me an unobstructed line to his inner elbow.

"Do you also work as a doctor at your Ministry?" He enquired, as I slipped away the antiseptic bottle and removed a small bag of cotton buds and a circular thumb sized bandage to administer once the blood test had been taken. I chuckled ironically about the plastic shaft of the syringe.

"Goodness no. I've had formal training as a medic, which is sort of all you need really if you're working with Shinigami. We tend to heal ourselves fairly effectively, as you no doubt can tell. Make a fist," I asked, waiting until he had obeyed and then examined the arm to detect the rising vein. I gave it two sharp slaps with my fingers to bring it to surface further and then stroked the wetted swab in a line across the distended flesh. Perhaps I was a little more tender than necessary but if Oriya noticed, he didn't say anything. "Cheers, mate. Anyway, you needn't concern yourself with the exact details of my qualifications. I happen to know what I'm doing when it comes to using needles, so you needn't worry about that."

Truth in actuality is that I had a little _too _much experience in that area. It would have surprised me greatly if I couldn't find a vein in even the pitch black of night with no glasses on. But I doubted Oriya would have been exactly impressed by _these _unsavory qualifications as it were, so I deemed it unnecessary to educate him further. I plucked the syringe out from between my teeth and ensured once more that the plunger was entirely depressed.

"You right?" I thought it best to check before I proceeded. "Not funny about needles or anything are ya; 'cause now's the time to tell me?"

Oriya just offered a slight smirk of his lips. "No, Watari-san, it's fine. I don't love them exactly but I believe I'll be able to handle this, so long as you are gentle with me."

I laughed a little to myself but felt that warm heat burn against my cheeks again. "Oh, I'm always gentle," I advised, perhaps against my better judgment. I lined up the point of the needle with the blue rise of the vein and forced my mind back from less distinguished thoughts. "Now, I'm sure every doctor says the same thing at this point, so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it anyway; you'll feel a slight sting, like a bee sting. And if you don't thrash around too much and scare the shit out of all my other patients, you'll get a lollypop."

"Oh, I love candy." Oriya intoned with a fake childlike enthusiasm that I couldn't help but laugh at. He did glance away as the needle penetrated his flesh and sipped his tea whilst I drew back the plunger, apparently not so removed that he found watching the procedure tolerable. I observed with some morbid fascination as his blood slowly filled the capsule; viciously red and somehow beautiful. This was the evidence of his continued existence, his human life in a physical representation. Blood that had swilled and pumped through his heart and around his body. From a skewed point of view I could almost understand a humans obsession with the vampire race; the fluvial desire to imbibe the essence of another. To take inside of yourself something that had transgressed through the most intimate and unreachable regions of their body… I was more than a little surprised to find myself thinking this way and quickly banished the thought, less it become increasingly more gruesome. I filled the capsule and quickly pressed the cotton bud down over the puncture mark, advising Oriya to apply pressure whilst I removed the needle from the syringe and plugged the capsule, writing 'MibuSample1' on the side before then storing it in a prepared slot within the case. Once I had safely discarded the needle, I removed the swab from Oriya's arm and applied the circular bandage to the wound. I was envisioned by the briefest desire to lay my lips upon the tiny mark before placing the bandaid on but fortunately caught myself in time. I passed Oriya a small bottle of apple juice from inside the case and advised that he drink it to keep his energy levels up.

"Don't try standing up too quickly for a little while," I said, removing a small scalpel and a sticky sided slip from out of the case now. "If you feel dizzy at any point, sit down and wait before trying to move again. Now, could you please extend whichever hand is not your preference?" Oriya demurely offered his left hand and I grasped it with my own, turning it over so that it faced palm up. He had lovely hands, with long shapely fingers and calluses worn into the palm and the distended areas beneath the fingers. I supported his index finger and placed the sampling strip beneath the nail. "Now, this shouldn't hurt but I'll warn you all the same. I'm going to take a small sample of your epidermis, which requires that I scrape along the upper most layer of skin. You ought not feel much besides myself running the blade across the flesh."

Oriya only nodded as I scraped the blade across his fingertip, requesting then that he assist me by removing a cotton swab from my medical bag as I concluded this initial procedure. He held it as I secured the skin sample and labeled it appropriately and I then plucked it from his grasp and requested that he open his mouth. He gave a slight grimace to demonstrate exactly what he thought of this.

"Oh, this is my least favorite part of any procedure…" He muttered, not saying no precisely but showing some meager semblance of defiance. "Very well but you must promise not to make fun of the number of fillings I have! I confess, I wasn't altogether dedicated to dental hygiene as a youngster and it's only in later years that I have started to pay for it."

I smiled indulgently as Oriya grudgingly cranked open his mouth. "Mibu-san… I wouldn't dream of poking fun at the condition of your teeth. Goodness knows, one more poke may indeed be the end of them."

His lips slammed together so tightly that they almost snapped the shaft of the swab in half. "You be nice now, you hear, or I shall downgrade your room to something in the old servants quarters. And mind you, they are no longer in use, so you may find the conditions to be a little less than hospitable compared to what you are currently accustomed!"

I laughed again and after a moment, he laughed as well, so I knew that he wasn't truly offended. "Oh Mibu-san, you must realize I didn't mean it! Besides, you only need to open your mouth a little for me to administer the swab! I'll hardly need it so wide that I can examine your wisdom teeth."

Oriya sighed a little, apparently relieved that the interior of his mouth was not about to be subjected to my scrutiny. "Well, that's fine then of course." Without further protest, he allowed for me to trace the swab about the insides of his cheeks with such decorum you wouldn't have imagined anything out of the ordinary was happening. He sipped at his tea once more as I stored the swab and then plonked a familiar looking jar with a stereotyped yellow lid onto the table beside his cup. Oriya glanced at it and then slowly looked at me as though I were truly being incommodious now.

"Might I finish my tea first?" He asked and he spoke with such innocent perplexity that he set me to laughing again, though I'm quite certain he didn't mean to be funny. I gave him a pat on the shoulder once I was able to compose myself.

"Mibu-san, I don't mean for you to go running off to the bathroom right at this moment. Just… as soon as is reasonably possible. If there's a slow moment or you're at a loss for something to do…"

"Oh, for goodness sake…" Oriya muttered, looking away with incredibly reddened features as he slipped the jar into the inside pocket of his yukata. "We needn't discuss the specifics of it. I shall get it to you by this evening. And please refrain from enquiring about it whenever I go somewhere alone. I'm not entirely comfortable with this entire thing."

He was truly embarrassed and I took sympathy on him then, giving his shoulder a pat to suggest that it was all well and good, before bringing the halves of the medical kit together and clicking the clasps into place. I meant to say something more but I recognized that in just one slip of passing time that the levity had left our conversation entirely and that sallow silence hung thick in the air. Sour and staunch upon the nose. Oriya was embarrassed about having to front up with a semen sample but just as effectively it served to remind him the very circumstances by which he was forced to endure that embarrassment.

Three girls brutally murdered under the most atrociously disturbing of circumstances. Beneath his care and protection. His roof. His _home_. How he felt precisely during this time I could only imagine. Even now, having spoken with him at depth of it provides me with little retrospect. The echoes of our laughter hung in the air and slowly drifted down to settle and fade upon our shoulders. I bit my lip, recalling then why I had been so despairing in taking this case. It had been _her_. She had been there, part of that gruesome tapestry. Alive but… god knows what damage had been done to her.

And it dawned on me then, how truly frightened I was. What if it _was _him? My tormentor… He'd already proved himself capable of bypassing as astute and powerful a man as Oriya Mibu. Who was to suggest that he could not succeed the same trick in a second instance? Only this time… it may have been me that was felled. And he owed me something far grander and significantly more horrific than what he had aptly demonstrated upon these innocent women. I gazed across table with a kind of quiet desperation, insisting on some reassurance I had no right to ask. Oriya's eyes did not respond; he stared into nothingness with his perfect oval face creased in the corners from strain and his mouth stretched thin to keep from turning down and submitting to what must have been commanding and rampant emotions. His hands clutched about his glass so tightly I imagined I could see the hairline fractures wending out from beneath his fingers.

I knew I needed to take the evidence straight to Gushoshin and start to analyze it but I was in the mood to shirk just one of my responsibilities for once. More than anything, I wanted to go around to the other side of that table, pull those hands between my own and assure him that everything would be all right. That he wasn't alone, didn't have to deal with everything on his own anymore…

The sadness in his eyes… as though he had resolved long ago to a solitary life.

It suddenly seemed all too much. I needed some air.

Smiling, trying not to alert Oriya to my true feelings, I climbed slowly up from the table and walked toward the garden doors of the Kokakuro, stepping through them into the dull, clouded light of outside. I started inhaling at the air as though I were an asthmatic suffering an attack. So many things about this episode had upset me deeply and I didn't even know where to begin. In the space of the last twenty-four hours I had elapsed into my old habits, been pounded into an alley wall by a violent man ten years older than my twenty-eight year body, been forced to get up at the dredge hours of the morning, splashed by a bus, stuck my hand in gum, made a spectacle of myself, yanked back into a distressing past which no one should have had to be reminded of, jerked around like a puppet on a string, learnt that some demon named Mitkiel was probably going to kill us all and then forced to see the one that I loved in that state and perform an examination on the bodies of three young girls who had been cruelly brutalized.

But the look in his eyes… that sadness made my own pain heavier somehow. Too heavy…

Though I knew it wouldn't help anything, I started crying. I pressed my hand over my face and sobbed, lowering my head to try and keep anyone from hearing me.

My body started rocking and my knees shuddered beneath me. I collapsed hard onto the deck, letting go of the medical kit and hiding my face in my hands, my entire body convulsing. I tried to smother myself, to keep it in, but a part of me wouldn't allow it.

_It has to come out_, it said. _It has to come out or it will poison you._

I knelt there and wept and wept, until I felt Oriya settle onto the deck beside me, legs collapsing ungainly before him much in the manner of a tired child. He had enough sense not to ask me what was wrong and sat in simple, reposed silence as I sniveled most unprofessionally. I could feel my nose coming unplug and had to pull myself up short from wiping it on my arm, an unrefined remnant from a childhood bedecked with poor behaviors. I tried to hide that I had even gone to indulge this particular bygone habit but nothing much escaped Oriya's attention, as I soon came to learn. He didn't say a word but reached into his flowing right hand sleeve and fished out a handkerchief, which he then handed to me. I muttered an embarrassed word of gratitude as I tugged off my glasses and flapped the handkerchief about my face in an ineffective attempt to mop up my tears.

It was only then when I regained some composure and I was handing Oriya's handkerchief back to him that I glimpsed his own tremulous expression with clearer vision. It would seem that my own tears had broken through whatever resolve Oriya had made to stay strong. Though he had made no indication of his grief, he had been crying for as long as I had.

"I…" I cut short. What I wanted to say was that I was sorry for acting like this. It must have looked so stupid to him, as though I were crying for no obvious reason other than the sympathy I felt for those girls. But the look in Oriya's eyes said quite blatantly that he didn't need to hear an apology from me.

"You truly are a gentle soul." He said, as though this hullabaloo were proof enough. He reached out, tentatively at first and then clapped his hand to my shoulder with a sort of conviction; as though the thickness of emotion had been weighing heavy on his arm for some time and it was with relief that he finally succumbed to it. "Thankyou. This is what I've needed for so long. For someone to cry with me. Thankyou."

For once in my life I was speechless. This had been a pretty surreal day for an undead scientist from Hades.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

**Tsuzuki**

"I miss him!" I moaned.

"He's only been gone five and a half hours." Hisoka reasoned, pushing a stack of paper work towards me encouragingly. For some indeterminably reason, I became even more depressed.

"What am I going to do without Watari?" I wondered, sinking my head into the paper and using it as a pillow. Hisoka looked on disapprovingly. "No one spiking the coffee with sex-change potions. No smoke billowing up from the lab. No one to carry me home from the bar…"

Someone smacked me hard in the back of the head. I whimpered and gazed up to meet the impassive, unconcerned glare of Hajime Terazuma. He scowled and tapped me on the noggin with the corner of the manila folder he was carrying.

"This way you might actually get some work done, you lazy crybaby." He growled. "I think this way we'll ALL finally get some work done. I haven't felt safe to drink coffee from here in twenty-two years! Even now I'm a little apprehensive… who knows if he left anything behind?" He eyed the coffee machine warily.

"I'm sure Watari didn't!" I piped up supportively. Terazuma just rolled his eyes, unconvinced and stalked away back to his own desk. I watched despondently as he swung into his seat, slapping his boots down atop the table much to Wakaba's surprise.

I'm not sure why it is exactly that Terazuma and I have never gotten along. Whether it was because it was just mismatched personalities or the fact that I'm most probably gay, I've never really settled on a satisfactory conclusion. He does indeed strike me as the manner of individual who would discriminate against homosexuals but out of anyone in the Ministry, it is only me that he seems to have an issue with. He gets along well with Watari, who is openly promiscuous by nature, which confuses me somewhat. Though Watari doesn't consider himself to be gay. He says that he is 'bisexual' though I've only ever seen him with men. Being immortal leaves plenty of room for experimentation and Watari was certainly living up to his profession as a scientist.

Perhaps I envied him that a little. Watari was so in touch with his sexuality. He didn't mind that anyone knew who was sharing his bed. (Or lab table more often than not. Sterile work environment my ass.) I guess that's why Terazuma never got the best of him. Tatsumi told me it's because Watari laughs it off, stands up for himself, doesn't take it personally.

I wish I could have been more like that. But it's not the man I am. I'd always known I had a preference for men. It was a definitive categorization from my childhood onwards. I'd seen the way people looked at me and I knew that they knew too. The stares were not just on account of my abnormal colored eyes or my flawless skin that never seemed affected in any way. The first time I had kissed a girl, I knew that somehow it wasn't right for me. But I had run from it, just as I had run from everything else in my life.

The way that I was running now.

I was running from Hisoka, sitting only a body length away from me. Running from the responsibility of meeting his eyes. Of getting too close to him and having him read my thoughts. My secret guilt.

Muraki had kissed me last night.

I hadn't run then.

I _didn't run from him. _

Didn't run. Even when I was running from everything else.

For the first time in my life, in those few moments I stood completely still and let him swallow me up. I had fallen into my nightmare and entered his dreams. All along I knew the fall would scar and terrify me. But that's what falling through a nightmare does I suppose.

And falling was not running. It was surrendering to something you have no hope of understanding. Something that frightens you because you know it is wrong to find any pleasure in an act that makes you feel so… stained at the very same time.

I had run to my death. I had run to suicide and even then the blood ran from me, as though trying to tear itself from the body that so mercilessly encaged it to such a filthy soul.

"Don't see much pen movement there."

I popped out of my thoughts and quickly scrabbled for the nearest scrap of paper I could find. Tatsumi stood a few feet from me, his smile uncharacteristically plain.

"Sorry!" I squeaked as papers went flying about me in my panic to catch a hold of any single one of them. I could see Hisoka shaking his head from behind the white wall I had created. "Tatsumi! You know, you really shouldn't sneak up behind people like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"That should be the least of your concerns." The secretary grumbled, catching a few pieces of paper as they floated through the air in front of him. He set them down gently on my desk and straightened his glasses. Tatsumi was an unusual visage of color today. Whilst usually he was more comfortable in a somber brown suit, today he was wearing navy blue with a crisp (and most likely cheap) striped tie of the same color. For him this was quite flamboyant, though next to Watari in plain clothes it would most likely go unnoticed.

"That's a nice suit!" I remarked, dumping all the loose pages on top of my desk in a messy pile. A vein in Tatsumi's forehead throbbed. "Is there some sort of special occasion? Are you going swimming in your Yen room again?"

He chuckled light heartedly. Owing to Tatsumi's fastidious caution with money, the handful of Shinigami assigned to the Summons Section, had adopted the nickname 'Scrooge' for him, more so in honor of the Western Disney cartoon character. A duck with a Scottish Accent. It was Watari who conned this honorific, after we both envisioned what Tatsumi did in his spare time and came to the conclusion that he had a secret room in the Ministry filled with yen that he went swimming in. I would not actually be surprised if this turned out to be fact rather than fabrication. The man probably lines his bed with dollar bills before he goes to sleep and has a plushie of a yen sign to curl up with. He even has pajamas with yen signs on them. Okay… so Watari and I did pitch in to get them for him and considering how much the damn things cost, I should hope that he wears them. No matter how indecorous he thinks it looks.

"No occasion." He said, fingering the lapel even as he spoke. Clearly there was supposed to be something wrong with it that an ignorant asshole like me couldn't figure out. "I had this suit on order months ago and it was finally delivered last night. The deliveryman was an absolute imbecile. Just look at what he's done!"

I looked. "Em… …?"

Tatsumi groaned at my lack of imagination. "He _folded _the suit jacket across his arm! You _never_ fold cashmere! It redirects the nape!"

Well take me to the pictures. That was something I would have to remember for parties. _'Say did you know, that folding cashmere redirects the nape?_' Right. And spend the rest of the night having my head flushed around the toilet. Uh uh.

Tatsumi was glaring at me as though awaiting my confirmation. That look usually meant I was about ten seconds away from loosing half my pay packet and having to live off of baked beans for a week.

This was the infamous look that said; _'I have not had a good day. And anyone who crosses me today will bleed red into the rivers of the world.'_ Now I knew why that smile looked so strange. He was desperately trying not to grind his teeth and crack them all, forcing him to see an orthodontist for very costly crowns. The cashmere suit had obviously been expensive and _redirecting_ _the nape _was clearly a crime against all humanity. I wondered if the deliveryman was still in one piece. Possibly. Tatsumi wouldn't have killed him on the doorstep and wasted money by all the effort that would have gone into removing the stains from the carpet in the hallway.

There are times I wished I had better control of my facial expressions and now was one of them. I grinned at Tatsumi in what I hoped was a supportive manner and found myself under siege from a series of bellows, mostly consisting of; "_Well I should expect _you_ to find incompetence funny!" _and; _"If you'd ever waited more than one night before spending your paycheck, you would understand what monetary disappointments are like!" _And so on and so forth. By the time Tatsumi was done with me, I was curled up beneath my desk with my tail wrapped around myself, whimpering pitifully. Tatsumi softened up at my pathetic display and immediately reassured me that he didn't mean any of it.

"I'm just frustrated." He explained, patting me gently on the back of the head. I nodded and wiped a tear away from my cheek with my sleeve.

"I'm sorry about your suit!" I all but sobbed.

He shrugged as he proceeded to straighten my tie for me. I could never get the darn thing right. "It's not your fault, Tsuzuki. I apologize for taking it out on you. I've just been a little on edge since-'' He cut off immediately, but I knew how he was going to finish that sentence.

Since Kyoto.

I stepped back, tugging my tie out of his hands. "I'm sorry." I said again.

I'd been working up the courage all morning to confront Tatsumi about my arrangement with Muraki. I knew that the longer I hesitated, the longer I would have to find a reason to not to do it at all. Considering all the grief I had caused at Kyoto; all the grief that _Muraki _caused, I had no doubt as to what everyone's reaction would be.

But when I really thought about it, I figured that it would not nearly be as bad as I imagined. After all, it was not as though my emotions were soundly invested in Muraki at this point. _They would see_, I continued to reassure myself. _They will be able to see the logic in this, even if it doesn't make them happy personally. Innocents come before us and our own feelings._

"Tatsumi?"

The secretary turned at my soft call and then twisted his entire body to face me. This had always been my special privilege with Tatsumi. I would always be granted the courtesy of his full and unwavering attention.

'_He got so riled up over a jacket nape!' _My mind screamed, even as his sapphire blue eyes bore into my own. _'This is going to shatter him! Eek! My pay packet!'_

"What is it Tsuzuki?"

I didn't quite know what to do with my hands. First I stuffed them in my pocket, then I folded my arms over my chest, then I started wringing my fingers together and pacing. By then Tatsumi knew there was something weighing on my mind. This was a sure fire give away when it came to me.

"Is there something troubling you?" He inquired gently.

I had my lips parted. The words were there right on the tip of my tongue, ready to be spoken, to my carried through the air to his unappreciative ears. I was prepared for any and every reaction. Nostril flaring. Eyes glowing. Smoke coming out of his ears. Shadows twisting. Screaming, tantrums, paycheck deductions, explosions, Apocalypse. Anything he threw at me, I had thought of a way to handle, most of which involved either running, hiding, pulling sad faces, crying or a combination of all of them.

But I never had a chance to tell him. And it was Watari, ironically enough, that I have to thank for this delay.

Terazuma had been drinking a cup of coffee from the machine when he suddenly let out a loud screech that seemed to hit a higher octave ever second it carried into. I glanced around Tatsumi, who had also spun to face the disturbance, only to witness Terazuma erupt into a cloud of red smoke and reappear with a rather femininely proportioned upper torso. There was a repeat of the high-pitched scream as he proceeded to rip the coffee machine away from the wall with inhuman strength and smash it against the floor.

Hisoka groaned and scribbled something on the piece of paper in front of him, without even taking his eyes off of the amusing spectacle. "Should have known Watari wouldn't have left without one little surprise like this."

From what I could tell, he'd spiked the coffee with one of his in betta 'IT's' AKA: Sex-change potion. For all purposes it looked like it was a success. … From the waist up.

I wanted to enjoy Terazuma's torment, but the potion had only reminded me of Watari and the promise I had made to him. I tugged insistently on Tatsumi's sleeve.

"Tatsumi…?" I whined trying to catch his eye. I quickly took a step back. "There's a vein throbbing in your forehead…"

Tatsumi lunged toward the rampaging Terazuma and proceeded to drive him/her/_it _into a corner, his arms flying around in the air like an out of control windmill. I barely avoided being belted as it was.

"Hajime Terazuma!" I could hear Tatsumi scream in his very best 'BATTLE CRY' voice. "Would you mind explaining to me, just _who _you think will be paying to replace that coffee machine?!"

"Get that lousy, good for nothing excuse of a scientist to pay for it!" Terazuma retaliated as I sullenly sank back into my chair and reached for the half eaten chocolate bar stuffed into my top drawer. "He's the one who keeps spiking the damn thing! For the love of fuck… if he was here I would-'' Fill in your own euphemism for; 'Box around the ears' here and keep in mind that whatever you come up with will undoubtedly be ten times more family friendly than what Terazuma spouted. The last I saw of him/her/it, was Tatsumi dragging him away by one of his/hers pointed ears, lecturing him about a friendly happy peaceful policy toward office property.

I chewed on my chocolate bar, more out of a need for comfort than the usual desire for food. I couldn't help but feel… _relieved _in a strange sense. The truth was, I was frightened about being alone with Muraki and continuing on with this arrangement. But… not for the reasons I originally thought.

Right now, I was more afraid of myself and the weakness of my flesh. The weakness of my heart.

I didn't want to hurt my beloved friends. I didn't them to worry about me. I didn't want them to follow Muraki and me on surveillance and moving in when they thought it was too dangerous for me to continue the arrangement.

He may have hurt them. He _would_ hurt them given half the chance.

But I didn't even believe this myself. I knew, because my reasons for accepting this delay, for not telling Tatsumi that very first day I had my chance… it wasn't because I didn't want the others to be hurt.

I didn't know what it was. And even now, I still can't really figure it out. But I think that it is this;

_Muraki was mine to kill. His fate was bound to mine, and mine to his. Inside, where the weak heart beats, flows the blood of demons. And a demon will belong to those it deems worthy. It will judge and by judgment it ordains; who may love it, whom it may accept and whom alone is permitted to end its life._

These words I had never read. I had never known about them. They were whispered to me from the dark side of my soul, the place I have barely touched upon in a near century of existence. These still and soft words I understand now are true.

I had almost killed Muraki in Kyoto. I had almost killed this man when so many had failed. And that was my right and _my right _alone.

We _were _descendants of darkness. We belonged to one another, as much as I hated to admit it. Muraki had judged me as the one whom he would love, whom he would accept and in the end, it had been me that was permitted to kill him.

One day Muraki would die at my hands. And I at his.

So maybe that was why I did not tell Tatsumi that day. Maybe that is why I never told him.

This wasn't like Kyoto. I was no longer a porcelain doll in need of rescuing, lest I fall and shatter upon a concrete surface. I would not permit that responsibility to anyone else now. It was my own. This task _was my own._

_Muraki _was my own.

I felt a swat on the back of my head. I jumped and glanced at Hisoka morosely and received a blank expression of disinterest in return. His large green eyes held just the hint of a smile and that was more than enough to assure me that maybe… somehow… he would forgive me anything.

To Hisoka I was human. I couldn't thank him enough for his reassurance when no one else would come to my rescue. Just knowing that he was on my side… I would always be grateful for that.

But Hisoka couldn't see how much the words hurt now. Though I continued to desire the verification of my humanity, to hear the reprise of those blessed words; 'You are human', now I could barely cover a twinge of discomfort at the very sound.

I was accepted. But _only _the human half of me.

'_You're human._'

But I'm not human. I'm only _part _human.

'_You're a monster. With the blood of a demon.'_

'_They said I wasn't human!'_

I didn't want to hear that I was one or the other anymore because every time that I did, it cast a negative shadow over the other half of me and I suffered all over again. There was a thin gray area in the middle that no one could ever see and no one ever acknowledged.

Hisoka asked me, only recently; "You and Watari have been spending a lot of time together recently."

"I guess we have." I said.

"Any particular reason?" He had asked nonchalantly. I didn't catch his tone, not that Hisoka usually spoke with expression but I guessed at what he was hinting at.

"We're not having a fling." I laughed, ruffling his mousy brown hair. "Watari and I sort of grew apart in the last year or so and we've just been catching up on lost time."

_No… that wasn't true either. The real reason was because I could tell Watari was lonely and maybe just a bit jealous that I had been spending so much time with Hisoka. We'd been closer before he'd come along, true. But Watari hadn't said a word. I'd had to guess. Sometimes he was harder to read than Hisoka. You could always tell when Hisoka was down. Watari… he just… smiled. No matter how he was feeling. _

_And no matter how he was feeling, he would always put me first. He didn't reassure me. He didn't jump up and declare to all the world that I was human. He didn't call me a monster. He didn't call me a demon._

_There was simply that complete and unprecedented acceptance from him. Not one half of me over the other, no discrimination, no sweeping under the carpet, no denial because he thought that was what I wanted to hear. A pat on the back, a free drink and a smile. And I was always Tsuzuki when I was with him._

_I couldn't achieve that with anyone else right now._

"Come on Tsuzuki. Get to work." Hisoka growled.

I popped the last piece of my chocolate bar between my lips and attempted to grin at my partner. He wrinkled his nose at my caramel filled smile.

"Gross." He declared, passing me a toothpick from the 'organized chaos' on his desk. I cleaned my teeth as best I could and finally got motivated enough to tackle the ever-increasing pile of paper work.

I worked like a demon, appropriately enough. Whatever his faults, Watari had been an efficient and dedicated worker and his protégée Chikawa, who was filling in at the lab for him was willing but lacked speed. He was finding it difficult to keep pace. Meaning Hisoka, Wakaba, Terazuma, Tatsumi and I were forced to take up the extra slack. Fortunately, the Kyoto Cleaver case was the only investigation currently in progress and most of the work on our hands was wrapping up previous cases and filing them away accordingly. Watari's replacement also had to contend with Terazuma's outrageous demands for a Quick-Fix IT antidote, which the poor kid was unable to produce. I doubt even Watari knows what he puts into his potions half the time, so curing it would have been in the realm of impossibility at least until we got him on the phone or he returned to the Ministry. As it was, Terazuma _did _try to contact him but the call went straight to his message bank. He was probably up to his glasses in work (Not to mention seducing swordsmen) but Terazuma found this an outrageous excuse and promised to sue/murder/give Watari a wedgie, as soon as he came within eyeshot. Yes indeedly do, it was a busy day indeed. I felt an immediate surge of relief when five o'clock finally rolled around.

Hisoka and I breezed out the door, waving goodbye to everyone as we went. Tatsumi and Wakaba were both working late on separate assignments, whilst Terazuma and Chikawa continued searching for a cure to his current 'condition.' We left them to it and exited the building, turning from the main entrance and walking in the general direction of the apartment complex.

The Ministry of Hades is a building that exists in Human Reality but there it is known as Government House. In the realm of Hades however, the building transforms. It's kind of like looking at a picture of something with a dark sheathe over it and then removing the sheathe and realizing that there is actually a lot more to the picture that you couldn't see to begin with. That was the Ministry. In the realm of Hades, cherry blossoms surrounded the building and bloomed all year round. Sakura is the symbol of death and the Cherry Blossom front that passes up and down the country each year is reminiscent of the passing of life and death. We Shinigami are deep like that.

If one wished to leave the Ministry, the Shinigami in question need only swipe their personalized identification through the card slot within the interior door of the building and then step through into the outside. The dimension shifts over and no one watching from the street would have any reason to suspect that the people exiting the building were anything other than government house employees.

The Hades dimension extends only within a localized area surrounding the Ministry building; encompassing the grounds and several surrounding outbuildings, such as Watari's lab. These area's can be safely explored and ventured into, however they extended only so far before terminating into invisible walls, that lent a façade of a receding landscape but offered no validity. To leave the realm behind, one need enter the Ministry building again and swipe their key card. Step outside and you would step back into the Waking World; busy Tokyo in all its charm, noise and much overbearing hustle-bustle. Five minutes of this and the temptation to retreat back into the Hades realm just for a moments peace became difficult to defy.

Two blocks to the left of the Ministry building, within walking distance, was the Apartment complex _'Sakura Zensen.'_ It means '_The Cherry Blossom Front.' _Gotta love that Hades sense of humor. This building existed purely within the Waking World but so far as humans were concerned, it did not exist at all. Unless explicitly invited inside, the eyes of passersby would simply slide off of the building, as though the two structures on either side of it met directly where the apartment complex was situated. It could not be seen from the air, nor was it marked down on any industrial files as an existing building. The Ministry of Hades had done an exceptional job of imbuing the space with a limitless amount of concealment spells, so that its employees could enjoy all the benefits of living within the waking world and still retain more than vestige of privacy, concerning our particular 'altered' dispositions.

All the employees of the Ministry lived in the complex, which was paid for by the Ministry itself. We were in charge of feeding our own faces and keeping our true identities from the public a secret but that in itself wasn't altogether too difficult. Even the doormen, security guards and the receptionist were all employed by the Ministry and we didn't receive too many outside visits from the public. On the off chance however, we were all on our best behavior.

Hisoka and I had planned to order some takeout and watch a movie in my apartment that night but he decided to bail out at the last minute. He seemed tired and irritable, so I only whined at him for two or so minutes before letting him do as he pleased.

His apartment was on the second floor and he took the stairs for exercise. Mine was on the ninth floor and since I'm lazy I decided to take the easy way out and hopped on board the elevator. I waved hello to the receptionist, who gave me a wink as she chatted away on the phone to someone, before deftly pressing in the button for the elevator. The doors slid open with a ping and I stepped inside, turning to face outward. The doors were starting to close when I saw someone dressed in black race in through the entrance of the Complex and tear ass toward the elevator waving their arms madly.

"Hold the elevator!" They screamed in a life-or-death phrasing. Being the noble gentleman I am, I reached out and held down the button that would keep the doors open and waited for this dramatic individual to get inside in one piece. The doors slid shut and I punched in the number for my floor and turned to my companion to ask where he was going.

And felt my jaw come unhinged.

"Thanks!" The kid chirruped with an altogether much too cheery expression. "I didn't think you would stop for me! So… what floor are we heading to?"

I almost considered jumping out of the next floor we came to and taking the stairs but decided against it, figuring this creepy little delinquent would probably just follow me no matter what route I took to my apartment. He was staring at me with polite interest and smiling as though we were two long lost friends meeting at a chance occurrence.

All the placidity I had acquired following my knock off from work simply evaporated and I started to feel extremely uncomfortable. The kid seemed strangely at home in my nervousness and though smaller than I, appeared to be taking up a much larger portion of the elevator than my larger frame did. I guess it was his smile that caused this illusion. And the fact that my shoulders were hunched in so closely to my body that I practically had my face pinched between them.

"Do you remember me, Tsuzuki-san?" He asked conversationally.

I reconsidered. He was wearing the exact same clothes as last night, only this time he had on a dark jacket with a fur trim collar. This minor altercation was no deterrent to my memory, of course. There was no doubt who this strange youth was.

His face looked like a frightening hybrid of Hisoka and Hijiri. As though the two of them had been thrown into a blender, rearranged accordingly and then bequeathed a new personality.

Not to mention those eerie eyes with the tiny pupil…that icy blue stare made me think of all the dark things that had frightened me as a child. Brought back images of long forgotten nightmares, ghost stories, nights of deep blackness without the reassuring puncture of moonlight and all manner of things that went bump in the dark.

"Yes, I remember you." I mumbled, wishing he would stop staring at me that way. … As though he had something planned. The way he smiled reminded me of that painting by Van Gogh; The Mona Lisa. It was the same knowing, teasing smile. I never did like that painting. It always felt as though she were laughing at me somehow and this kid made me feel exactly the same way. "You said your name was… _Pandora, _right?"

"You _did _remember." He seemed pleased. "It's good to see you again, Tsuzuki-san. Did you have a nice time last night on your date with Zuta?"

This went right above my head and my expression plainly said so, because he quickly amended this by saying; "Muraki. Kazutaka Muraki."

"You know Muraki?"

Pandora nodded, twiddling with a stiffened clump of hair on the collar of his coat. "Yeah, I know Muraki. Know him from way back. Not the nicest guy around but I guess that depends on who you are." He laughed hollowly, in the tone of one whom was mocking another whilst they mocked themselves at the very same time. "But I gather he treats _you _well, Tsuzuki-san, that I do! Though I don't suppose you even know if he in fact loves you or not." He arched an eyebrow and looked surprised. "It must really run your mind in circles, Tsuzuki-san. Mine is already looped in a knot considering such matters in your stead!"

I bit my lip, keeping my eyes trained resolutely on the numbers as they rolled across the top of the elevator. It wouldn't be too long before we reached floor nine.

"Yeah well, I try not to think about it too much."

"Yes, I do suppose that's wise." Pandora scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor of the elevator, that mirthless smile never once forsaking his lips. In a strange way, it reminded me of Watari. "In his own way," He continued. "I think Muraki believes he loves you. But are you quite sure you're doing the right thing, Tsuzuki-san? Do you think if push comes to shove that he will protect you?"

His voice got colder and colder and there was a long pause before that smile finally fell away and he cocked his head sideways to meet my eyes. His face was shallow. No depth. Devoid. Barren and empty as the bottom of a bottle long since drained. I tried to see what was beyond that face but any emotion hidden behind it was completely warped beyond perception.

"Do you truly believe that he would die for you, as willingly as he would die at your hands? Would he permit another to kill him… if he believed it would spare you?"

I simply stared at him, not comprehending what he was saying. Luckily I didn't have to stint on it for too much longer because the elevator finally reached my floor. The doors slid open and I stepped out into the hallway, turning my back on the cryptic kid. I could still feel his ice blue twins on me and that was almost as bad as facing him directly.

He didn't follow me out into the hallway, but he held the door open with his hand for a moment and leaned his head out. He ducked his head in a slight bow.

"What's this all about, kid?" I hissed my voice so stern it surprised even me. "I mean, you turn up last night to say you're sorry for the Tachiagari but you don't give me anything to work with! You're speaking in god damn riddles all the time and I don't know what to do with that! You need to be clear, you need to tell me what your situation is, what's going on!" I took a step closer, my heart tugging with that usual, familiar desire to protect and comfort – pulling on the discordant strings of my rational mind, until my sensibility felt close to unraveling. I didn't know this kid from Adam but here he was, seeking me out and I had always been a right proper sucker for trying to do the right thing by those who were weak and in need of help. "I'm gonna put it to you straight, kid; what do you want from me?"

"I want your help."

Genuine. I looked hesitantly over my shoulder at him, at his suddenly much younger expression, at the lines under his eyes and the rise and fall of his epiglottis. Without a doubt there was more to this kid than I possibly imagined at first and though he intimidated me, I had the sudden supreme confidence that this fear was unwarranted. Somehow I just knew that this _Pandora _sincerely needed my help.

He glanced around as though seeking out something and then looked back up at me, a question hanging by a thread from his pale lips.

"Yutaka Watari," He said at last. "Tell me… has he gone to Kyoto yet?"

I hesitated in answering. "Yes… but how did you know about Kyoto?"

He shook his head. "That's not important. What matters now is you understand the connection. Watari-san's case and your arrangement with Muraki-san are connected. There are deeper connections than you could possibly imagine. You may not realize it yet but you're all in danger. You are all entwined through the threads and are drawn into this mottled web."

"_Mottled web_? And what do you mean by 'mottled web'? None of this makes any sense! I thought I told you to be clear, child!"

But Pandora wasn't paying the slightest attention. His eyes were squeezed shut and he seemed to be exerting some mental strain upon himself. I could sense the presence of something much larger encroaching upon our presence through a link the youth held. Sweat broke out across his forehead, his fingers clenching around the elevator door.

"Are you all right?" I asked, taking a concerned step towards him.

He smiled wearily at me. "I'm fine. It's just… my master. He's making things awful difficult on me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Master?" This didn't seem right to me. I loathed the idea of anyone believing that they had ownership over another soul.

Pandora hefted a deep sigh and straightened up as best he could. He appeared to be under a terrible amount of mental pressure, judging from the sweat that was trickling down his face and the white circle that appeared on his cheek. He was biting it from the inside.

"He is stirring. I need to go." He declared rubbing at his forehead and stepping back into the elevator. As he released his hold on the door it began to close but not before he issued his final words to me. "I can't say any more now. He's strong and he might just overhear what I tell you. Until next time, Tsuzuki-san. You should go inside now and speak with your lover. I believe he is about to call you on your home phone."

"Muraki is _not _my LOVER!" I bellowed but the doors slid shut on my retaliation making it all but pointless. As I pondered over the youth's words and whether or not I should have taken them as they were or with a fistful of salt, I was distracted by the muffled sound of a telephone ringing. My room was only a door away from the elevator, so people coming or going could hear anything going on inside, though in my case that was usually little to nothing. Watari's apartment was right across from mine and that proved an enlightening distraction to residents, what with its cacophony of explosions, falling bookshelves, the crashing of his head on the floor as he tripped over his own junk and on the odd occasion he brought a date home the expected sounds during the night and then the 'guest' tripping over Watari's stuff as he or she tried to exit the apartment with a hangover and without waking Watari.

Yes, who needed Soap Opera's when you had friends like these?

I bounded over to my door and scrambled the key of my pocket. I jammed it into the lock and twisted it, flinging the door open, retrieving the key and then booting the door closed with the side of my foot. It bounced back open and I had to go back for another attempt whilst the phone continued to shrill from the kitchen counter. Finally, I gained victory over the unruly door and moved onto my next item of complaining home ware.

I hadn't exactly been expecting Pandora to be right, so when I _did _in fact hear Muraki's smooth voice on the other end of the phone, I very nearly passed out. This was getting too much. I needed to lie down.

"Good evening Tsuzuki-san." Came the smooth cultured voice of my nemesis. "I didn't disturb you I hope?"

I grumbled as I shucked my shoes off and wriggled out of my trench coat and jacket, throwing them higgledy-piggledy about the room before flopping myself down on the striped, stuffing flecked shell of furniture that I believe had once passed for a sofa in its previous life. I'd been secretly hoping that one date would have kept Muraki off of my back for a while but apparently it had only made him all the more eager.

"Are you going to sit there silently all night, or will you do me the courtesy of speaking?" He asked, in a tone of voice that did not match for tenor the annoyance evident in the phrasing of his sentence.

I shook my head a little. "Uh… sorry, it's just… Something kinda weird just happened. I'm a little rattled."

"Are you all right?" He actually sounded sincere.

"I'm fine but… what I mean to say is, is that well…" I paused and mentally cut a stroke through the remainder of my sentence. Where could I even begin to explain this crap to Muraki and more importantly, could he care less? "Never mind. It's nothing."

"If it concerns you, then it is not nothing." He stated firmly. So firmly I was very nearly fooled into thinking that he believed his own bullshit. "Tell me what happened."

My stomach growled and the fact that I was hungry made me even more stubborn in my decision. "I said not to worry about it. Now, why are you calling me so soon? Wasn't one date enough?"

He laughed at me. He laughed for a very long time and the more he laughed the more hungry and pissed off I became. Finally, I exploded.

"What the hell are you making fun of me for?!" I roared, ripping a handful of stuffing out of my couch and immediately regretting it. This thing was falling apart enough without my helping it along. I tried to stuff it back in but that only made it worse.

"I apologize." Muraki said without the hint of humor in his voice. That was the closest to being chastised I could ever bring the good doctor to I suppose. "I just assumed that you understood my ways a little better than that, my dear Tsuzuki-san. And the specifics of our arrangement state that I would call on you when I would have need of you. Tonight, I have such need."

I didn't like the way he kept on saying 'need.' He used it in the same context I would when referring to a brownie and that wasn't so much a need as a selfish pleasurable indulgence.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked warily.

"A movie." He said simply. The idea of Muraki sitting perched up in front of a movie screen in his crisp white suit with a bucket of popcorn almost made me laugh out loud. "There is an exquisite movie showing at a local cinema that I'm certain you would enjoy, Tsuzuki-san. It's a delightful show and I would be happy to throw in dinner as well. I will cook for you myself."

"Not interested." My tummy grumbled loudly in protest and Muraki chuckled on the other line.

"I believe your stomach feels otherwise." He murmured his voice barely above a whisper. "And let's not forget why in fact you are doing this, Tsuzuki-san. If you are so opposed to joining me, I surely cannot force you. However… I am certain that there are many others whom would not be so adverse to my company. And I am not like you, Tsuzuki-san. You are my exception but when it comes to humans, I do not care about them automatically. And feeling the way that I do now…''

I felt a surge of anger so extreme it was almost heavenly. Had he been standing in front of me I would have surged off of my feet and punched that predictable smirking grin right off of his face. And like always, I would have missed, he would have grabbed me, pressed the length of our bodies together and whispered something insidiously perverse to me.

God, how I hate to say it but I loved that he brought that anger out in me. It made me feel so intense, so alive.

It was feeding the demon in me and that dark half of me was starving.

My stomach growled again, reminding me that there was more than one half of me that was starving. I checked my fridge as Muraki awaited my reply patiently. I came across some Beef and black bean leftover from two nights ago, lemon chicken, some muffins Watari had baked me which were starting to go stale (I don't know what was wrong with me. I _never _let sweets go to waste!) and a container filled with a curry Hisoka and I had slaved over together. For some reason, he had left his share at my apartment and now I had twice the amount of curry to eat. I couldn't bring myself to touch it.

Free dinner _did _sound appealing, since my plans with Hisoka had fallen through. And I always enjoyed going to the movies even though I had a sneaking suspicion Muraki would use the proximity and the darkness to his advantage. But hey, it wasn't like I had anything better planned.

And innocents' lives were at stake. I had to uphold my end of the bargain.

Thoughts like this eased my sense of guilt, even though at that point I didn't really understand what I was feeling guilty about.

I slammed the fridge door closed like a little boy that had been sent to his room. "Right. I'll go with you."

There may have been a smile on his shining face. "I'm glad to hear it, Tsuzuki-san. We'll meet outside of my home at shall we say, seven? I will drive us to the movie theatre and then back so I may cook you dinner."

I nodded, and then remembering that this didn't help him said; "Fine."

"Good." He stated, sounding pleased as punch. "I shall see you at seven then. I am looking forward to it."

I went to hang up when his voice trailed out of the receiver again. I held it up to my ear to catch his parting words.

"Tsuzuki-san? The movie starts at seven thirty, so do try not to dawdle, hmm?"

He hung up, leaving me with my mouth hanging off of the hook.

'Try not to dawdle' indeed.

_**- EC -**_

**Note:** The greatest change to this chapter was Watari acquiring the samples off of Oriya. A general clean up with the rest of it. I hope you guys all enjoyed! Now I'll pop on over and see what else I can do with chapter 10! See you then! (Man I sound like the Ouran Host club, don't I?)


	10. Tsuzuki: Delusions

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** I did not have sexual relations with that doctor. (Blinks) Oh, my bad! Wrong defense! (Clears throat) I do not claim to own Descendant's of Darkness or anything Descendant's of Darkness related. Wish I did, but alas this is a very one-sided love affair.

**Note: **Sorry for the delay folks! Just having a few minor crises but I have them sort of under control and as they say, the show must go on! (Not to mention that once I was over those original problems my laptop decided that it needed surgery and went in to get the hard rive ripped apart and bits replaced. Hence, my uber long delay. ) And celebrate folks; this is an exclusive Mu/Tsu chapter! Hooray!

**Another note: **Just worth a mention, folks. I saw a music video with Muraki in it today-

**Watari: **BWAA HAA HAA HAA HAAA HAAA!

**Muraki: **SHUT UP! It's not that funny!

**Watari: **(Rolling around, clutching his belly, laughing until he is crying and pointing at Muraki all at the same time) BWWAAA HAAA HAAAA HAAA! HAAA HA HEH HO HA HAA - I CAN'T BREATHE! I CAN'T BREATHE!

**Muraki: **Kindly leave it at that!

**Tsuzuki: **(Watching AMV and trying not to snicker) Aww, it's not so bad Muraki...

**Muraki: **How so!

**Watari: **(Still trying not to giggle) Well... pink and purple really are your colors!

**Oriya: **(Hiding face in yukata) Yeah, not everyone can - (snicker) - pull it off! Hold your head high! Be proud!

**Muraki: **SHUT UP!

**Watari: **Aww don't be mad Muraki! You look kind of hot with pink hair and purple eye shadow! It suits you!

**Muraki: **(Black cloud) Thanks so much. You know, I think red really suits you.

**Watari: **You think so? Really!

**Muraki: **Why yes... it really goes well with your complexion. Here, let me show you. (Stalks towards him, holding a butchers knife)

**Watari: **Eep! (Runs behind Oriya) Save me Ori! Muraki's having PMT!

**Muraki: **(Flames shooting up) Don't think that his skinny ass can shield you forever, nerd!

**Watari: **At least he has an ass, _Matilda._

**Muraki: **(Looks ready to explode)

**NaPap: **(Sweatdrops) Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up... (Grins and shrugs) Ah, who am I kidding! I love the drama! And kudo's to whoever made that AMV! Brilliant piece of work! I doth my cap to thee!

**Muraki: **When I find whoever made this AMV I'm gonna - _Content removed due to strong course language, sexual implications and graphic violence _- them and then I'll find anyone who so much as shares a drop of blood with them and I will - _Content removed due to strong course language, sexual implications and graphic violence _- and once I'm done with them I'll go through their address book and find everyone who ever knew them and - _Content removed due to strong course language, sexual implications and graphic violence - _then I'll - _Content removed due to strong course language, sexual implications and graphic violence - _and I'll dig up their corpse once they're dead and - _Content removed due to strong course language, sexual implications and graphic violence _- then I'll - _Content removed due to strong course language, sexual implications and graphic violence _- and then I'll pass their corpse on to some necrophiliac I know!

**Tsuzuki: **(Wide eyed) Tsuzuki just learnt new words!

**Oriya: **(Dully) Do I even want to know how you became associated with that necrophiliac?

**Watari: **(Underhand) He's probably referring to himself. After all, he is sleeping with a dead person.

**Tsuzuki: **(Blushes) SHUT UP! HE IS NOT!

**Watari: **Yow... defensive...

**Muraki: **Don't go throwing stones in a glass house. If I'm a necrophiliac, then so is Oriya!

**Watari: **Don't you DARE classify Ori under the same heading as you!

**Muraki: **GO BOIL YOUR BIG DUMB BLOND HEAD IN A VAT OF ACID, YOU CROSS-EYED FREAK OF NATURE!

**Watari: **(Starts singing) _"Boys, boys, be my boy; I wanna feel your body-"_

**Muraki: **(Groans) All right, you win! JUST STOP SINGING! (Looks at Tsuzuki) And turn that damn AMV off! I'm sick of seeing myself with pink hair!

**Oriya: **So are we, Muraki. So are we.

**NaPap: **(Sweatdrops again) Uh... on that note, thanks everyone for all the nice reviews I

received! BRING ME MORE COOKIES REVIEWERS!

**Tsuzuki: **(Struggling to escape from Muraki) Bring us cookies too! We deserve them more than the author does!

**Oriya: **Yeah, what the hell has she done to deserve cookies? All she does is write the damn story!

**Watari: **It's bad delegation, that's what it is! Maybe we should go on strike until we're justly rewarded for our efforts?

**NaPap: **You can't do that! You have a contract!

**Oriya: **We can do as we please! You give into our outrageous monetary and culinary demands and we'll participate in this little fic of yours! It's only fair.

**NaPap: **I will not! I barely have enough food and money as it is!

**Oriya: **You will too!

**NaPap: **Will not!

**Oriya: **Will too!

**NaPap: **Will not!

**Oriya: **Will too!

**NaPap: **WILL NOT!

**Oriya: **Whose gonna stab you in the head with a sword?

**NaPap: **Whose gonna make your wear a pink dress in every single one of your chapters from now on?

**Muraki: **He already _does _wear a pink dress.

**Oriya: **It's a _yukata _not a dress!

**NaPap: **(Makes AMV) Not anymore. (Grins)

(A puff of smoke goes up and Oriya reappears wearing a frilly pink dress.)

**Oriya: **SHIT!

**Watari: **(Drooling) Are you going to be my lover girl, Ori? (Bats eyelashes)

**Oriya: (**Blushes) SHUT UP! (Hits Watari)

**Muraki: **Not laughing now are we Oriya?

**Oriya: **(Hits Muraki) You can shut up too! (Sulks in corner with his pink dress fanning out around him)

**NaPap: **The moral of this story kids? Do not argue with the fanfic author. They're always right. And they **_always _**win. Enjoy the next chapter everyone!

**Tsuzuki**

No one could ever accuse me of being perfect.

I know that. I understand it very well and I am fully aware that no one in this world could ever safely be accused of being perfect and live up to such a grand expectation. Being perfect is a big responsibility and as such, one I have never felt the need to entertain.

I don't think about it all that much. I never take the time to have a long hard look at myself in the mirror and remind myself of just how imperfect I am. Yet, there are those times when you do something you know in your heart is wrong and you feel guilty for it and you just need a reason to try and salvage some small shred of an excuse for your actions.

I am not perfect.

People make mistakes and they do things they know are wrong. I know that it was wrong going to see Muraki without bringing someone along as backup. No matter how much my morality insisted that I was doing it to keep anyone else from being hurt, I knew that the selfish half of me was fooling that noble side. Actually it was more like seventy-thirty.

And I am so imperfect, that I actually spent far too long thinking about what I should wear. Last night Muraki had shown me up, dressed to perfection as usual whilst I barely scrubbed up to standard in order to pass the minimum dress code. I didn't think it was necessary to get all razzle-dazzle for such an informal event like a movie but regardless I remembered the embarrassment I had felt last night and didn't care to replicate it. I wasn't going to be made to feel small like that again.

I was doing this for me, not for him. I told myself this but it still felt too much like I was lying to myself. And I was all too eager to buy into those lies.

After standing before my open wardrobe for about ten minutes, I finally came to my decision and fished out from the very depths a suit I hadn't had much occasion to wear. Meaning to say that despite my extended stay in this world, I haven't had much chance to date. Not because I wasn't interested; quite the contrary. Rather I was simply too self-conscious to put myself out there and was notoriously hopeless at reading the signs. When someone was interested in me, I just wasn't able to see it, especially if the signs were subtle and understated.

Muraki was the exception I suppose. No one could accuse him of being discreet that's for sure.

The suit I'd chosen wasn't quite a tux. I can't think of the right words to describe it. It was certainly made to draw the eye of your escort, with a V-neck collar that cut directly down the chest and closed just above the rise of the pectorals, revealing a cheeky nip of slightly tanned flesh. The pants were black and tight, attached to the jacket by two thin straps. The jacket itself was cut high, the base coming to a stop just beside the lowest rung in my ribcage. I wore a white shirt underneath and did my best to tuck in all the corners, leaving only one side un-tucked because… well, call it the personal touch. I folded the shirtsleeves up over the cuffs of the jacket and slid a silver pair of cufflinks through the empty buttonholes. My skin shone with its light tan and I suddenly wished that there were another button on the suit so that I could cover up more of my chest. Muraki was simply going to be all over that skin if I gave him half the chance. I raked my fingers through my hair, tidying it as best as I was able and then slid on the least scuffed pair of shoes I could find. I examined myself in the mirror, wondering if anything else needed work and figured I was spending way too much time on my appearance as it was.

Still, it was nice to dress up for a change. Nice to have an actual date, regardless of who it was with. As terrible as it was, being with Muraki made me feel a little daring, to the point that looking sexy was okay.

I picked up my trench coat from the couch and started to go through the pockets for my wallet. When I didn't find it, I searched amongst the clothes I had been wearing but they came up empty too. Baffled, I called the Summons Section and asked Tatsumi if I had left it there. He said he'd found it on my desk and was just about to give me a call and tell me to come and pick it up. I just hoped he hadn't taken the liberty of lifting a few dollars of good deeds remuneration from it.

It was a warm night outside so I walked to the Bureau with my trench coat slung over my arm and my thoughts drifting above my head. I was feeling a little nervous about waltzing into the Bureau all dressed up.

When I finally strode into the Summons Section, I was rewarded for my efforts with every set of eyes swiveling to face me. Terazuma and Watari's replacement were working at the Main computer and were both staring at me in a mixture of admiration and apprehension. Wakaba's eyes were open wide from behind her desk and she nearly dropped all the papers she was holding. Ruma and Yume, the two girls from Hokkaido who spent most of their time fawning on Hisoka, had been helping her but neither bothered to dive to the floor and save the paperwork from impending dust bunnies. They all proceeded to gawk at me as though Enma himself had just strutted into the room. I didn't see Tatsumi anywhere in sight.

"What, all dressed up and no place to go?" Terazuma said unimpressed. I shrugged.

"Speaking of dresses Hajime, I see that you haven't had much luck improving your... em, condition." I mused scratching my chin. "Maybe I should take you wardrobe shopping! I know this cute little place that sells maids outfits, nurses uniforms and frilly pink dresses!"

Terazuma scowled and lit up a cigarette. "Sorry cry-baby, but I don't share your taste in clothing."

I was just about to reply with a remark to the contrary, when I was interrupted by Wakaba and the two girls converging upon me like a wave.

"Oh, Tsuzuki you look so handsome!" Wakaba enthused, running her hands through my unruly hair. "Why haven't I seen you wear this suit before? It really is quite becoming on you!"

"This old thing? Oh, it's not that kind of suit you'd wear around the office!" I joked weakly but the three girls laughed anyway.

Tatsumi emerged out of his office to see what all the laughter was about. His eyes widened.

"My…" He mused almost too softly for me to hear. I extracted myself from the girls' arms and walked over to Tatsumi, feeling a little self-conscious and meaning to ask for my wallet. But he was two steps ahead of me. "I have your wallet in my desk. Come inside for a minute Tsuzuki."

It was supposedly an honor to be invited into Tatsumi's office but I'd been in there plenty of times myself and could never see what was that great about it. Everything was so symmetrical and clean; it was more sterile than Watari's lab. Not that that was difficult.

I stood awkwardly near the doorway as Tatsumi reached inside of his desk drawer and fossicked around for a moment before coming up with my wallet. I stepped between the two leather guest chairs to reach for it but Tatsumi pulled it in close to his body, reluctant to hand it over.

"I'm sure that it's none of my business," He said, trying to sound sincere about this statement when I knew for a fact that Tatsumi believed everyone's business was his business. "But… are you planning on going somewhere special tonight?"

I lowered my hand, trying to keep my voice casual. "Actually, I have a date."

Well it was true. Though when it came to Muraki and I, the dates were always a little one sided and I was usually there as a result of blackmail.

Tatsumi was respectful of my silence and merely nodded. "Well, I hope you have a good time. You look very nice."

I think he was trying to sound matter of fact but there was something about his posture and tone of voice that betrayed his words. His eyes were shining behind his glasses. I could see them tracing the v shaped cut of my shirt and jacket. I was started to feel severely underdressed in a completely different manner to how I had felt the previous night.

"Um… thank you!" I chirped, using all my willpower to push my face into something I hoped was ignorant enough to not encourage whatever he had been thinking. "Can I have my wallet, Tatsumi? Sorry but I have to get going."

He started as though I'd shocked him out of a trance and then passed me the wallet over the table. His fingers grazed mine momentarily as they slid off of the faded leather and I purposefully pretended as though I hadn't noticed. These subtle nuances apparently did not escape me as much as I may have originally thought. Without a mention I slipped the wallet into my pocket with much difficulty (those pants were _really _tight) and smiled genially at the secretary. He seemed to be counting the pores in my skin and didn't notice my expression.

"Well, guess I'll be off!" I exclaimed, wishing that he'd just point out the door, wish me a merry time and hopefully not ask any more questions. Unfortunately, he did have one.

"Is your date anyone I know?" He inquired with a suspicious slope of his eyebrow. I felt my heart run in spot.

"Anyone you… know?" I all but squeaked. He nodded solemnly.

"I understand that the two of you had plans already tonight Tsuzuki. And I know that it's really none of my business but… I… I don't think that getting involved with Kurosaki in this manner is a very wise idea."

_Hisoka!_

"I understand that immortality owes little to ages but that boy is still sixteen years old in mind and body. He lacks the maturity to sustain an intimate relationship with you. Your partnership could be put in jeopardy."

"Um, Tatsumi-''

"I know, I know, I have no right saying this and I'm aware that I'm out of line but… I care about what happens to you. You need to take a long hard look at this and consider whether or not it is worth what you are undoubtedly willing to put into it and-''

I held up a hand. "Hey Tatsumi! Take it easy! I don't have a date with Hisoka tonight!"

He wound down. "You don't?"

"No! Geez where did that come from? It was only two weeks ago you were giving me a similar lecture over Watari!"

Tatsumi sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Forgive me for my indiscretion. Seeing how close the two of you have become I merely assumed…" He seemed embarrassed. "I'm sorry. So, you clearly do not have plans with Hisoka tonight. _Does _your date happen to be someone I know?"

I could feel myself blushing. "No not really. Just someone I met once…"

He seemed genuinely curious and this annoyed me. "Ah, not like you to bring romance home. Where did you happen to meet them?"

_Ah crap. _"Em… in church?"

… Well it was the truth!

He raised an eyebrow. "In… church?"

"It's a long story." I sighed hoping that he wouldn't ask me to go through every tiny little detail of it. Muraki had told me not to 'dawdle' after all and I severely lacked the imagination to evade Tatsumi any further.

Fortunately Tatsumi was a pretty fair guy. He knew not to overstep his boundaries. "Well I'd best not keep you any longer. You have a nice time."

"You too!" I said enthusiastically, though how much fun one can have doing paperwork I'll never know.

I was just turning to make my way out the door when Tatsumi stepped up close behind me and brushed his hands over the shoulders of my suit, as though wiping away dust that wasn't there. His lips were very close to my neck and I felt him softly inhale my scent and run his right hand down along my arm, squeezing me softly at the elbow. His body was pressed in tightly against my back and I was starting to wonder if I was suctioned into place. I pulled myself gently out of his hold and made my way out of his office, confused and intrigued by Tatsumi's actions towards me. I had felt a great surge of heat pour out of him when he had touched me and it was times like this I'd often wished I had an ability like Hisoka's; just so I could understand what people were thinking about in these kinds of situations.

I understood this much at least; Tatsumi clearly desired me. Though for what reason I'm not sure. He could certainly afford much better than me and God forbid, it wasn't as though he didn't have his pick of the litter. It was a little unexpected to have suddenly stumbled across this revelation but looking back now I'm even more stunned that I hadn't noticed it there before.

Tatsumi was my boss. I had never really thought about him in that way. At least… at least not now that he _was _in fact my boss. It had been a little different when we had been partners but even then I'd never looked on him as lover material before – well not when it came to me anyway. And not because I never admired him as a man, or as a person for that matter. I'm a ninety-year-old soul, tapered to the body of a twenty-six year old man and I certainly have all the usual hormones that comes part and parcel of that arrangement. I guess the only true explanation is that Tatsumi had always been such a refined and sophisticated creature.

He deserved better than a half-breed mutt like me.

And if Tatsumi did indeed desire me in that way, it wasn't as though he had made his intentions very clear in all the years we had known one another. Perhaps the urge was there but he felt restricted as a result of our jobs. Getting involved with your boss, mixing business with pleasure was bad under any circumstance and I though I wasn't mad about my job; it was an improvement to the alternative. Moving on.

And I wasn't sure exactly where I'd be going if Konoe ever did fire me.

I loved to help people and though I found working at a desk dull and physically draining, the field missions and the interactions I had with those I was assigned to help made me feel good about myself at the end of the day. The money afforded me afterlife's little luxuries and gave me the chance to live the life I'd never been able to when I'd been alive.

Maybe Tatsumi understood this all too well and purposefully kept his distance, regardless of his feelings toward me.

But then again, I could be reading too much into it. Such thoughts make me sound arrogant, even when deep down I know perfectly well that they contain even the smallest shred of truth.

I emerged from Tatsumi's office and made my way to the door. Wakaba gave me a hug on the way out and Yume and Ruma kissed me on each cheek. Terazuma just continued to look as though he was either unimpressed or digesting a ladle of bad wassabi. I decided to put my money on that last one and left the Summons Section; confident in the knowledge that he was actually thrilled for my sudden sociable attitude and how I'd conducted myself in such a gentlemanly fashion.

Generally, I was still rather uncomfortable with Tatsumi's behavior and would have undoubtedly spent the rest of the night churning over my thoughts and dissecting each newly acquired shred of information. However, I was currently heading for an evening spent with Tokyo's most pre-eminent Doctor, who previously lived an ill afforded half-life devoted to blood, butchery and half faciled dreams revolving loosely around the resurrection and revenge killing of his older bastard of a brother.

I charge you now to find a valid reason to blame me for being distracted.

_**- Scene Change -**_

When I arrived in Tokyo, I made my way to Muraki's mansion on foot. For personal reasons, Guardian's of Death are permitted use of Teleportation in order to get from place to place at our leisure. For missions we're required to go through the standard procedure of flying to our location via an airline, which can be a real drag but is necessary in order to maintain our cover during our investigations. You play the part of a human; you must participate in all human detriments, including lousy slow inconvenient transport systems. Not to mention the food they serve on some of those planes! Egads...

Teleportation is much more convenient, though you can't always judge exactly where you are going to be dropped off. I found myself on the footpath outside of the restaurant Muraki and I had dined at the night before. I took a moment to get my bearings and then set off what I hoped was the right direction. My heart was pounding in my chest the entire time. It was exciting and scary... whatever the case, I had a great adrenaline rush going, which flushed through my body like hot ice every moment I drew closer and closer to that white mansion.

When I reached the front gate I noticed that there were two strange cars parked out front. I've never been very good when it comes to production names but from what I could tell, one was a white Lotus; a sleek, sporty vehicle with black trims and shaped a little like a... well a wedge to put it simply. It shone like glass, even though it was parked in semi-darkness. It had to be Muraki's.

The second car was equally, if not more elegant than his. It was a black European sports car, waxed down to the point that I would not be surprised if one good push wasn't enough to send it sliding for a mile. It was parked beneath the lone streetlight, about an inch from the back bumper of the Lotus.

I was just wondering whom the second car belonged to when Muraki emerged from the front gate, his hands wedged deeply into the pockets of his white suit. A thin and extremely well dressed woman appeared behind him, her long medium range brown hair flicking out behind her as she walked. Whatever she had to say to him was wasted on her behalf because Muraki's attention was entirely focused on me at this point. A small smile curled upward from his full lips and he seemed rancorously pleasant, despite the obvious aggravation of the woman he was with.

"Good evening, Mr. Tsuzuki." He purred coming towards me. I fought the overwhelming desire to back away as he approached and allowed him to lift my hand to his lips and softly bestow the skin with a kiss. A shiver cascaded down my spine as he closed his eyes, pressing his thumb into the palm of my hand and trailing his lips along my knuckle and down over the flat of the hand until he reached my wrist. I reacted unconsciously in the defense of my hated scars and yanked my hand away firmly, wishing I possessed the mendacity to strike him with it. But I did nothing. Just stared into his face, watched that mocking smile expand outwards to stretch the skin to a will that was doubtful of this creatures true intentions. Rather then heed my warning; Muraki stepped even closer and leant forward a little, his lips closing over a small patch of my forehead. It was such a chaste action; so purely unobtrusive I could barely believe that he was the one extending it.

"I'm glad that you came." He whispered into my ear, awarding me with another kiss upon the shell before he straightened up. I tried not to let his proximity get the better of me and glanced around his shoulder, meeting the eye of the young woman who was glaring at the both of us expectantly. Muraki finally got the hint, but only because he decided if and when he would, I imagined and placed one hand on my upper arm, moving to my side and extending his free arm in the woman's direction.

"Mr. Tsuzuki... I would like for you to meet Ukyou Sakagumi. She is a close friend of mine. We go back a long way. Don't we Ukyou?"

Ukyou looked perturbed and didn't answer his question. I didn't want to appear rude so I made my way over and offered my hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Sakagumi." I said with a smile. She nodded and accepted my hand but her eyes never once left Muraki.

"An equal pleasure." She said to me. Then, to Muraki. "Is he the one?"

Muraki approached me and rather pointedly, I might add, slid his arm around my waist. I bit my lip as he pulled me in tightly to his side, pressing me into place against his body as though we were a human jigsaw puzzle. The action caused my hand to slide away from Ukyou's.

"He is." Muraki replied simply. His hand started to make circles on my waist and I was forced to smother a whimper. "This is Asato Tsuzuki. He and I have plans tonight and would very much like to get going. Right, Mr. Tsuzuki?"

His arm pressed so tightly around my waist that I figured he was substituting for a belt. He pinched the skin beneath the wall of my shirt, telling me without words what I was going to say to Ukyou. I wasn't sure what was going on but fear of my circulation being cut off and a blood clot going rapidly to my brain, dictated my actions. I nodded and mumbled something that might have passed as 'Mmm-hmm.'

Ukyou was giving me the once over. She wasn't just a pretty woman; she was striking in a classic, ladylike way. Clearly born with a silver spoon in her mouth from what I gathered in regards to her attire and choice of transportation. Next to her I undoubtedly looked as rough as guts.

"Do you not think him below your standard?" She asked congenially. The words stung but I didn't take offense. It was true after all; I had never exactly been up market material. Her words however had been enough to anger Muraki.

"I do not." He said, his voice perfectly polite on the surface but cold steel underneath. "Any simpleton would agree that Mr. Tsuzuki is one of the finest looking men around."

"Oh yes." Ukyou agreed, her voice equally as cool. Muraki moved behind me and put both arms around my body, as though I were a bird in a cage. His chin came to rest on my shoulder and he nuzzled into the material of my jacket. He regarded Ukyou cautiously, like a dog guarding a bone.

"We shall have to talk later." He declared stoically and I felt the biceps in his arms clench against my own. If he wasn't careful he was going to squeeze my insides out through my nose. "Mr. Tsuzuki and I have a prior engagement and you would hate for us to miss it now wouldn't you, Ukyou?"

The tone of his voice was so falsely polite and I knew that Ukyou could definitely sense it. What was most unnerving however was the fact that I knew that Muraki knew that she could and that both of them were tenterhooks away from going at it tooth and nail. There was something deeper happening here and lucky me had been dragged right into the center of it. Why did I always have the luck of wandering into these minefields?

Ukyou did not take Muraki's casual dismissal lightly. I could see her jaw clench in an effort to prevent saying something she would probably regret later. For her sake I was relieved when she got a handle on herself and announced her intentions by slipping on a pair of black velvet gloves. Her eyes appeared sad.

"Well, I shall be on my way then." She declared, fishing a set of keys out of her pocket and unlocking the sports car with the small remote. "I shall call on you again at a more appropriate time Kazutaka. There are certainly many issues to discuss. Not _all _of which can be handled so effectively over the phone."

He let that slide, though it was clearly intended to rock him and made his way over to hold the car door open for her. She slid elegantly into the drivers seat and twisted the key in the ignition. Muraki shut the door and then knelt down, leaning his lower arms on the windowsill.

"Drive carefully." He cautioned. She glanced sideways at him and then pressed down on the button that slid the glass into place. She spoke through the shrinking gap.

"Yes, you too Kazutaka. Try not to drink too much."

He chuckled ambiguously. "No, ma' am."

Ukyou won points with me for what she did next. With Muraki still leaning on the car, she stuck it into reverse and went roaring backwards, sending him crashing into the curb ineloquently. He sat up hurriedly, wiping at the knees of his suit, which had accumulated quite a bit of dirt and then jumped backwards as the headlights of the sports car flashed on. The light was blinding and I threw my forearm up to cover my eyes but not before I saw the sports car tear forward, crash heartily into the back bumper of the Lotus and then speed off into the night at a near one-fifty clicks.

Such a performance was worthy of applause but one warning look from Muraki was enough to chastise me thoroughly. Funnily enough, he did not appear too upset by the damage to his car or suit. I guess when you have that much money; little incidents like those aren't all that troublesome. He inspected the back bumper, 'hmm-ed' over the damage for a minute or so and then excused himself to change his pants. When he returned he held the door open on the passenger side for me and gestured toward the comfy interior with his hand. I climbed inside as carefully as possible, trying to calculate whether or not I was falling out of my suit in the process. I made the transition safely. Muraki shut the door and got in the drivers side as I did up my seat belt. I'd never driven with Muraki before and I was certainly not going to be taking any chances. I only wished there was an **Emergency Eject **button that would launch the seat into the air if it looked as though he was likely to propel us over a cliff. I'd just have to cross my fingers and pray he wasn't in a romantic Thelma and Louise state of mind tonight.

Muraki put on his seatbelt and then started the car. The engine purred like a kitten and I found myself falling in love with it. I'd never been much of a car person but this machine was positively desirable. I would have taken it to bed with me if I could.

"So... who was that girl?" I asked once we were moving.

Muraki was staring straight ahead, his eyes focused on the road. "I told you. She was an old friend."

"She seemed a lot more than that. After all, she referred to you as Kazutaka. That's very personal, even more so than being a friend would entail."

He pursed his lips as though he were considering something unbecoming. He hesitated before speaking. "You're very intuitive, Mr. Tsuzuki. Yes, you might say that our relationship is not limited to that of mere friendship. She is in fact my fiancée."

I was definitely glad I'd been wearing a seatbelt; otherwise I would have probably gone through the windscreen. "You're engaged!"

"Yes." _Deal with it, _his voice said.

I nodded understandably. "Well, no wonder she was upset then. Most people take offence when they find out that their fiancée is cavorting about with someone of the same gender."

"Ukyou is not angry because of my infidelity." He explained, sounding amused. "She is angry because I broke off our engagement so that I could focus my attentions on you. She was not privy to my reasoning however and rather her objection lies in the manner in which I concluded our arrangement."

"You did it over the phone." I said, everything clicking into place. He nodded.

"I did. I wish now that I had gone to see her personally, if only to avoid that embarrassing spectacle. I am especially sorry that you had to have been dragged into the middle of it, Mr. Tsuzuki. It was unacceptable the manner in which she spoke to you."

As far as I could tell she had been perfectly polite, if a bit brusque. "I don't really care." I murmured crossing my arms and hunching down low in my seat. The revelation that anyone in their right mind would agree to marry Muraki had indeed shocked me deeply but not to the degree that I had taken personal offense. It was only natural that he lived a life completely separate from his dalliances as a self-proclaimed witch and murderer. Having a fiancée was one of the many cover-ups he would have orchestrated to ensure that his public concerns were attended to.

Did the fact that he had compromised this particular aspect of his life mean anything? Did it make his decision to pursue me in this more acknowledged fashion somewhat sincere?

I reminded myself that this little hitch would have meant nothing at all. Muraki cast people aside every day of his life and this squirmish with Ukyou was no validation that he sincerely wanted me emotionally. It may have been a risk to him but Muraki lived a life filled to the brim with risk. Now was no exception to the contrary. It was just him; doing what he wanted as per usual.

My thoughts skidded to a halt as I felt Muraki's hand slide across my knee, his long ghost like fingers wrapping around the rise of the cap and then squeezing indulgently. My eyes shot open.

"I'm so pleased that you agreed to join me tonight, Mr. Tsuzuki." He crooned, turning his face toward me for a moment. The lids of his eyes were half closed as though he were completely content. I felt the pressure of his hand leave my knee and I suppressed a gasp as those fingers ghosted down my leg and onto my thigh. The nails tickled my skin through the fabric of my trousers and the feeling was so forbiddingly erotic. A hot flush cascaded down my body and I'm sure my cheeks reddened. "That is a most becoming suit my friend."

"Ah... thanks..." It was difficult to comprehend what he was saying when he was tracing a circle on my inside thigh with his finger.

"Not... a lot of it though..." He mused thoughtfully.

"Ah... you mean... uh..."

I breathed a sigh of relief as he moved his finger from my leg but was awarded no reprieve for that finger now traced the split of my jacket, trailing over the visible skin all the way down to rise of one pectoral. I gulped and shoved his hand away, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning my head against the window. I edged toward the passenger side door, performing a miracle of modern engineering by squeezing myself into the gap between it and the seat and still not managing to be far away enough from Muraki. His hand was now rubbing my upper thigh as though he were a farmer checking a sheep for plumpness. I couldn't figure out how he was doing that without crashing the car. Didn't it take concentration to drive a car!

Muraki smiled as though satisfied and finally released me, turning his attention back to the road. The grin never left his handsome face and I could see it clearly every time we passed underneath a street light.

"I'm glad that it will be dark in the cinema however. I doubt I would be able to keep anyone away if they were to see you like this, Mr. Tsuzuki. How delightful that you decided to dress this way for me."

I didn't even look at him. "Don't be so presumptuous. I dressed this way for myself."

He laughed, that mischievous underhanded chuckle of his that stirred something in me so insistently. "I see. Well, you have certainly done yourself proud Mr. Tsuzuki."

I still wouldn't look at him. "You are mocking me."

We were going down a side road which I supposed led to the cinema, when Muraki suddenly pulled over onto the gravel beneath a copse of overhanging tree's. The movement of the car was so abrupt that I was tossed about in my seat like a rag doll before it lurched to a stop completely. Panic overtook my senses as I saw Muraki rip the keys out of the ignition and toss them haphazardly beneath the dash on the drivers' side. I struggled out of my seatbelt at the exact same moment that he unclipped his own and my hand hooked around the door handle, pulling it downward so forcefully I'm surprised that it did not snap off completely.

It was locked.

Muraki grabbed me. I struggled with all my might as he spun me around and his own hand went beneath my seat, desperately searching for something. He found it because a moment later the entire seat tipped backwards, taking me with it. The headrest hit the backseat and I jolted from the impact, trying still to crawl away from the imposing weight of Muraki's body as he moved on top of me. His eyes were hot behind his glasses, just like Tatsumi's had been only a half-hour earlier.

So naïve was I that I wasn't sure what Muraki had wanted at first. I thought that I had made him angry and now that I was alone he was going to hurt me. This meandering thought frightened me so much that I shoved my hands into the wall of his chest in an effort as fulfilling as trying to push over a wall of solid concrete. I could feel one of his hands sliding under my body, forcing my back to arch upward and our pelvis's to press together. I opened my mouth to scream, raised my hands to summon, kicked my legs to little effect and then realized that I was in no danger at all.

Muraki wasn't forcing himself on me. He was laying there, his body mounted upon my own. But he was merely looking at me. His eyes bore into my own, whilst his free hand gently stroked through my hair as though I were a fragile day old kitten. I could hear how fast he was breathing and knew that our momentary struggle had excited him but he wasn't acting on that at all. Rather, he seemed to only want to hold me.

"I'm not mocking you, my Tsuzuki." He said softly. His hand now traced my cheek with such tenderness I couldn't help but sigh. I'd waited for someone to touch me like this my whole life. "Do you think that I would mock you now? When I have so much need of you?"

I couldn't look away from his eyes. Only moments before I couldn't look at all and now I could not stop myself. His eyes were shining, each one perplexing in their stunning irregularity. But they weren't cold like before. He was still as unreadable as ever but by holding me down he was forcing me to confront the alternative to his personality. Muraki was a seemingly complex representation of duality and ambiguity. I doubted my ability to ever satisfactorily classify him. But for now what I could believe was that he had not been mocking me.

It wasn't like I had a choice but to believe him. He was pinning me down.

"No." I said at last. It came out sounding like a gasp for air.

"Then believe what I say to you."

The air was electric between us and at the very same time, everything within me seemed to relax into the situation Muraki had put me in. There was something... cumbersome yet erotic about the way his body was angled atop my own; one of my legs squeezed tightly between his strong thighs. He continued to stroke my hair and face and I was becoming even more sedate with the soft soothing movements against my skin. His face held no hint of a smile and he looked a little lost himself.

"Tsuzuki..."

I couldn't bear hearing him speak my name like that. Without the official title it sounded so personal and... god forbid, sweet. That husky yet strange voice with its nasal quality made love to my very name in the manner I know now that Muraki for so long desired to replicate. Just by speaking my name he told me all that he promised to reward me, were I to remain constant.

And I had wanted to take him up on that.

I wanted to see what effect I had on him, so I spoke his name back.

"Muraki..."

Both his hands moved to cup my face. His thumbs brushing the rise of my cheeks, just above my lips. I felt my eyes flutter closed. It was like I was in a trance.

"Muraki..."

I risked a peek. His eyes were also shut. I closed mine again and leant upwards, my hands cupping the definitive curve of his waist and pulling him against me. I'd lost sight of guilt and the obligation to my friends at the Ministry at this point. I was crazy with the desire for someone to love me. And Muraki was being so gentle and considerate that what passed between us in these few moments didn't matter anymore. I just wanted to stay this way for a while. I just wanted to feel safe and appreciated.

"Tsuzuki..." I heard him breathe from an inch above my lips. I felt the hot air against my skin and my body trembled. "If you want me to kiss you... you must ask me."

The thread snapped. My eyes darted open and met his.

"W-what?"

"I will not keep kissing you if I even have the slightest doubt that you desire it." He murmured, his fingernails pressing into the back of my scalp to ensure that I was paying complete attention. His nose was touching mine even as he spoke so it was kind of difficult to forget he was there. "If you would like for me to kiss you, then you must ask that I do so. I will not do anything that you do not want, Mr. Tsuzuki."

_Don't call me 'Mr.' anymore. _"Why this then? Why pull over on the side of the road and pin me down and treat me so tenderly if you do not mean to take what you want?" I could hear the emotion in my voice and it was embarrassingly honest. "Can you not tell what I want by the way I am touching you? That I do not struggle? Can you not tell by the way I speak your name? I can tell! Why do I have to say it if you can see it for yourself!"

His voice was grim. "Because I have chosen to condemn myself to something, Mr. Tsuzuki. I have committed myself to you and no other. Last night, I asked you permission if I could kiss you. It is only fair that you extend the same privilege to me."

I was seeing red. My body was literally trembling with anger, at the fact that I was being denied of something that I wanted and being told that I must instead beg for it like some sort of a dog! It was one of my pet hates. If I wanted something and it was withdrawn from me, I was incited. I would fight to win it back and I would not be reduced to pleading or scraping for the mere scraps of it.

My hands lashed upward from his waist so suddenly that I think Muraki was startled. He jerked back a little as my hands grabbed each side of his face and I pulled myself up to meet his lips with my own. Maybe he expected me to be angry, as I had expected him when he pulled over earlier. But now we knew very well what the other was.

The kiss went on and on, our lips making subtle adjustments against one another's and neither consenting to come up for air. Muraki lowered me down onto the car seat, both arms wrapped around my body in a way that still managed to ensure my comfort. I didn't have much experience in these areas but all the right feelings were racing through my body so I gathered I was doing okay. I felt him move against me and I gasped softly, registering the heat of his desire touch down upon my own. Instinctively, I spread my legs apart and he moved into place between them, allowing even more pressure to crush against my pelvis. It was so bad, so selfish but I was enjoying myself. For all his faults Muraki was skilled when it came to manipulating my body and his soft nudges at my lips soon became insistent nips and licks, enquiring entry into my mouth. My whole body shuddered the very second I granted him access and I wanted to clamp my lips back together but I was immediately glad that I chose not to. Not only was he able to move his tongue against my own, which was a feeling to die again for but also our kisses became even deeper as a result.

It had been so long since I'd been kissed like this. It had been so long since I'd been _touched _like this. It didn't matter who it was with, the sensation was worth it. Good God that man knew how to play this game. He knew every cheat, every code, every walkthrough, every little twist, turn, shortcut, up, down, duck and dive. My arms snaked around his neck; my tongue lapping at the interior of his mouth as though I were dying of thirst and his lips fed me water. I felt his pelvis floor mine again and this time, without thinking, I bucked my hips upward and felt an amazing heated reaction course through my body. Muraki popped his lips free, his pale cheeks ruddy and his glasses askew.

"Mr. Tsuzuki!" He gasped. He spoke my name the same way he had when I'd stabbed him. Mollified.

I panted breathlessly, my face as innocent as I could make it. He looked at me scoldingly.

"Since you were so bold as to take from me what you wanted, don't think that I will not take from you what _I _desire if you tease me like that again." He said, his voice ragged. I could tell that he meant it.

I couldn't even reply, I was too short of breath. Too shocked and astounded by my lack of control. Muraki must have realized this. He kissed me again, his lips pressing softly to mine for a few seconds before slowly sliding free. I tilted my head back, my breath steadily increasing as his lips deliberately coursed a path across the visible patch of my chest, moving down as far as the fabric would allow. I suddenly wanted to go further, to feel those lips go lower but he had indulged himself for the time being. He took his weight off of my body and cocked an eyebrow at me as he moved away and slid back into the drivers seat. I was left a confused mess on the horizontal passengers seat, my hair even more of a mess than it was to begin with and my breathing all over the place.

"Now you understand how awful it is to be teased by something you want so badly and have it taken away from you when you think you can have it at your leisure." Muraki said, winking at me cockily.

I could have knifed the smug bastard. _Again._

"Asshole..." I hissed, aiming for the heart with a most contemptuous expression.

Muraki evaded its intent and retrieved the keys from underneath the dash. He started the car then looked over at me once more.

"Ah... I _do _enjoy seeing you on your back my dear Tsuzuki."

"_Mr. _Tsuzuki." I reminded him as I straightened my seat up and clipped on the safety harness. "And don't you go forgetting it anytime soon."

It was a weak little threat. I said it to make myself feel better, because I was so beyond embarrassment now that the passion was wearing off. Muraki knew that and he ignored me. He just smiled to himself as he pulled back onto the road and continued toward the cinema, our road a contradictory linear line, so unlike the complex twists and turns of our thoughts and the tangle our paths had wound themselves into since the day they had crossed for the very first time.

_**- Scene Change -**_

The ride to the cinema was uneventful, following that little episode. We didn't talk and Muraki filled the silence by playing tapes. I wondered whether his insipid fondness of love songs was something he had always been partial too or if he thought it appropriate whilst in my presence. Whatever the case, I was relieved when we arrived at the cinema and could finally escape from the whiny woes of teenage girls and a man who just wanted to 'take the blows and do it his way.'

Yes sir, torture comes in all forms for Kazutaka Muraki.

I had been hoping that Muraki would have taken me to one of the less notorious cinema's on the outside of Tokyo, rather than the mainstream inner city joint that every man, woman, teenager, child and their dog frequented. Of course, Muraki being Muraki, always went for size over discretion and naturally I'd found myself at the Inner Tokyo Cinema. The name was spelled out in gold lights and smacked dab directly in the center of the pink glowing border surmounting the doorway. It looked like a sleazy strip club rather than a cinema.

Once we had parked the car and made our way inside, Muraki noticed that I couldn't stop looking around. "This your first time here?"

I nodded. "Everything is so big! And there are so many people here! How on earth will we get a seat?"

Muraki smiled genially at me as we moved our way through the throng of people toward the ticket booth. We were regarded with many awed expressions and I put it down to the fact that Muraki was so well known in Tokyo because of his profession and his exotic good looks. Coupled with my suit I supposed that we were a little conspicuous.

"Don't worry," He told me, pressing the palm of his hand into the small of my back. I squirmed before realizing that this was how he was keeping me from being swallowed up by the crowd. He was pushing me along beside him, using the walls of our bodies to clear a path and not lose one another. "The movie that I am taking you to see has been showing here for quite some time now. It has been delegated to one of the smaller theaters and there will be less people viewing it at this stage. We may practically have the entire place to ourselves."

This man was truly a force to be reckoned with. A big bead of sweat coursed down the side of my face at the suggestive pinch he deposited against my waist.

"Muraki... I do not intend for anything to happen in the middle of a public place! So don't try anything with me, you got that!"

He kissed me. Right in front of a thousand or so people.

I was mortified. If I hadn't already been dead I'm sure the embarrassment would have killed me. I nearly fell over, that shocked was I and Muraki had to hold me up by the arm wrapped around my lower back. We looked like we were dancing. Over his shoulder I could see a few high school girls giggling and blushing at what had just happened. I didn't understand. What the hell were _they _so happy about!

"MURAKI!" I yelled wiping at my lips furiously. It was not so much that I didn't like him kissing me. That was fine, just as long as there was no one else around. But in the light of day, in front of people... I wouldn't have kissed _anyone _in public like _that_, let alone Muraki! There are just some things that you do behind closed doors or in parked cars for that matter!

Muraki was smiling at me, ignorant of the stunned faces of the people around us. The girls were now poised in the background with _camera's _of all things! What's the world coming to!

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tsuzuki. Did I embarrass you?" He sounded so phony.

I leaned close to hiss in his ear and we ended up doing some stupid hoppy movement as Muraki followed the line heading to the ticket booth and I was forced to tiptoe with him. A camera flash went off.

"Muraki, don't you _dare _kiss me in public again, do you hear me!" I snapped, hopping along with him again. Muraki cocked his head at me and grinned suggestively.

"So, I am perfectly entitled to kiss you when we are in private then?"

There was simply no evading this man. "If circumstances allow for it Muraki! But _never _in public!"

He made an indignant noise through his nose, still managing to sound gentlemanly whilst doing so. "You cause more of a spectacle when you fuss over it, just like you are now. Most people would simply dismiss the odd kiss or too. Do not be so presumptuous to think that the entire world is concerned with what you are doing, Mr. Tsuzuki."

"Presumptuous!" I snapped.

He nodded and we danced up the line a bit more. There was another camera flash.

"Yes, Mr. Tsuzuki. You are constantly concerned with how people are going to judge you and perceive each and every one of your actions. You should relax about things like that. The world is not watching your every move, waiting to see what you may or may not do. That is why a stray kiss here and there is not going to make much of a difference."

"What ever happened to asking whether or not you could kiss me? Hmm?"

His visible eye was tinged with humor, coursing upward from the charismatic curl of his lip. "You saw fit to _take, _my love. A relationship does not consist of asking and permitting, that is what I am trying to make you understand. It is spontaneous and at the same time it is fair to both parties. We need not ask but we may refute the advancement of the other if we do not want it."

"I AM refuting it! I don't want you kissing me!"

"You felt differently in the car. And I should know. I got a good feel of what you wanted."

I couldn't believe what he had just said. My face was so red you could fry an egg on it and then have enough heat left over for a sausage or two. I was unable to react until we had reached the front of the line. Muraki, pleased at winning our exchange, pulled me up beside him and slipped an arm around my waist as he spoke to the girl in the booth.

"Excuse me, Miss? I have two tickets reserved under K. Muraki?" The doctor inquired smoothly. The girl standing inside of the booth blushed a little at his address and went into an immediate flurry at the pleasure of serving him.

"Ah yes, Dr. Muraki! We have your tickets here for you. I'll just get them. Please wait a moment!" With that she disappeared under the line of the booth and began to search somewhere out of sight for the aforementioned tickets. I waited patiently, my interest consumed by a poster on the wall about industrial accidents. Muraki leant close and pecked me softly on the cheek. Another camera flash went off.

"What the hell are we! A walking circus!" I steamed, wishing that I didn't nearly believe that. "And _you_! I told you! No kissing!"

Muraki pretended to be surprised. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you meant I couldn't kiss you on the mouth in public."

This had me _very, very _worried. Would I have to list all the places that he _couldn't _kiss me to ensure that he wouldn't try it? What if we were in the cinema, in the dark and he tried to...?

Muraki fished a white handkerchief out of his pocket and held it up to my nose. "You're bleeding." He said simply.

Who could blame me?

When I'd stopped my nosebleed and we'd collected our tickets, Muraki and I made our way to the Concession Stand. I was starving to eat everything there but Muraki insisted I only get a few snacks to nibble on or else I'd spoil dinner. He sounded just like my mother.

In the end, I made my way into the dark movie theater with six boxes of Pocky, a large Coke and a bag of gummi sweets. Muraki had paid, which I was glad for but he hadn't been happy about it. His eyebrow was continually raised at me, even in the dark.

"Was it completely necessary to buy all of that food?" He was hesitant about using the term 'food' here. "_Pocky_? Aren't you a little old to be eating that?"

"Ridiculous!" I exclaimed through a mouthful of gummi's and soda. "_No one _is too old to eat Pocky! It is age friendly! Now... where are we going to sit?"

Muraki surveyed the dark theater with a critical eye. He was right; it didn't look as though many people were frequenting this film for the time being and pretty much every seat was vacant. He eventually took my hand and started leading me in the general direction of the back row. I felt my stomach seize up and I had a difficult time swallowing my food.

"Why all the way back here?" I asked, tugging on his hand to make him stop. He turned to look at me, teeth shining from behind his vindictive smile.

"So that we are able to, as the young one's put it, 'make out' without disturbing the other patrons." He said.

He was only half joking.

We sat down and I put all my effort into the consumption of my snacks. Classical music was playing through the speakers; the lights dim in that dusky fashion preceding the movie itself. I watched as the young group of high school girls from before made their way into the cinema and started looking around for a place to sit. At least, that's what I hope they were looking for.

"Hey, this may seem like a dumb question but what movie are we watching?" I asked stuffing a few sticks of different flavored Pocky into my mouth and giving them all a good chew.

Muraki was delighted to indulge me. "The film is called '_A Trip for Two.' _It's about a man with the power to defy time itself and how he uncovers the truth behind a grisly serial murder. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

Oh, I'd heard of it all right. It was a German film, written by the director Oleg Francis, renowned all over the globe for his enthralling and complex storylines. This film was rumored to be his greatest cinematic achievement to date. _And _it was a romance.

Trust Muraki.

The doctor chose to ignore my expression and instead flipped the top off of the water he had bought. He took a sip, generously sliding the water all around the inside of his mouth before swallowing. He dabbed away the stray droplets with the same handkerchief he'd used to clean up my nosebleed. The bloodstains were very close to his lips and I think he was nearly tempted to taste them. I tried not to stare, failed. He caught the look on my face this time and sighed deeply, tucking the hanky away into his pocket.

"Forgive me, Mr. Tsuzuki. But this is reality. I have demons blood coursing through my veins and sometimes it is difficult to resist the... well the blood lust. You surely feel it at times too, do you not?"

I shook my head. "No, I... I would never... and I never have..."

"You have accepted your human half over that of your demon half. I am the opposite. It is unfortunate that neither of us has obtained the middle ground," He mused, screwing the cap back on top of the bottle and setting it in the cup holder. "Perhaps this way you and I can reach that center balance. With you, I hope to obtain more of my lost humanity. With me, perhaps you can accept the demon half of yourself and be at peace with who you are."

I remembered the red stains upon the roses. I never wanted to even touch upon that place I had come to when I was a child. It had messed me up for years. It _still _messes me up until this very day.

"There is possible merit in that." I stated, trying to make my voice sound matter-of-fact. "But that is not what this arrangement entails, Muraki. I'm here so that you may forfeit that demon side of yourself. I am here because you want me and I want you to stop taking life that you have no right to take."

"You think that you are here because you want to stop people from dying." Muraki said in a tone so ambiguous one couldn't say whether it was a question, a statement, a confirmation. What I could tell though, was that I don't think that he believed if for a second.

I'm not sure if Muraki ever truly considered the precarious nature of our association. My stabbing him in Kyoto should have been proof enough that he should have treated me with more than just polite amusement and yet even now, he did not seem the least bit concerned in my presence. I looked at him, wishing and not for the first time that I could take a peek into his true emotions and find out exactly what he was thinking rather than be toyed with by duplicitous signals and cross-references. In the car I was certain that I had seen him drop his guard. It occurred to me that this reaction was as a result of my confidence when I'd moved against him.

I'd never considered using my body as a means to assert myself, in any situation. If I ever had, it had been unconsciously. I thought to myself that this may have been the way, the only _effective_ way that I could overpower Muraki in all senses but that thought in itself was so bold I could barely entertain it, let alone enact it. I found myself blushing all over again.

I watched Muraki's profile fade into darkness as the commercials started and then I too turned my attention to the screen. For about an hour into the movie there was very little interaction between us. Muraki was particular about when he chose to speak and if he wasn't offering an insightful and often unnecessary interpretation, he'd usually keep quiet and allow ample silence in which to fully enjoy the movie. I'd only ever had a few dates with him but each and every time it had been the same.

Except Kyoto. But it wasn't just Muraki who had changed then. In Kyoto _everyone _had changed.

The movie was excellent and I was really enjoying it. Though I'll be the first to admit the enjoyment factor did decrease somewhat when I'd run out of food and soda. About three quarters of the way into the film, the main character went through an emotional turntable as he searched for his lover in the 15th century, where he had lost her during the previous visit. He'd learnt that she was going to be burnt at the stake for witchcraft and he didn't make it in time to save her.

I snuffled a little and wiped at my eyes with my sleeve. The scene started to get more emotional and my snuffles got louder. I felt huge gobby tears rolling down my cheeks and I smothered a little whimper.

"There, there now Mr. Tsuzuki..." Muraki soothed, putting an arm around my shoulder. My entire body stiffened. "You do know that it's only a movie right? It didn't really happen."

"Those sort of things happened all the time in the Western countries!" I all but sobbed. I could feel Muraki's hand rubbing my shoulder comfortingly like Watari or Tatsumi would in the same situation. "I read about it in a book! They used to burn all these innocent women for crimes they didn't commit! It wasn't fair! They didn't do anything wrong!"

"I know, I know they didn't... shhh..." He whispered as he drew me in close. Without thinking, I rested my head against his shoulder and buried my face into the material of his jacket. I knew he was only humoring me but the comfort made me feel better just the same.

"Are you cold, Mr. Tsuzuki?" Without waiting for an answer, he lifted my trench coat and slung it around my shoulders as best he could, returning his arm to its previous position and then resting his head atop my own. "You feel such empathy towards the oppressed, don't you?" He asked rhetorically. I'd certainly demonstrated this motive enough times in his presence for him to be certain of the answer. I felt his hand slide over the armrest and his fingers link between my own. I liked that feeling and I let him twine our fingers around one another's, occasionally separating to stroke palms and knuckles and wrists. I looked up into his face. He seemed perfectly content to forego the rest of the movie if I would allow him this intimacy.

"You are... beautiful..." He told me, lifting my hand up to his face and resting my fingers on one of his shining cheeks. I swallowed deeply as I felt the wetness there and realized that he had shed but a single tear. At what I do not know. But I felt that tear and I saw it in the light from the movie screen, coursing its way down his cheek and then onto my palm. It disappeared beneath the sleeve of my jacket and across the scars on my wrist. In the very next second, Muraki's fingers had deftly pulled the watchband down revealing that awful latticework of hatred and regret. I wanted to pull away but then he was kissing them and I lost track of all rational thought.

_He was kissing my scars..._

I wanted to cry even more. I wanted to beat him to a pulp and tear him apart. But I also wanted to kiss him fiercely and hold him and thank him for touching the part of me I couldn't even bear to look upon myself. I loved and hated this man so much for what he did.

I smothered a sob as he took a hold of my wrist, angling my arm before his face so that he was able to encase the scarred flesh completely within his warm mouth. I was panting, panting in fervor, of madness and _want. _His tongue traced the rigid lining, his lips peppering the skin as though attempting to heal what was already beyond healing. When his mouth fell away he would nuzzle the perpetually reddened tight flesh with the side of his face, one hand pressing his fingers up through the gaps of my own, holding onto me tightly lest I float up from reality. My lips trembled.

"Muraki..." I whimpered.

He left one lingering kiss on my scars and lowered my arm, still gripping my hand with one of his own. His free hand snuck over the armrest and slowly descended on my thigh. I didn't dismiss him, just gazed into his face, telling him to have all that he wanted of me. That permission unto me was his. That hand took heed and set to work caressing the flesh through the pant leg, the erotic sensation building up in waves to short sharp climaxes whenever he moved inward and closer to my pelvis. We were in a public place and my back was arching and my body literally shuddered and heaved in anticipation the moment his fingers grazed the very seam on my pants outlining my groin. Muraki lifted his upper body over the armrest and moved his face close to mine. He didn't say anything but his breathing was heavy as he kissed me deeply, his tongue massaging mine ever so slowly. I tentatively wound my fingers around the fabric of his jacket and I felt myself blush as I began to work it away from his body. He assisted me and eventually pushed it aside, revealing his whipcord body outlined beneath a befitting white shirt. My hands pressed into his waist as he kissed me again and then again, pressing kisses into my lips as though they were bullets fired from a gun. The hand on my thigh moved.

"Is this what you want?" He asked seductively. He didn't have to explain. The heel of his hand pressed down hard against my crotch and the friction was so outstanding I thought I would faint. I writhed beneath that one touch like a bug skewered on a stick.

"Is this what you want?" He asked again. This time, his entire hand cupped me and squeezed hard, the pressure driving me mad. I thrust against his grip but he teasingly released me, moving his mouth to within an inch of my own. "See how quickly you forsake your delicate concern for the public eye, all for the chance that I might release you of your passion?"

My fist clenched tightly around the fabric of his white shirt and he pulled him in even closer, my teeth clenched to the point of shattering into a thousand pieces. "Don't you _fuck _with me Muraki!"

His smile widened. "My love... I thought that was exactly what you wanted." As proof of this, he touched me again and I was reminded even more of my urgent need for completion. My back was completely arched off of the seat, fingers opening and closing as though reaching for anything of substance to hold me back. I was in a lot of trouble.

"You're the one who... who wants it you... you bastard..." I groaned between my teeth.

"Oh yes, I most certainly do." He said. Then he took my hand and showed me.

I didn't have time to really rate the feeling because someone screaming from the front row got in the way. I instantly jerked my hand away from Muraki's crotch, thinking that we were about to get arrested for indecent public displays of affection or something when I realized that everyone was looking in the opposite direction. I gazed back toward the screen and exclaimed loudly.

The picture was covered with what looked like black smog, flowing outward from each corner. As it met in the center, each tendril wound around itself and formed in the middle of the venomous darkness two glowing yellow eyes and a gaping rectangular maw outlined by five or six rows of needle sharp teeth. The entity rose up from the movie screen and a strange sound erupted from the mouth. It sounded like a horse gargling with acid if I had to describe it in any particular way.

I was on my feet in a flash. "It's a demon!"

Muraki moved to stand beside me, eyes transfixed on the bizarre creature. "It is Balban; the Daemon of Delusion."

I hadn't heard of it myself but then again, demon's were Watari's specialty not mine. I just beat them up and occasionally got possessed by them. It was a confusing turn of events though. Why would a demon appear in front of so many potential witnesses and risk the delicate balance between Casual and Acasual spaces? Only rogue demons were foolish enough to attempt something like that and from my Second level of Penetration I sensed that this demon was on a Level 4 distinction, which did not classify it as a rogue. Rather as a certifiable soldier. A powerful one at that.

Balban made that same sound again and a semi-permeable vibration cascaded outwards from it at a two hundred and eighty degree angle. I watched as it hit the people in the very front row and they were frozen in place when the sound wave hit. I had seen this spell at work before. It was Paralysis Fever. It activated the neurons in the brain that caused Sleep Paralysis and ignited them into reacting whilst the victim was conscious. The spell was fast approaching up the seats and I realized I was going to have to get out of the way. I inhaled deeply and Jumped, displacing the kinetic energy beneath my feet and propelling myself upward into the air. Muraki cursed and vaulted off of the back of his seat, managing to get just enough air to avoid the clip of the spell but coming down heavily enough to jarr both his ankles. This surprised me. I knew first hand that Muraki was certainly capable of Teleportation and Hovering at the very least. Why didn't he use one of these tactics to remove himself from the threat?

I put this out of my mind and settled back on the ground, my eyes trained on the demon's smoky form. The people in the front row were the one's in immediate danger, so it was imperative that I put myself between them and Balban. I tensed; ready to take off toward the front of the cinema when I felt Muraki grasp me by the upper arm. His eyes were bright.

"Don't you dare, Mr. Tsuzuki." He exclaimed as he pulled me back firmly toward him. "I will not risk seeing you injured by this creature. You are mine."

I tugged myself out of his grasp, slapping at his hand with all the strength I possessed. "I am not yours! And _I _won't risk innocents being hurt! This is my job Muraki."

His eyes were downcast, the longer clumps of silver hair masking his expression from sight. "I... I do not have the power to protect you, Mr. Tsuzuki. I have given up killing... when I killed, I drained the souls from the bodies of my victims. That's what gave me power. Now that I have stopped I have very little _mana _left within me. And if Balban were to injure you, I would be required to kill him and I may not have that ability."

"Required?"

"It is demon tradition," He explained. "You must understand. You are mine, Mr. Tsuzuki. I have chosen you as my mate. It is my obligation to protect you."

"An obligation to protect me... well isn't that a delightful little perk?" I said sharply and Muraki had an expression of aggravation for just the hair of a second.

"You are mine to protect..." He repeated and he looked very demonic in his declaration. He pulled me to him and smothered my protests with a passionate kiss. There was something terribly flattering in someone wanting to protect you but it was a stupid argument to be having in this situation. I felt a rush of air on the back of my neck and when I looked up Balban was hovering directly above our heads.

" _- Lovers! - " _The deep voice sounded all too much like a faulty intercom but it was coming from the creature before us. " _- I sincerely hope that you enjoyed your last kiss for you shall share no more from this day forth. - I am Balban, the Daemon of Delusion. - Mitkiel sends his best and advises that Tsuzuki come willingly or I shall bring him bathed in the blood of the other. - "_

"Mitkiel?" I wondered, trying to ignore the cage Muraki had wound around me with his arms. I had my hands pressed into his chest in an effort to keep from being pulled against him like some stereotypical female love interest. Like someone who needed protecting. Muraki's head was bowed over mine and his body angled defensively before my own. He tossed his hair aside, revealing his false eye and leveled both at the hovering demon. I kept expecting him to move, to speak.

And he did. "He is _mine._" He didn't roar it such as he had with me only moments earlier, but his voice had been so cold and venomous it became that much more intense. He pulled me even closer against his body, moving his own slightly forward. Shielding me.

"I'm _not _yours." I hissed over his shoulder. His eyes were still focused on Balban but I could see just the hint of frustration leak across his face like blotted ink.

"You would rather be his?" He asked rhetorically. I didn't answer. I can do that.

The demon didn't take long to digest this. Perhaps he had already guessed what our reaction was likely to be, because he wasted no time in making good his promise.

And I'll give the cinema seats this much; they may have been as uncomfortable as Hell but they were hard and sturdy little battlers. It took Balban exactly five seconds to swoop down and attempt to slam his big smoky head into our bodies and in that time, Muraki had tugged me down behind the row of seats in front of where we'd been sitting. Balban raked over the tops of the seats but the lack of distance he'd maintained whilst driving forward meant that he hadn't gained enough momentum to pass through. The headrests were knocked from the seats and he was sent tumbling and crashing into the wall behind us.

I wasted no time. Whilst the demon was momentarily stunned, I twisted in Muraki's hold, dropping both arms around his neck and literally yanked him out of our handy dandy little hiding place. Due to the lack of room in the back, I bounded toward the front of the cinema where the handful of other patrons, including the group of high school girls, had been sitting and were now frozen in the rictus of the spell. Muraki's feet were scrambling across the carpet and then kicking at the air unceremoniously whenever I'd vault a row of seats. Our hasty retreat went mostly unnoticed by Balban. He was currently roped up in the cinema seats he had managed to accumulate in his daunting dive, most of which he was throwing haphazardly in all directions in an effort to shake loose. After I'd taken a quick glance at the demon, my feet touched down on one of the very first rows of seats. I bounced off of the cushion like a kid on a trampoline, losing my grip on Muraki. He crashed as elegantly as possible into the isle and then rose to his feet in a method that didn't even involve using his hands. I swear, is there any situation that man gets himself into where he doesn't come out of it looking sophisticated?

I moved to his side.

"I don't have any _fuda_," I explained, referring to the charm paper I employed as a means of enforcing my spiritual abilities. It hadn't even occurred to me to bring any tonight, which is probably quite telling. "But I still should be able to cast the reversal spell and release these people from the Paralysis. But I need you to cause a distraction. If I'm interrupted whilst casting, I will have to start from the beginning and I think that it is in everyone's best interests that I get it right the first time."

"Oh absolutely." Said Muraki, sounding fairly unconvinced. I don't think he was altogether that concerned with what happened to the innocents as long as he and I got out of this alive. I was about to berate him about his inhuman attitude and reminding him that one hand washes the other around here and so forth when he silenced me by a gentile gesture of his hand. It was so prim you would think the man a prince. "Very well. I shall keep him away from this half of the cinema, Mr. Tsuzuki. But as I told you, my powers are none too strong, so don't expect any theatrics."

"I don't care how pretty it is! If it distracts him, it'll do!" I snapped bounding over the first row of seats and moving to stand beneath the large screen, where even the movie itself had frozen. I guessed that Balban's spell had taken out the gentleman spooling the film in the little room at the back of the theater too.

Speak of the devil, Balban had eventually disentangled himself from the affectionate cinema seats and was swiveling to face Muraki and I. Though, telling back from front with this particular demon was a task in and of itself. The glowing red eyes and gnashing teeth gave it away in the end.

_" - Insolent children! -" _It crackled, descending down the isle like a somnolent storm front. " _- Here I offer you the option of accompanying me peacefully and you spit in my face! - "_

"Creature, you spat in your own face." Muraki stated, his voice so calm and smooth it was as though he were addressing his mother. This seemed very appropriate somehow. "I have warned you; Asato Tsuzuki is _mine. _Now, return to your master and make him aware of this fact also. I have no more to make of you or your insulting offer of peaceful submission."

The demon paused to consider this; the long tendrils that made up its lateral segments creeping through the rows of seats and winding forward across the teal carpet. When it remained still, it broke apart like a wall of fog on a rainy day. I watched as one slanted red eye closed and then the other squinted into a mere cut. It looked as if it were having trouble seeing Muraki clearly.

" _- I sense demons' blood in you. -" _It spoke, without the slightest hint of inflection in its' tone. One couldn't tell whether it found this knowledge delightful, frightening or if it really didn't give a rat's ass either way. " _- No matter. Mitkiel is one of the Nine. He is of the Second hour; a master demon. A full blood, unlike you. Your demon blood is barely a drop in the ocean. A spit in a bucket, as they say. Practically... nothing. Mitkiel has chosen this one to be his mate and this one will comply. It is his prerogative. A mere quarter breed like you has no right to claim that which the master seeks."_

This whole time I had been uttering the Reversal Spell, trying not to listen to what they were saying. It seemed a little rude however, that I was not the least bit consulted as to what it was _I _actually wanted but I guess demon's can be arrogant like that. They will spend centuries fighting over something they hope to obtain and forget the will and conscious life of the being itself. Whatever the case, I couldn't let it get to me. Talk at this point, nothing more.

This talk had angered Muraki though. I'd just finished the final syllable of the spell and the wave was spreading outward to encompass the frozen bodies when an almighty clap of energy displaced the floor beneath me and I was slammed forcefully against the wall beneath the cinema screen. I looked on, stunned, as a halo of white light circled Muraki's head once and a pillar of silver flame erupted from his outstretched palm like a mighty dove arching its' wings toward the Heavens. Muraki's attack had been a little overzealous to say the least. The silver plume rose into the air and then slammed directly into the center of Balban's chest, driving the dusty abomination back into the far wall and pouring against him with unstoppable determination. It was like watching a waterfall, continually pounding upon a gully of rocks without mercy. Balban thrashed, its cries echoing throughout the mostly empty room like the roar of white noise. I winced, my temples panging furiously in objection and glanced quickly to Muraki. His face was eerily calm, the only indication of his rage the judgmental curl of his lower lip and the flashing shine of his irregular eye, visible through a small part in his hair. Much of his attack had taken out a whole line of cinema seats, leaving charred and blackened debris in its' wake.

The patrons, released from the spell had clearly gotten more than they'd bargained for on their night out. They were flocking for the closest available exits and no one, I am pleased to say, was flashing a camera. Which was a good thing since it would cause so many problems later when it came round to erasing their memories.

It took me a minute or so to get my essence under control and climb to my feet. In that time however, Muraki had burnt himself out like an old kerosene lamp and was crouching on the floor, one hand pressed to the wall of his white shirt and his face uncharacteristically struck. His teeth were bared and both eyes crazed.

"He. Is. MINE!" Came the booming voice from Muraki's mouth. He sounded pretty damn firm about it too. I couldn't detect any derision in his expression when he climbed to his feet. Even I was afraid to deny what he was saying. "You insignificant little worm! Neither you nor the one whom you serve has the power to remove my mate from me! I sought him, whom my soul loves and found him I did after a lifetime of searching!" His wicked fingers curved into the carnal grasp of claws, the long nails shining in what little light there was. "I shall lay to waste any whom would dare so much as attempt to possess him; for he is mine. Should it entail that I would run myself to ruin in the process then so be it. For I shall see him dead once more before I see him in the hands of your master."

"Muraki..." I called but he ignored me. There was a tight feeling across my chest and I knew it was because of how emotionlessly Muraki was dealing with what he saw as a threat to me. No... it wasn't so much that he loved me. As Pandora had said; Muraki would not die by the hands of another to spare my own life. He would die to protect what he saw as belonging to him. He would die at the hands of another to protect a possession.

_He is mine..._

_He is mine to kill..._

We really weren't that different at all, were we?

There were no more innocents in the room, so I saw this as the perfect opportunity to summon. But first I would have to get Muraki out of the way, or my Guardian's were more likely to kill him than the demon. I concentrated and felt the kinetic energy swell beneath my feet. My energy was converted to raw speed and I shot towards the doctor, arms outstretched. Not a second too soon as it were. The moment I collided with him, Balban fired off a String Cortex; six beads of burning light that erupted directly from the demons bloodstream and sliced through skin as effectively as a knife through butter. Muraki exclaimed loudly as I hit him and elbowed me directly atop the cranium in an attempt to see what on earth I was up to. The blow was hard. My vision swam for a moment until my accelerated healing ability took care of it and then we were airborne; the spell crashing harmlessly into the carpeted floor. Well... harmlessly to us at least and that's what counts. As we sailed through the air, I mentally envisioned an invisible shield surrounding us and cast Impermia. It was fortunate that I did because the next attack Balban fired off was even more powerful than the first. Three balls of fire; yellow, red and blue, the color suggesting a different heat and threat, slammed against the invisible wall. The impact rocked me and my landing on the far side of the cinema was somewhat shaky as a result. I jarred both my ankles as the weight collapsed into my feet, Muraki's own body adding to that but he was quick to relieve me by pulling out of my grasp. His forehead was pricked with sweat and I knew it was a result of his foolish power expenditure.

" _- Maggots! - " _Balban roared, flowing steadily above the seats toward us. " _- If Mitkiel were aware of how much trouble you were, he would not waste his time with such benighted creatures! I ask you again; come willingly Tsuzuki. If you agree now, I shall spare your lover. I see he is weak and he shall not heal as rapidly such as you and I are able to. Such guilt on your conscience would rather be avoided, no? - "_

Muraki's entire body was heaving, his anger raw. He practically spat his next words. "Silence! How dare you try to barter with him! How dare you so much as address him! You are _unworthy _of directing that filthy rubbish to Tsuzuki!"

I grabbed his arm to prevent him doing something rash like flipping the bird and getting the both of us nicely incinerated as a result. I'd never seen the doctor so fired up in all the time I had known him. Which was something I guess, though it wasn't really altogether that romantic a gesture. Honestly, those two were like a pair of insecure primary school boys, preening and gloating about improvised masculine achievements behind the bike shed, all in the name of impressing a girl who probably didn't even know their names. It was kind of sad.

I quickly switched to my Second Level of Sixth Sense Penetration and noticed something alarming. Muraki had moved outside of the range of my Impermia. If I had noticed it, it was very likely that Balban had noticed it too. Any second now he could fire off a spell and take him out.

_Why was I so worried about his safety? _

I grabbed Muraki by the inside elbow and yanked him back close to me, not really thinking about why I did it. Muraki being killed would have solved a lot of my current problems. Yet despite the logic, it didn't seem appropriate somehow to let him be killed over such an absent slip and by such an... annoying demon.

Muraki glanced at me, sidelong. "Mr. Tsuzuki. You must summon."

I had been on the verge of doing so but Muraki's prompting spurred me into action that little bit faster. I shut my eyes, focusing on the feeling of the _mana _inside of me. I felt it react as my mental psyche entwined with my spiritual essence, igniting in the center like a spark upon paper and flaring up to consume my entire being. Summoning a Guardian was physically and spiritually draining but for that one small moment, the concoction of subtle variations within my soul, the slight adjustment to each and every tiny stimulus rushing against me was incomparable. I was alive for those few wonderful, fleeting seconds.

"I bow to thee and beseech you: The twelve gods that protect me-"

I felt something rock against the Impermia and then an energy displacement as Muraki fired something back at Balban.

"Anytime, Mr. Tsuzuki." He sounded calm but his voice was strained. I assumed that my divided concentration had weakened the shield and Balban was now attempting to break through it. As though confirming my thoughts, another blast rocked the shield. This time I could actually feel the heat from the spell. I needed to hurry.

My fingers crossed over each other and I positioned them before my eyes; a simple method of summoning without a pentagram. Enticement, conveyance... it streaked through me and cut deep into the Acasual space where the guardians resided. I felt it connect to the very one I was calling and the cord tightened, the pressure escalating at the unspoken verification. I was to be aided.

" - appear before me. Come out; Suzaku!"

I have seen it first hand a thousand times and yet 'till this very day, the vision never ceases to amaze me. The magnificant Phoenix erupted from the flames that birthed it; fire red eyes glowing as it soared high above our heads, wings and tail ignite as it set down behind me, throwing light throughout the darkness of the cinema. Muraki regarded the Guardian carefully. Suzaku had once destroyed his own Summons; a three headed dragon called Hydra and though impressed by my ability in calling forth these powerful entities, I think he was just that little more wary of them now. Seeing them ignite entire buildings and turning them to rubble tends to do that to you.

Balban's teeth gnashed furiously. " _- He has Suzaku! -"_

I made a rushed gesture with two fingers and Suzaku obeyed immediately. She came down upon Balban with the force of Hell itself, her broad head ramming him directly between those glaring red eyes in an attempt to drive him back. The fog that made up Balban was mostly intangible however and Suzaku passed right through him. Unlike the demon, her reflexes were much better and she was able to avoid a near collision with the wall. Her belly scraped the surface as she flew directly upward and circled the room like a vulture eyeing off a dying animal. She was gaining momentum for her next attack.

Balban's blazing eyes came to rest on Muraki and I, huddled beneath the cracked dome of our flimsy excuse for a protection spell. I could sense the radiation of anger leaking out from the demon. More so, I could sense its' fear.

_" - My master has charged me to return with you! -" _It reminded us, rising upward until the fog had stretched like an accordion. " - _Alive you must be but you leave me no choice now! I shall truly bathe you in the blood of the other and then I shall rend that vile bird asunder! You must comply! Watch now, as I break your pathetic shield and ensnare you from his arms!"_

The wall of smoke collapsed atop the Impermia like a snake smacking its upper body against the ground. I yelped loudly as the entire shield buckled and raised my hands, concentrating as hard as I could on repairing the cracks that were showing. Balban's essence was entirely wrapped around the bubble I'd created and was preventing my own _mana _from taking effect. I quivered and crouched as low as I could, watching in horror as that rectangular maw started to literally gnash against the nexus. The cracks grew. Balban was _consuming _the very essence of the spell and it fell away in shards from his teeth, like a windowpane of glass. It wouldn't be too long before he broke through.

I could see Muraki's lips moving as though he were mumbling an incantation but whatever he'd been hoping to achieve was interrupted by Suzaku coming to our rescue. At least... I'm sure that's what she had been intending. However, as she circled round and fired Explosion off, Balban sensed the energy displacement and every particle of his intangible body disbanded, leaving the remnants of the shield wide open. My eyes widened.

"NO!" I screamed for all the good it would have done. The pillar of fire heading directly toward us had the potency of flame upon oil. The effect was similar to someone throwing a lit match into a gas station. What remained of the shield had no chance.

Somehow, I didn't hear it - or rather I noticed that unique absence of sound. In light of the fire you would think there would be some initial sound of impact but at first there was nothing. No crackling of flame, no exploding _whoomf _but instead the mammoth kick of pressure that smacked the shield, shattered through and then collapsed against me with the weight of a speeding Mack track. I lost awareness at that point, the very force of the attack enough to knock me out but I was spared the full brunt by the hard, wide body of Kazutaka Muraki throwing me backwards out of the line of fire. He was screaming something, screaming as his body was shunted inwards with bone crushing force and I could see trims of fire lapping at the collar of his shirt. Dreams of angry light threatened to overwhelm the borders of my consciousness but I clung on, my eyes rising up over the alight fence of Muraki's arm and focusing unsteadily on Balban hovering above us like a conquering King. The force of the impact had thrown us back against the wall beneath the cinema screen and somehow, neither of us was dead. Somehow...

A great swirling black light appeared in the center of Balban's chest and through my hazy state I sensed the power of this attack. It was the one he had been saving. Not for me... but for Muraki. My hands grasped his shirtsleeves in loose fists, my body affected by the barest hint of tremulations.

_" - The master shall be angry - " _I heard the creature simper. _" - He would have been delighted if he'd had the both of you to play with. Sacrifices must be made however... and you shall heal in time Tsuzuki. But this, it seems, is the only way to persuade you to come with me. I pray the master forgives me - "_

"Please stop!" I cried, choking as I felt fluid rise in my throat. _Blood. _I was hurt worse than I realized. I knew I had to try and move out of Balban's line of fire but there was no strength in my body, no spiritual energy to back me up. I saw the light increase and Muraki was crouching over me; both arms wrapped around my body and eyes alight.

And then over the crackling of the fire, I distinctly heard someone snap his or her fingers.

Whatever attack had been thrown at Balban was a direct hit, with no defensive shield to cushion the blow. It had struck in the center of its back, Balban's hissing screams pitching burning hot needles into the area behind my eyes as its body collapsed weightless upon the floor like melted toffee. As the demon died, Suzaku cried out once and disappeared in a wash of fire-red feathers, returning to her place in the Acasual space among her fellow guardians. But it had not been she who had fired the attack.

I wanted to look, to see who had saved us but my body was still healing and I couldn't move as it was. I only realized then what Muraki had been doing. Of course I had noticed before but now that the danger had passed, I truly comprehended it.

My back was against the wall and his body completely covered my own. He had landed on top of me and when Balban had been about to fire off its primary attack, he'd pulled me in tight, his arms twined around my body. He would have taken the brunt of the attack, been incinerated whilst I would have been injured at best.

It couldn't just have been about possession. Muraki was a realist. He knew that a direct hit wouldn't have killed me but he'd still tried to protect me. From being _hurt_ not from being killed.

"Muraki..." I whispered, my voice partially obscured by the blood in my throat. I didn't think he would understand me but he nodded against the crook of my neck, adhering to my tentative call. He pulled his face away and I saw how bleary his eyes were, his face blackened like a chimney sweep. One side of his glasses were cracked, the line stretching outward like a spider web. He seemed to be having trouble focusing.

"Mr. Tsuzuki... can you stand?" He asked.

I took a moment to catalog my injuries. A sore head, bruised shoulders, abrasions on both hands from carpet burn and aching ankles. The blood in my mouth was where I'd bitten my tongue. It could have been a lot worse and in my case, it wasn't really anything to worry about. Serious injuries did take longer to heal, particularly if they were magical wounds but all my little bumps and scrapes had already started to repair.

"I think so..." I murmured, still dazed from the blow to my head. My eyes snapped back to focus blearily on his face. "But what about you? You took a major hit from that thing! Are you all right? Is anything broken?"

He chuckled at my concern. "Thank you Mr. Tsuzuki. No, nothing is broken. However, the back of my shirt was incinerated and my skins a little tender as a result. Otherwise I escaped this encounter with less then I expected. We should be thankful."

"Unbelievable..." I uttered, weaving one hand across his shoulder and down to examine the now bare stretch of his back. He nuzzled my fingers as they strayed momentarily at his neck, nursing a few silver strands of hair, frayed at the ends by Suzaku's fire. He was right though. As far as Muraki went, this was one of his least violent encounters. He hissed through his teeth as I trailed my fingers across the reddened flesh. It was still hot from the impact of Explosion but I doubted he would even lose any skin. An attack from Suzaku should have left him with third degree burns! I wondered if it had anything to do with his demon blood, if that somehow cushioned him from the strength of injuries that would under normal circumstances cause substantial damage, even death. It would certainly explain how he was able to recover so quickly after I'd stabbed him.

Someone was clapping.

"Very good Guardians. I'm impressed."

Muraki stood up quickly, pulling me with him but standing in front of me. He was wobbling and his back was red raw but I was pushed between his body and the wall as though I was the one in need of rescuing. I tried to shove my way out from behind him but he pushed me back as easily as if I were a child. I was forced to stand on tippy-toes and look over his shoulder to see who was speaking.

Pandora was crouching on the wall, looking down at us and clapping in what had to have been a sympathetic manner. When I say he was crouching on the wall, I mean to say that he was halfway up the wall of the cinema, sitting sideways, one leg extended and foot pressed directly down upon the red felt, as casual as you like. There was nothing holding him up. He sat there as effortlessly as a fly.

"_Mitkiel sends his best, _what a sales pitch!" He exclaimed, straightening up and then _walking down the wall _until he reached the floor at which point he straightened up and came towards us. His outfit had changed again. This time he was wearing large walking boots, tiny denim shorts with frayed edges and a pint sized white shirt, all the buttons undone and sanctioned around the top half of his body by a knot in the middle. He was showing a lot more skin then Hisoka ever had and ever would I imagined and did so without seeming the least bit bashful. He grinned and raised a finger at us. "Balban _was_ one of the master's most pre-eminent warriors but calling him Mitkiel's best is a bit of a stretch! Still, I was expecting just a _little _bit more out of you then that. Master always says; 'Tsuzuki is the greAAAtest guardian in the Ministry! And Muraki is the only mortal to train himself in the magical crafts!' A self-trained sorcerer they call you! Gosh, some reputation to live up to! Hope you're not embarrassed!"

"What's it to you, brat?" Muraki said with a frown. Regardless of the kids Spiderman routine, the doctor didn't seem intimidated in the slightest. I soon learnt why. "Mr. Tsuzuki. I understand that... your friend had an important assignment and was not able to accompany you but... was it really necessary to bring the boy in his place? After all, it's not appropriate to keep a child up at this hour."

It took me a moment to catch on. "The boy? ... _Oh_ you mean Hisoka!"

The kid frowned. "I'm starting to develop a Hisoka complex." He grunted, tossing his head sidelong in a diva like fashion.

"Well it's your fault for looking so much like him!" I snapped over Muraki's shoulder. The doctor held up a hand to silence me and then turned his attention to the barely clothed young man, who was now spinning around on the toes of his boots.

"Boy... what is your name?" He asked very carefully, the way one might enquire whether or not a woman is expecting before learning that she is not in fact pregnant. The kid gave him the biggest grin I'd ever seen.

"PanDORA!" He practically sang, clutching his hands to his chest and then spinning in a circle, on foot extended like a ballerina. He struck a pose and then pointed at Muraki, both legs spaced shoulder length apart and one hand on his hip. He looked like Watari when he was pretending to be serious. "And YOU, oh one who has not yet learnt the all inspiring truth of a colorful and interesting wardrobe, are Kazutaka Muraki. I'm here tonight to see you!"

"Oh well, lucky me." Muraki said sarcastically. I managed to worm my way out from behind him and faced the boy, leaning down and pressing both hands to my knees in order to stand eye to eye with him. He looked on curiously.

"Ah, Pandora. You spoke with me earlier, right? Remember? In the elevator?"

He smiled and nodded. "Of course, Mr. Tsuzuki! There's nothing wrong with my memory! So, are the two of you enjoying your date?"

"Well we were until you and that Smoke bomb turned up." Muraki grunted, looking over at the sizzling mess that was left of Balban. Pandora nodded understandably.

"I was only meant to come along tonight as a spectator, nothing more. Master will be angry but he will understand why I acted. Balban did not have the authority to kill either of you and he especially was not permitted to harm Mr. Tsuzuki in any way, shape or form." He shrugged, still wearing that strangely content smile. "As you can see I had no choice but to kill him!"

"Quite right." Muraki agreed coming up beside me. He had one hand extended and I could see a small white flame leaping in his palm. "Please feel free to say hello to him on your way down to Hell."

"Muraki, NO!" I yelled grabbing his wrist and wrenching it hard against my body. The flame burnt my skin for a mere second before Muraki extinguished it. His face held no expression but his mouth was drawn down, revealing his agitation. "No killing! You promised me that!"

"Mr. Tsuzuki. Surely you know what this boy is." The doctor reasoned, cocking his head at Pandora who was obliviously spinning in circles again, eyes shut and arms extended like a child in springtime. "He is a demon. The very same as the creature whom just tried to kill us. It is practical now that I finish him here, before he causes us any further trouble. Reasonable, no? You do not leave a tumor and hope that it shall go away on its own. You do not expect it to leave you alone. It will only escalate to something far more dangerous and far more deadly. Do you think that I will hesitate for a second to destroy anything I believe will put you in danger?"

"No." I said, not really thinking about my reply. I knew it was true though. Muraki would tear up nations if he thought they would bring harm unto me. "But I do not want you to kill for me anymore. Not like you used to do. And he... I know that he might not really be a kid but... still..." I could hear my voice tearing up and my eyes started to leak, the tears hot against my skin. "I want - I don't want anyone to die for me anymore! You promised me that much and that's why I'm here... risking everything to be with you. Risking my friendships... the life I have now and even everything I hold dear about my own morality. I want to be at peace with myself for once and - t-to see you with that look on your face! Like you're going to kill someone in front of me again! ... I... I can't take that anymore! Don't you know how close I came to letting myself die after Kyoto? If you want me to be with you, you have to understand this. I can't... I can't keep going through this!"

"Mr. Tsuzuki... Forgive me. I didn't mean..." He started and suddenly I was pressed into his arms, my hands clutching at the torn remnants of his shirt. It was almost falling off of him, due to the fact that the entire back half was gone and my face rested upon a bare patch of skin just below the line of his neck. The flesh was soft and entirely pleasurable. These thoughts made me feel sick all over again, knowing that I was attracted to this man and I was falling all to easily for the tender way he had been treating me. I'd always been a sucker for kindness. And as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders I fell even harder and I sobbed, hating myself for being so goddamn pathetic.

"Then don't you hurt anyone anymore!" I shouted, punching weakly at the expanse of his chest. It was like hitting concrete all over again. He didn't yield an inch and I don't know if my words penetrated much deeper. I think it was my tears that forced him to pay attention to what I was saying. "Don't you make me... _hate _myself for this. I can't handle it! I can't- I can't!" I was punching at his chest and then I was holding his shirt and crying, his hands running tenderly over the small of my back and through my hair. I could hear him making soothing noises, not to silence me but to comfort me as I had once done Hisoka when the man in my arms had killed the girl he cared for. I choked back another sob, my body heaving in his grip and my arms folded around his body, fingernails biting into his sore, red flesh. But he didn't say a word. He just held me, as I'd wanted someone to do for so long.

"Tsuu-zuuki?" Pandora called innocently. I noticed that he pronounced my name with the 'T' that was usually silent and he rounded it off with 'Key' rather than a 'Ki.' He also pronounced the Z as an S. For some reason I thought this was cute. He bounced up to our side, ignoring Muraki's baleful glare and gently gripped my arm with just his fingers. His large blue eyes blinked up at me worriedly.

"Oh, don't cry Mr. Tsuzuki! You don't have to worry anymore, because I'm not here to hurt you, right?"

I sniffed into Muraki's sleeve and Pandora's eyes widened.

"You're still crying! Uh, I don't know what to do! Maybe I can give you something? Yeah! I'll give you a present to make you feel better! Here!" At this he fished a small plush toy out of his shorts pocket and pressed it into my palm. He folded my fingers over it and smiled up at me expectantly. "This is my very special treasure! It was given to me by someone I love, a long long time ago. Yeah, it was a long time ago now, Mr. Tsuzuki! But it's okay; because I've had it for so long myself, see? That means it should be okay to give it to you, right?"

Muraki and I both stared at him and uttered confused nuances. I slowly opened my fingers to look at the toy he had handed me. It was a round, brown bird with yellow eyes and dark brown dashes across its' chest. I think it was meant to be an owl. It was worn from years worth of affection I imagined and one of its eyes were missing. Clearly it was treasured. I felt my eyes tear up again.

"Kid I-"

Pandora waved his arms. "No! NO! No more crying Tsuu-zuuki! I don't have much else to give you! Here, there might be something else..." He fossicked through his other pocket and something emerged. "Ah! Here you can have this too! I like it a lot but I don't really need it and maybe you won't cry anymore if you have it!" He passed me a small handkerchief, folded carefully with the imprint of tulip on it. I took it, not intending to keep it but the design made me hesitate. It looked vaguely familiar.

"Where did you get this?" I asked slowly.

He smiled. "It doesn't matter! Not important, as long as you stop crying, ne? That's what matters! Do you like it?"

I ran my fingers over the flawless material, eyes narrowed as I tried to recall back to where I'd seen something like it before. I couldn't dismiss this niggling little feeling.

"It's so alike..." I murmured. Muraki cocked an eyebrow at me.

"In regards to what?" He asked but Pandora interrupted him, hands clasped beneath his chin.

"Ahhhhhh! I'm so happy Mr. Tsuzuki likes it! You can keep it! I have other treasures I can carry around with me! I'm so happy that you're happy! It makes me feel better inside, it certainly does!" He smiled and glanced up at the movie screen, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Aww... that's a shame. The movies over. I really wanted to see how it would end..."

"Yes..." Muraki murmured thoughtfully as he led me away by the arm, my attention still focused on the handkerchief. "And we were just approaching the climax too..."

Somehow I didn't get the feeling he was talking about the movie.

Muraki led me toward the main exit out of the cinema, the one where most of the other patrons had fled earlier. Pandora flounced along behind us, humming a tune I thought was ringing a few bells. I was suffering from a severe brain fart. I put it down to the fact that I'd just recently had my cranium dashed against a wall.

Muraki stopped and spun around, bringing me with him. We both looked back at Pandora, who was standing just outside the arch of light created from the outside bulbs. I wondered why no one in the cinema had come tear assing in to see why the other patrons fled and guessed that the Public Security section of the Bureau had already arrived and started to clean things up. I'd probably need to give a statement once we'd left the cinema.

Muraki glowered. "You're planning on coming with us, are you?" He asked indignantly.

Pandora's eyes got all big and gooey. "You were... you were going to leave me here, Mr. Muraki?"

Muraki confirmed this by saying absolutely nothing and just looking pissed. Pandora's long bare legs bent in at the knees and he slouched, his bottom lip trembling and his eyes getting rounder and more, if possible, wetter. He looked fit to throw a tantrum.

"After I - _hiccup - _after I saved you from Balban and everything, you were just going to leave me behind?"

"That was the general idea, yes." Muraki said impatiently. He turned as though to leave again. "You should be grateful that Mr. Tsuzuki convinced me not to end your measly little life here and now because I would normally have solved this debacle five minutes ago. Now be on your way. Return to your master."

"He has not called for me..." Pandora simpered, edging just the tiniest bit closer. Muraki's eyebrow twitched. " 'Sides... I only came here tonight to observe how the both of you fair in combat. I had no orders to fight you myself, so you don't have anything to worry about, see?" He laughed. "You understand, right? I will not hurt you! And I don't want to go back to Mitkiel just yet because he will be angry and he's a little hard to deal with when he gets angry. Maybe I can be with the two of you for a while? Because I don't have to fight you yet! So, there's no reason why I can't spend some time with you, yes?"

"So your master is Mitkiel..." I murmured, pausing to cough up some of the blood from my throat and spit it onto the floor. Pandora nodded and then I was able to continue. "Maybe you can tell us what he wants with us?"

Pandora looked confused. He scratched his chin. "With us?" He gazed upwards and scratched his head. "With us?" He blinked. "With _us? _Well, there you have it! 'With us!'"

I didn't get it but Muraki nodded, a saccharine smile tilting his lips to one side.

"The problem is with the question, Mr. Tsuzuki." He explained to me as Pandora made rabbit ears behind his head and wiggled them comically. "You have to be more specific. His master probably instructed him not to answer certain questions regarding his motives but if you can find a way to work _around _the set rules..."

Pandora grinned and raised a finger. "There's ALWAYS a loophole!" He sang joyfully. I gently tucked Pandora's gifts into my pockets and brushed out the sides of my suit before addressing him again. Muraki's arm was still tight around my shoulders, so I wasn't able to move any closer.

"Is there something that... your master wants from Muraki and I, _specifically_?" I enquired. Pandora's eyes were wide and unblinking. Finally he shrugged, his smile hopelessly apologetic.

"Aww... sorry Mr. Tsuu-zuuki! But that is a question I can't answer! I wish I could but I'd get in awful trouble and I was kind of hoping you wouldn't want that!" His face got long and worried for an instant. "You _wouldn't _want that, would you Tsuu-zuuki? I mean, if you did, I could tell you! If you start to cry again I'd tell you because I don't want you to be sad! But master can be so mean to me sometimes! Even when he makes love to me, he can be so mean! So, maybe I won't have to tell you, ne? Would that be okay! It won't make you sad right!"

"Oh for crying out loud, would you shut up kid?" Muraki growled rubbing at his forehead. "You're giving me a headache."

Pandora blanched. "I'm sorry! Was I bad?"

My mind was still back at what he said and I all but missed this short exchange. "Your master makes love to you?"

He nodded and Muraki sniffed, regarding him with a mocking expression.

"I see. So you're a _demon's whore_," He spat contemptuously. Pandora's face grew tight. "You're a _pet. _Figures... a child like you would sell his soul all for the chance to be a demon's dog."

Pandora seemed to turn at these words and I watched the subtle transformation as his face became carnal, both eyes a sneering concoction of defensive purpose and his voice a sickly sweet undertone, derived from irony but possessing not the least hint of denial. He would not voice objection to Muraki's statement but was not going to be beaten down by it either, is how I understood it.

"Isn't that a little hypocritical, Kazu?" He hissed and I was surprised by the personal use of a nickname. I felt Muraki go tense at my side, his fingers biting into the skin of my shoulder. "Here after all, you are taming a pet all your very own, there's no difference between you and Mitkiel. Don't you see that?"

Muraki's eyes were wide and it scared me to see that kind of fear on his face. "Why did you use that name?"

"Do you see it yet Muraki?"

"Why did you use that name!"

Pandora snickered. "Oh, I know more about you than a mere nickname might entail, Kazutaka. You must see. You must understand that sixteen years is nothing. Time means nothing to the dead. Time means nothing to the _damned, _my rosebud."

Muraki backed up a step and what little blood was in his face drained away. He was so pallid he was ghost like.

"Muraki?" I called.

A switch was thrown in Pandora and he suddenly jerked up out of the rigid stance he had placed himself in, his actions hoppy and boisterous again. "Whoo... sorry about that!" He giggled, hands pressed to his knees. "Sometimes I just kind of zone out like that! Anyway, maybe we should continue this conversation elsewhere, what say you?"

"Stay the hell away from us." Muraki hissed. If he was a rattlesnake his warning couldn't be anymore clear.

Pandora straightened up and cocked his head to the side, inquisitive and concerned.

"Oh, Muu-raa-ki! What's wrong?" He also pronounced Muraki's name with a drawl and a high pitch that sounded as 'Key' rather than 'Ki.' The 'Mu' came out as 'Moo.' I don't know why this struck a cord in me but it was familiar somehow. I had once known someone who spoke people's names in that identical cutesy manner, so childlike and so nurturing at the same time. "You don't... you don't like me... do you?" He looked ready to cry and he was actually biting his lower lip, shoulders hunched up and hands clasped over his chin. I felt a pang of compassion and I moved as though to go to him but Muraki tugged me away roughly and pulled me toward the door.

"Don't go near him." He ordered as we made our way outside, the light hurting my eyes and causing my head to throb. "Just trust me on this. He's dangerous."

Says the ex-sociopath.

Pandora continued to stare after us solemnly and I kept expecting him to burst out crying. He wasn't one to disappoint and the second we had put one foot outside the door he came running after us like a lost child in the supermarket, tears running down his face.

"Mr. Tsuu-zuuki! Mr. Muu-raa-ki! Please wait!" He wailed arms outstretched as though he were going to hug us both. I turned to face him and noticed something just the smallest bit disconcerting.

"Watch it kid!" I yelled as Balban rose up from behind him, eyes a roaring cosmos of hatred and malice. Pandora cast a glance over his shoulder and froze for a moment before realizing that it probably wasn't the best idea and began backing towards the exit. He was so close I could see his body trembling.

_" - YOU BACK STABBING SWINE! -" _Balban roared and two of its largest teeth extended to the point that it looked like some bad movie vampire. Pandora whimpered and made another dash towards the exit doors.

They slammed shut right in his face.

Well, they at least tried to. They were hindered somewhat by the fact that I'd grabbed a hold of the inside seal at the last second and was pulling it toward me with all my might. The magical strength that was being exerted on them was unbelievable! Balban must have been doing it but it didn't seem feasible when he was so weak and his concentrated was already divided.

There was about a foot wide gap left when Pandora shoved his arms through. It was all I could see of him. His hands were grasping and clutching at the bar on the other door, trying to get a hold or trying to get it open I couldn't tell. When he failed at doing that however, the hands started clawing at my wrists, leaving long bloodied scratches across my already scarred flesh. I fought back the revulsion, the burgeoning desire to smack those obtrusive hands away and used all my strength to hold that door open. The force pulling against me was so strong! I could feel my feet sliding across the carpet as the door moved inch-by-inch inward, shortening the gap. Soon there wouldn't even be room for Pandora's hands.

"TSUU-ZUUKI!" Pandora wailed and the movements of the hands and arms became even more frantic. Balban must have been getting closer. "HELP ME, PLEASE!"

"MURAKI!" I screamed over my shoulder. "Help me get this door open! Quick!"

He just crossed his arms and regarded me carelessly.

"Muraki?" I said uncertainly.

"I am not going to help that... _thing _in there." He spat, fingers tightening on the inside sleeves of his shirt. It fell down even further revealing another patch of creamy skin. The door slid shut another inch at my distraction and Pandora's screams became even louder.

"MURAKI!" I could feel sweat popping out on my forehead from the effort of pulling on the door. It was coming so close to cutting Pandora's arms off at the elbow. "You- you promised! You promised me! I CAN'T LET ANYONE DIE IN FRONT OF ME! Not anymore do you understand me!"

Something flashed across his normal eye. Something passed through him. Something rocked him.

"You help me!" I roared, the tendons in my arms straining from the pressure. "You help me, or I'll never forgive you! I don't CARE what you have against that kid in there but I want him alive to figure it out!"

He unfolded his arms but hesitated. My patience was wearing thin. I thought of how tender he had been before, when he'd kissed the scars on my wrist and that single tear that fell down his cheek. Could it all have been an act? Most likely. But he would want to keep that act up and that meant he would need to do as I said. I had that much power over him at least.

"Muraki!"

He shook himself out of whatever trance he had been in and moved to my side.

"Shit." He growled, aligning his own hands on the door above my own. I watched the tension escalate on his face as he pulled the door towards him with all his might. It slowly but surely edged in our direction but it wasn't enough. Pandora's hands thrashed like a fish on a hook, his sobs altogether too much like a child who'd just had a nightmare. The fact that I couldn't just tear the door away and carry him away was killing me. My eyes stung as they teared up and my stomach bunched into a tangle as the fear injected an overdose of adrenaline into my system. I was so afraid for that boy, that boy who was so innocent and treated me so sweetly.

"TSUU-ZUUKI!" He screamed and I felt one of those hands lash around my wrist. I looked down and through the dark crevice I saw two big blue eyes peer out at me. They were shining with tears and wisps of smoke were curling around them from Balban's body. I could feel the fingers trembling around my watchband.

"_No... I don't wanna die!_"

I screamed and fell back from the door as a great line of blood spurted out from the gap, coating Muraki and I from face to chest. Pandora was screaming and crying for me as the door slammed shut and peals of smoke leaked out through the spaces underneath and through the gaps surrounding it. Blood leaked down the painted blue wood, dripping a pattern across the carpet and I was banging my fist on the doors, yanking the handles and calling out for the boy as his sobs and screams faded away to nothing. In my heart I knew that he was already dead.

But I still tried to get to him. I scratched and punched and kicked the door until I had bruised every inch of my body and when Muraki scooped me up and carried me away, I fought against him too, finally collapsing into his warm body void of strength and crying myself to sleep before I even had a chance to speak with the Public Security officials.

When Muraki put me in the car to take me back to his place I revived long enough to touch the handkerchief in my pocket. The one with the embroided tulip.

I knew then where I had seen it.

My sister had made it for me. Almost a century ago, when I was a child and she was the only friend I ever had.

She had made it for me and I had placed it in her hands before the lid of her coffin was closed for the last time and she was lowered into the cold earth.

And the words Pandora had spoken, the second before Balban had killed him. The words that had made me scream.

They had been _her _words too. She was the one who had spoken them...

... when _I _had killed her.

**A/N:**

**Watari: **(Sniffles and blows his nose on the handkerchief mentioned above) That was so sad!

**Tsuzuki: **WATARI! (Snatches back handkerchief and examines it) EW! Now I'll have to go and wash it in NapiSam!

**Watari: **Sorry! (Shrugs apologetically and then turns to readers.) Ooh readers, did you notice? There was a DEMON in this chapter! I mean, it was kind of hard not to notice since he killed Pandora and all but still, just thought I'd mention it because demons are YAY cool! (Love heart eyes)

**Oriya: **I swear... he loves demons more than he loves me. Why don't you just go and marry a demon if you love them so much?

**Watari: **Ori! Demon's are indeed wonderful but none of them look nearly as good as you naked!

**Oriya: **(Looks ready to explode)

**Tsuzuki: **(Confused.) How would Watari know what demons look like naked anyway?

**Muraki: **Demons are always naked Mr. Tsuzuki. They don't wear clothing.

(Saagatanus appears wearing Oriya's frilly pink dress)

**All: **(Stare)

**Muraki: **... Is it too late to take back what I said?

**Watari: **(Blinks at Saagatanus and then turns to readers) Well, wasn't that a nice chapter reviewers? Now, time for a quick summary of the next chapter!

**Oriya: **(Reading from the script) Okay... in the next chapter Muraki and Tsuzuki head to Muraki's evil gothic haunted mansion type place for a sumptuous dinner and possible lemon scene? (Shudders) Eww... as if you would have sex with Muraki...

**NaPap: **(Shows Oriya lemons where he was paired with Muraki.)

**Oriya: **(Blushes) I cannot be held responsible to that! As God as my witness, I did not have sexual relations with that doctor!

**Watari: **A-_hem._

**Oriya: **Oh... my bad. (Clears throat) As God as my witness, I did not have sexual relations with _that _doctor - (Points at Muraki) - but I did have sexual relations with _that _doctor. (Points to Watari.)

**Muraki: **Who hasn't?

**Watari: **Oh, you're a nice one to talk! You're paired up with just as many people as I am, so shut up LOVERGIRL!

**Muraki: **(Twitches and cracks a tooth) Ergh!

**Tsuzuki: **(Sweatdrops) They're at it again...

**Oriya: **Let's just leave them to it and take 'em out for ice cream later. (Waves to readers) Bye-bye now, ya'll! Please leave lots of nice reviews; the more the merrier as they say! Looking forward to you all joining us next time on another splendiferous adventure in Dark Adaptation!

**Watari: **YAY! Now we can go and watch the Muraki music video!

**Muraki: **NO WE CAN BLOODY NOT! (Ends up sulking in corner whilst everyone goes off to watch the AMV)


	11. Muraki: The Gift of Death

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

_**Chapter title: The Gift of Death Part 1**_

**DISCLAIMER:** I _do _own Descendant's of Darkness and I do accept bribes. Specifically in the form of cookies, expensive dinners and fanart. And all fanfiction authors who wish to write about Descendant's of Darkness, or as the Japanese folks call it, Yami no something or rather, must pay a 'Writing fanfiction fee' to me so that I don't sue them for that 'All rights reserved rubbish.' (Gets tapped on shoulder by Madman folk) Oh my, I think this be the beginning of a long and tedious lawsuit…

**Note: **Well I certainly received a hearty response for the last chapter! Twenty-seven reviews! And just think, I was complaining about not being able to get twenty reviews per chappie, last update! Whoohoo!

**VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: **I have fanart! Tsuzuki and Bakayaro Maniac have drawn fanart for Dark Adaptation! Hooray! (Faints) If you would like to see their artwork, you can find it by logging into their profile pages and using the links that you find there! Thanks to Bakayaro Maniac, you can finally see what Pandora looks like! Hooray! Oh and a fair **warning – This is a very, very, very, _very loooo-oooong _chapter. As a result of the chapters' length, I've had no choice but to cut it in two. Don't worry though. Both parts will be posted together. Feel free to review each part separately, or to review both parts as a whole. That being said, enjoy the very long chapter!**

Muraki

I managed to make it past the Public Security clean up crew with Mr. Tsuzuki swaddled in my arms like a newborn baby, his tousled head of hair pressed to the wall of my chest, his scraped and bloodied hands clutching at the frayed seams of my shirt. He'd sobbed from the moment we'd left the scene of Pandora's death, until the second we passed through the doorway and made it out to the car park. He fell silent then. Violet stained eyes wide open and one fingertip pressed into the space between his upper and lower rows of teeth.

He was a most difficult creature to understand. The beautiful immortal with the mortal yearning for life and the driven compulsion to protect those he thought needed his protection. Let's face it; anyone who came within three feet of Mr. Tsuzuki needed his protection, as long as they batted their eyes the right way.

His sympathy for that boy was a difficult process to entertain however. At least to me. From what I gathered, based on their prior conversation, they had only been acquainted for some short time, which didn't measure up to the level of grief Tsuzuki was exhibiting. He was far too casual with his emotions, investing his heart into the transitory, temporary relationships of people whom he came into contact with; either through work, or through his day to day mandatory activities. To a creature whose heart was so guarded, he allowed an alarming amount of debilitating human emotion to skewer its' way inside. The capacity to love and accommodate a person in such a limited space of time may have been seen as an admirable quality amongst other mortals but I was poised on the very brink of loving and hating this characteristic. Ultimately, I suppose I should have appreciated this apparent weakness and exploited it, in order to draw him to me all the more effectively but in regards to other individuals, such as this clandestine Pandora, I was finding it nothing more than a bothersome hindrance. Tsuzuki's grief was impenetrable. I attempted again and again to instigate some form of communication between us but he was closed off to me and to everything that was happening around us. His beautiful eyes, normally so vivacious and intense, were suspended in a place that was beyond my ability to enter. A dark, numb void were there was nothing but the overwhelming despair and the moist cut of his tears as they continued to flow, regardless of the lapse in his verbalization. It was as though he entered into an otherworld in the space between the bloodied cinema door and the night air. A place that sedated him so thoroughly, so intensely, you might have mistaken the man to be intoxicated.

This level of mourning was beyond my comprehension. I hadn't even cried that passionately at the death of my parents. The closest I had even come to breaching that unattainable degree of grief, was the night Saki had taken me and cast the curse upon my body.

_The boy had called me Rosebud… that was Saki's name for me._

_How did he know…?_

I didn't think too deeply about it. Such thoughts were uncharacteristically morbid of me and any physician knows when to draw that emotional line between personal feelings. I'd voided that contract only months ago and had very nearly destroyed myself as a result of my pathetic, debilitating desire for vengeance. My wrath incinerated that fine line, ignited the veil I had drawn over my heart since that regretful day sixteen years ago. I'd allowed the darkest and most sinful of emotions to overrule my common sense and for that I'd been punished accordingly.

It had been three months since I had killed. I'd never deprived my body of the need for the absorption of mortal essence for such an extensive period of time. In a peculiar way, it felt as though I'd starved myself of a bodily necessity, such as food or water. The immaterial side of me was shriveling and withering. Starving and screaming to be quenched. It was excruciating, the way it tore at my essence constantly, grating at my nerve endings, a pain that could be acutely described as rubbing shards of glass into my blood so that every beat of my heart sent my body reeling into a series of silent agonizing screams. The strain was starting to show. Not so much on my material form, which was capable of surviving independently, much like any other mortal. The immaterial _mana _was a portion of myself that I'd expanded only out of the need to restrain Saki's spell upon me and then as a tool to exact my revenge, so that I might finally slay him with my own hands. And finally be free of his wicked act, his sixteen-year stain for good. But the _mana _had only ever been an addition to my essence, not a necessity. I had surmised that with Tsuzuki by my side, assisting me, albeit reluctantly in barring the curse, I would be able to maintain it, at least until I had broken the guardian. I'd expected my magical abilities to become depleted as a result but had been shocked by the degree to which they had eroded already. In the cinema, I'd barely been able to lift a finger to assist Tsuzuki and as much as I hated to admit it, if it had not been for the child Pandora, I may very well have ended this evening as a pile of dust beneath the cinema screen.

I was terribly affronted by this knowledge. My thoughts troubled. If we were to be attacked again by any demon associated with this… Mitkiel, it was very unlikely that I would be capable of effectively confronting the adversary. My powers were bound to get weaker by the day. They had already failed me in this circumstance and the child had mentioned that the demon Balban was not his masters' greatest warrior. How could I be expected to protect my beloved, if my magical strength was draining away little by little? Though I knew some basic forms of self-defense, I had no natural material gifts such as Oriya and could in no way face off with a guardian, much less a demon, in the state I was in.

Though were I to march off into the night and slice down an innocent, Tsuzuki would most likely take offense. And he was in no state right then to be dealing with anything, much let alone another murder at my fingertips. He had begged me not to take Pandora's life and I had listened. I had listened because of the emotion in his voice, how he pleaded with me so I would not betray his own morals for choosing to be with me.

It was important that I resolved this issue as fastidiously as possible, so that I might be prepared the next time an attack took place. However, I hadn't ever considered alternatives to quench the _mana _within me. I wasn't sure there was an alternative to slaying the mortal body and then draining the essence of the soul as it fled the deceased shell. I was a vampire in that sense; a psychic sponge and it was a very particular method I had perfected over the years, in order to maintain and strengthen my immaterial essence. But my most pressing desire at hand was to keep Tsuzuki at my side and he would not stay with me if I did not prove resilient to the strain of the curse. His presence helped somewhat but in light of this little… interference I would need to be strong, so that these demons would resist encroaching on what I had so boldly labeled as my own.

Ah, dilemma's, dilemma's, dilemma's… A day in the life of Kazutaka Muraki.

I made my way carefully to the car; trying to move as smoothly as possible less I wake the now sleeping guardian. He had passed out at some point and I couldn't say that I was altogether disappointed by this development. The man had kicked and slapped and scratched and screamed when I'd picked him up and moved him away from the theater door, before then acquiring that listless vapid zombie like stare near the front entrance of the cinema. I couldn't bear to see him in either state. It was disconcerting. Not to mention what the initial tantrum had cost my already thoroughly abused body.

He made a small noise, perhaps a whimper; perhaps the wall of my ripped shirt swallowed a whispered word that I wasn't able to catch as it fell. His face nuzzled hesitantly against the material as I stopped by the passenger side of the car and gently bent my knee's to bring him closer to the ground. He made a noise of protest as I slowly slid my arm out from underneath his thighs, prompting him to stand on his own for a moment whilst my other arm continued to support him around his waist. He shook his head, eyes closed and face burying deeper and deeper into my shirt as he murmured demure complaints and tried to fit his legs across my arm again.

"No… don't let me go…" I managed to decipher from the mostly illegible garble. I could feel his weight shifting back against my body as he tried to vault off of his feet, in a ditch attempt to force me to catch him. I countered him by bending my knee's again, wrapping my arm around his calf muscles and then gently placing his feet back on the cement. He groaned. "Pick me up… pick me up…"

"Mr. Tsuzuki, I need to get the keys out of my pocket," I explained, wrapping my arm around him tightly as I searched through my pants for the keys. He moaned again as though nauseous and sank against me, forcing me to tighten my hold less he fall flat on his face. "I need you to stand on your own for a moment. Be strong. I will put you in the car once I have it open."

He looked like he wanted to cry again but didn't have the energy. Instead, I found his arms wrapped around my chest and aching back, squeezing on so tightly I wondered if the ground beneath our feet was attempting to suck him down. It wasn't difficult to see that witnessing the death of what he perceived to be an innocent person before his own eyes, had caused Tsuzuki to take temporary leave of his senses. Under normal circumstances he would be loath to hold me so dependently, to beg me to pick him up and carry him like a child. Which wasn't to say that I didn't enjoy the attention. Tsuzuki's slight body weight made the task of carrying him a pleasant one despite my injuries and having his arms around me, his voice inquiring my attention so desperately, was exquisite. But there was no true satisfaction to be derived from it. For what effort had I gone to, in order to gain such a splendid reward? There had been nothing extended on my behalf. I'd merely fought to protect my beloved, which had been a dismal attempt at best. This attention I was receiving from Tsuzuki and the attention he suddenly desired from me in return was as a result of something that had intruded upon our evening and interrupted my attempt to seduce him.

Tsuzuki had wanted me at that moment. He'd arched to my touch. He'd been breathing deeply, face flushed and lips parted with just the hint of a pink tongue peeking through at the very corner. We had been in each other's power, like we had been in the car before we had arrived at the cinema. I seduced by him and he seduced by me.

For the first time, since the moment I had laid these contradictory eyes on him, I'd gained the guardian's attraction and inspired a lust in him I'd never before had the honor to witness. Even now, so weak and tired in my arms, I desired nothing more than to swing open the back door of the car, lay him down and devour every mere inch of his perfect, delicious body. Knowing that I had achieved that passion from him that so impeccably matched my own, this evening could very well have ended with the two of us making love; the promise of a cumbersome yet erotic promise of tangling limbs, heated breaths and the sacrificial offering of a thousand kisses had consumed all my thoughts from the moment he'd arrived at my doorstep this evening. I had planned to make him mine that night.

And now… a demon who had not the courtesy to turn up itself, had occupied all of Tsuzuki's thoughts by sending one of its' minions after us and killing its' pet which had the undeniable nerve to look like that boy.

How dare it. How dare it ensnare my beloved's mind away from me. After all the effort I have put into this, it dare waste my time further?

Anger gnawed at my nerves like steel fangs, distracting to the point that I dropped the car keys twice before I managed to lift them up and press the button to unlock the doors. As soon as I heard the locks part, I put the keys away, plucked the door open and helped Tsuzuki climb into the passenger seat. His eyes were bleary as though he had no idea where he was. I snapped my fingers in front of his face, gaining his attention more swiftly then I had expected. His purple eyes shone with tears and my anger wavered momentarily at the lost, unintelligible expression. I rested my fingertips gently against the rise of his cheek and then curled them underneath the middle joint so that I could stroke him with the smooth, cool curve of my fingernails. His eyes hesitated every time my own made contact with his and as I conducted this minor act of sympathy, I watched his hands stray into his trouser pocket and touch the two small "gifts" the child had given him. His eyes teared up again as they glanced downward and he sobbed suddenly as though struck by a sudden thought. After hearing Mr. Tsuzuki's prior narration, I understand now that he had been thinking of his sister and the uncanny similarity between the handkerchief that child had given him and the one she had made for him. The one Tsuzuki had placed in his sisters' hands before her body had been commemorated to the earth. At the time however, I was not privy to this information and was merely frustrated. Frustrated and feeling quite territorial over Tsuzuki. Internally enraged that another demon had dared to make my lover feel this way. Tsuzuki was _mine_. It was my right alone to injure him, not that of a demon or a mortal or even a guardian. Everything flared up inside of me like an emotional welt. It was as though someone had walked right up to me and slapped me right in the face and then done the exact same thing to my Tsuzuki, daring me to stop them. Only to fade away before I had the chance.

"Forgive me," I whispered to him, not altogether too concerned with whether he was likely to forgive me or not. I knew that there were a great number of instances that Tsuzuki wasn't likely to forgive or forget; yet regardless he came to me knowing all that I had done. If he were to hold a grudge over this, then it would be just one more notch in my arm, figuratively speaking. "I apologize that I… that I hesitated when it came to helping that boy."

I half expected him to strike me but I guess the events of the evening had finally worn him done. It was a shock to me when the beautiful, weary guardian shook his head and gently placed his palm on my face, brushing aside the fall of hair that hid my irregular eye from sight. He raised his fingers and placed them gently over that eye, his fingertips supported on the rise of my brow, creating a sort of cage across my sight. Tsuzuki watched me carefully and after a moment, moved his hand down so that his fingers brushed over the scarring surrounding the socket, caressing the ugly healed skin in the tender manner I had kissed the old wounds on his wrist. It was a surprising move and I halted my breathing, so as not to intrude on anything in those perfect fleeting seconds.

When his fingers had strayed long enough, he removed them from my face and bent his own forward, pressing a kiss against the scarring. So soft and gentle was the action, that I shut my eyes and allowed myself ample time in which to fully enjoy the sensation. This tentative affection he had bestowed upon me moved beyond physical infatuation. It possessed not the reeking scent of fanciful lust, such as we had shared in the cinema only minutes ago and it did not originate from the disorientation Tsuzuki was currently being swept within the throes of.

He had a feeling for me beyond that of physical attraction. He expected something of me beyond the touch of skin and the lips that spilt passion between his own.

Adoration… nothing more than a by-product of one's infatuation. An illusion. Delusional fantasies, whimsical fairytales of no substance that were entertained by an energetic mind scribbled out in a hundred thousand novels in a hundred thousand homes all over the world.

Love. Oh yes, what a tangled web we weave indeed. Should I have ever used those words so casually when referring to my physically flawless possession? To say that he was the one that I loved, to speak those very words to him; that I may have had no choice but to destroy him because I loved him so much. Oh, the irony of it all. That I had but insinuated that he was far too lenient when it came to flouting his emotions, to accepting the faces and hearts of a dozen strangers into his heart in so little time. To allow oneself to indulge so freely in these risky, emotional dalliances entails that ultimately we shall be rewarded in a form most wondrous and strange. To receive in turn our deception, only for it to be bestowed upon us as a truth. My sacred, darling Tsuzuki, you must understand how I wanted you to die so that I might be free of my disgusting affliction. My yearning for you. My desire that now moved beyond physical attraction, beyond revenge, beyond the piercing dramatic gleam in your eyes and the intense powerful expressions on your face when I would taunt and dare you to bar me from all manner of mischief and murder.

Most could not understand how I could love him, if I was prepared to transplant Saki's body to his, ultimately killing him in order to exact vengeance that had long been denied to me. I wouldn't expect anyone, be they simpleton or genius, to wrap their head around my unique motive and how I could maintain this infatuation for the guardian whilst I had always intended to kill him.

It is simpler then you would think. What a sickening contradiction I am; denying that love has any place in human attraction whilst ever so slowly a feeling formed for this man over the slow course of a year; a feeling so strong and so intensely dominating in my thoughts that they strayed far from the physical realm of possibility, in which I firmly believed the root of all attraction was deeply entrenched. The only comparable emotion I had was my growing anticipation for revenge. Which made me realize exactly why I had fallen in love with Asato Tsuzuki in the first place. He had given me an incredible gift, a chance to fulfill a deed that had occupied my mind day and night since the brutal murder of my parents. Through Tsuzuki I would finally have my revenge.

How could I not have loved him for that? How could I ever repay him for such a gift? The only gift I could ever give to my beloved in return, was, I figured, the execution of my plan in which Tsuzuki would die along with Saki. The sorrow surmounting the guardian's soul was so great, so heavy. It smothered him no matter how hard he tried to keep that smile shining day in, day out. The strain it put on him and the tears in his eyes, always just below the surface, which would rise from the merest pinprick of sadness or disappointment. He passed through each day like a shadow, moving in and out of the Ministry, between the lives of those he had sworn to protect but never finding a place to exist, where he could be at peace with himself.

The scars on his wrist told it all. He had wanted to die but his cruel immaculate body saw to it that this would never happen. And so, my beloved was forced into the cruelest existence imaginable. He'd finally killed himself but the grief of his death brought him back as a Guardian, forcing him into an existence he did not want, where he felt as though he was not wanted in the first place. It was disgusting. In a sense, he had been raped by existence in much the same way I had been raped by Saki. We'd been forced and marked, traumatized by the situation we'd hoped never to confront again. But we couldn't shake it off. It was with us for all eternity.

I wanted to give him the one gift that no one dared offer him. The gift that was the kindest to offer to a tormented soul, but would be seen as unthinkable in the eyes of his companions, entertaining their close minded notions of self-righteous nobility. Only a murderer like myself would dare give Tsuzuki the gift of death.

We were silent together for a very long time. If I were to characterize silence in any particular way, I would classify this particular hiatus into two distinctly separate categories. Tsuzuki's troubled and mine meditative. My legs were getting tired from crouching but I didn't say anything, not wanting to ruin the peace we'd established between one another that was thought to be an impossibility until this moment had proved it wrong. Tsuzuki hesitantly raised his hand and cupped the back of my head and pulled me close awkwardly. I say awkwardly because of the position I was sitting in, not because of any hesitation on his own behalf. I shuffled closer and allowed him to press my face into his chest, my mouth tantalizingly close to the v-shaped patch of flesh outlined by the cut of his most becoming suit. A part of me was still pleased by his attire. It was only a shame that I hadn't had more time in which to fully appreciate it.

"It's all right." He said in regards to my apology. I could feel his hand stroking through my hair, occasionally pausing to toy with a few frizzled strands bequeathed as a parting gift from my old friend Suzaku. His other hand was tentatively placed on the center of my scorched back, not moving in any particular pattern. Just touching. "I guess there really was nothing either of us could have done… and I shouldn't expect you to leap to just anyone's protection."

I lifted my head a little from the warm alcove made by his chest and arms. "Mr. Tsuzuki… what you must understand is-''

"I understand," He said effectively cutting me off and coaxing my head back against his body again. I felt him rest his cheek atop my hair and he hefted a very deep, sad sigh. It was the loneliest sound I had ever heard. "I'm not accusing you of anything Muraki. That's just the reality of it and I need to start accepting that if I'm ever going to understand you completely. Some things about you I don't want to understand but this is something that I _do _want to figure out. Because you were prepared to die to protect me in there Muraki. Is it just me alone? And if so, why?"

I swallowed heavily and pulled away from the comforting heat of his body, clasping the tops of his arms between my hands and looking him square in the eyes. His face was still stained in places from Pandora's blood, though he had attempted to scrub most of it away. Up until that point I had forgotten that the little brat had bled on us before his death. My face probably looked like a Picasso.

"You alone." I assured him, rubbing my thumb in circles against the bicep muscle, trying to work away the tension I felt there. He was always so stiff in my presence, though unfortunately not always in the way that it mattered.

Tsuzuki did not seem flattered by this revelation. His eyes shattered, as though someone had just shot a bullet through a glass window and his loose fists balled clumps of my ruined shirt, tugging at it so insistently that what remained of my tie fell away.

"How could you say a thing like that? You barely know me and yet you are bold enough to declare that you would protect me and no other?" His pretty face was scrunched up with disbelief. "That's… awful! What about Oriya? You've known him since high school and he's protected your butt for years when most people would just tell you to take a hike! Are you saying you wouldn't return the favor?"

"I would most certainly return the favor on the off chance Oriya wakes up and decides to go on a homicidal killing spree," I stated, lifting one hand up to wipe at the drying blood on Tsuzuki's cheek. He allowed me to do so but shifted a little uncomfortably when I cupped his chin in my hand and held his face in my direct sight, so that he could not evade me. "But Oriya is a special case. He wouldn't expect anyone to die for him, let alone me. He is first and foremost noble and no one would dare rob him of his right to die."

Tsuzuki now appeared disgusted. "Well, isn't that sweet and poetic?"

I ignored the sarcasm. "My love… you cannot afford to be this naïve anymore. Did I not tell you only an hour ago that I am more demon than human? Surely you have not forgotten already? And demon's are not like humans. Allegiances are brief and not entirely dependable. Oriya is a good man and I trust him; he is the exception I make when it comes to friendships. And you… you are _different._"

He heard the slant I'd placed on the words and he wasn't pleased. His eyes glowed in the moonlight.

"_Different?_"

I ran my hand down his face in a straight line, my fingers pausing just beneath those glowing purple orbs. I could practically feel the heat of his rage emanating out from that intense piercing shine.

"Different." I repeated.

That had been the final straw. For lack of a better definition; he lost it.

I dodged out of the way quickly as he dove at me, half expecting a repeat kicking, slapping, screaming, tantrum-throwing performance just like earlier. But Tsuzuki didn't attack me. At least not right away. He staggered to his feet, suddenly keeling in the middle and retching as though he were about to be sick. When he failed to produce any substance at all, his fiery gaze turned back on me and in a flash his fists were ascending one after the other across the wall of my chest. He was trying to reach my face but I kept him just out of reach by moving backward slowly and knocking his fists astray from their course whenever they came that little bit too close. The anger on his face was so encompassing it was divine. My body starting reacting in a way I knew was inappropriate in this particular situation.

"So you'll protect me because I'm a goddamn _freak?_" He screeched, driving his left fist so hard into my pectoral that he actually managed to knock me off balance for a moment. I grunted as I righted myself and managed to slap away the second jab that would have otherwise connected with my lip. "You _fucking BASTARD!_ ALL YOU SEE WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME IS A DEMON! A MONSTER! I despise you, do you hear me? I hate you with all my heart! Why don't you ever see a human being when you look at me? Why don't you just grab a nice handful of rocks and start throwing them at me and calling me names!"

_What the?_ "Mr. Tsuzuki…? Where on earth is this stemming from?"

It was as though he never even heard my words. He was raging at a past, at people and actions exacted on him long ago but were now beyond his reach. But I wasn't. So I would hear him.

"There's no shame in just admitting it Muraki! Why not? No one else felt any guilt over stoning the monster! '_Hey! Let's all go throw rocks at the freak!' _they'd say and then they'd chase me down until I thought I would die from… being so… tired…" He was sobbing now, his fists falling against my chest like the patter of raindrops on a tin roof. "Do you know what it does to you Muraki? Do you have any idea how it wears you down? I was like a rock that the ocean beat against for years on end, just withering away underneath the never ending tide of name calling and abuse…I was only a kid… and I didn't understand why they hated me and picked on me, just because of my eyes… because I was different from everyone else… so… you should just beat me up like they all did…"

There was a light drizzle of rain coming down from the sky. It wasn't the dramatic downpour one would almost expect in this situation but rather the steady ceaseless caress of velvet moisture, which would leave your hair a flyaway mess and your clothes wet and heavy, though you could barely feel the damage it was affording you at the time. Somehow I found this more appropriate.

Tsuzuki's eyes were red from crying and he was standing very close to me, his gaze directed somewhere far off to his left. For a while we just stood there the two of us. We stood together in the drizzle and let the beads form their tiny tears on the strands of our hair. I wanted to reach out and hold him but understood all too well that I was in a precarious compromise right now with my chosen mate. And for the first time in a long time, I didn't have the words needed to salvage the situation. I wasn't sure what needed to be said, what he wanted to hear from me. I almost wished I could have peeked into his mind and read the underlying emotions that he was experiencing right now, just so I would know what he wanted from me.

Had I not told him myself that relationships were intended to be spontaneous however? Perhaps there wasn't a right thing to say in this situation. All I could say to him was the truth.

"Fool." I whispered down at him.

I willed him to look into my eyes, to hear me and he was ever so obedient. His head snapped up in shock, his lovely sculptured lips twisted into an irregular line, the bottom lip sucked in tight between the upper and lower rows of teeth.

"What?" He exclaimed.

"Fool," I repeated but not unkindly. I laced my voice with so much softness it may as well have been a silk sheathe. "Foolish, my love. To think that I look on you as a monster."

Tsuzuki's brows furrowed. "You were ever so quick to label me as one three months ago, just before you kissed me and restored my cursed memories. Why should I not make that assumption? You've always been rather concise in reminding me of what a cold, empty, heartless bastard you are."

"Because I am the monster, beloved. I told you that I am more demon and that _you _are more human. By calling you a monster, I wanted you to admit that demon half of yourself into existence. Not to dismiss it. You had no idea what you were before I came along."

"I could have happily remained ignorant."

"Could you?" I asked.

Another silence. I had caught him out in a lie and he wasn't thrilled over it either. But, there appeared to be something gratifying in his defeat and not just to me either. His eyes were losing some of their angry intensity but they weren't returning to their bleak desolation either. He seemed to be taking a step back into reality.

"You are half demon, my love." I told him, cupping his angular chin in between my thumb and index finger, raising his eyes to meet my own again. The crack across my glasses was becoming irritating, so I pulled them away with my free hand and pitched them into the front seat of the car, intending to retrieve them later. Much like my _mana _essence however, the glasses were not a necessity. I could see perfectly fine without them. "But you are also half human. That is the physical anatomical truth, Mr. Tsuzuki. I cannot tell you that you are one more than the other. All I can say is that spiritually, emotionally, you _are _more human then you are demon. There is nothing wrong with that. It doesn't make you a freak. I was born the same way and though I did not face the discrimination that you did, I allowed myself to descend into the demonic half of my being, in order to shield my soul from painful emotions. You and I are the ultimate contradiction, Mr. Tsuzuki. That is why I would die for you and no one else. Different, not because of what you are, but because of who you are to me. Don't misunderstand. You are different because you and I are the same. The same creatures, walking two different paths that either of us could have taken. I need you to teach me all that you have learnt by walking down that path, Mr. Tsuzuki. And I can teach you what I have learnt. Maybe that way, by coming together, we can be complete in a way we otherwise could not be."

"Complete?" He asked uncertainly.

I offered an example; "In Shinto belief Mr. Tsuzuki, they say that a celestial god has two aspects of its' immortal soul: The Ara-mi-tama and the Nigi-mi-tama. The Nigi-mi-tama is the gentle half of the soul, whilst the Ara-mi-tama is the volatile half of the soul. They are independent within the one being but only by coming together, is the god complete."

Tsuzuki raised an eyebrow. "So, what you are saying is that you and I are actually a god?"

"Yes." I said without hesitation.

I don't think he realized that I was joking. His hands went straight to his hips.

"And you call _me _a fool." He stated, shaking his head. But he was smiling just the same. "I suppose that makes sense. I a really… disturbing kind of way." He paused for a moment and his bottom lip started trembling, his hand brushing at the v shaped cut of his suit as though trying to remove something that wasn't there. He started moving closer to me, until his mouth was a mere inch from mine. I had to restrain the urge to taste him, reminding myself that in this situation he was in charge.

Which was why I was nicely surprised by the soft kiss he left against my lips, merely a chaste brush but worth it just the same. It lasted barely a second but I kissed back regardless, rewarded furthermore by the feeling of his body pressing against mine, his head leaning into my chest.

"I'm… sorry…" He said at last, his voice the most inaudible hush. I could feel his body trembling as a side effect of the rage from before and perhaps even now from some other emotion. He lifted his head and put his mouth very close to my ear. "Please… put your arms around me."

I complied immediately, holding him tightly against me and rocking the damaged creature gently as I supposed a father might hold their child in the darkened night after a frightening dream. I was content to prolong these tender, personal moments for as long as possible but Tsuzuki pulled away much too soon, his face lowered demurely and eyes staring at the very tips of his shoes as though vines had just started to sprout out of them.

"Muraki…" He murmured, voice catching on a stray emotion and releasing a sob in the process. "We left our jackets behind…"

"Oh," I said as I looked back over his shoulder toward the cinema. I couldn't see any police but the Public Security Officials were slithering all over the place, questioning just about everyone they came in contact with. I was grateful that we hadn't been spotted yet and didn't exactly feel like pushing my luck. "I can buy you a new trenchcoat if you like."

Tsuzuki just shook his head, his face flushing at the same time. "I know it's a bother but I like that one. …" He appeared very fragile in my arms, so much so that I wondered if he would shatter should I tighten my hold. His fingers squeezed into my inside elbows and he glanced up at me hesitantly. "… but… Muraki… I can't go back in there now…"

This was likely to earn me some major points and I couldn't see the harm in fetching my own jacket at the same time. After all, most of my shirt was gone.

"All right." I told him, squeezing his arms and then leaning forward to deposit a kiss against his forehead. I was delighted to see his eyes flutter closed and that he leaned into my touch. "You wait here. As soon as I get back, we'll leave right away."

"Um… I really should give a statement to the Public Security folks." He suggested, running his hand through his hair as though this would somehow tame the wild mane. He was fighting a losing battle there. "I'll tell them that you're going in to fetch our jackets and hopefully they won't bother you with any questions."

"And if they do?"

"Say, 'No comment!' in English!" Tsuzuki exclaimed, thrusting his hand out to make a stop sign to an imaginary, inquisitive Security Official. I chuckled a little as I stripped off the charred remnants of my shirt and cast it into the backseat of the car. The blasted burnt fabric was an insufferable nuisance and hardly necessary considering that half of it had been incinerated, most probably directly into the skin of my back. I would need to take a close examination once I had returned to the comfort of my home. I offered my arm to the guardian only noticing then that the exquisitely beautiful man was staring at me in an in an amusing reticence, a faint blush wrapping about both cheeks. Ah… of course. I hadn't even entertained the probability of what reaction the shirts removal might have caused in my companion. What this convenient slip had revealed however was the affirmation of my suspicions: That Tsuzuki had become inexplicably attracted to my body. I'd noticed this unconscious magnetism when we'd first met, though I don't think even he realized how deep this insensible yearning ran. As far as physical appearance went, I had gone to purposeful effort to enforce all aspects of my form. In today's society, everyone is well aware that an attractive individual is likely to gain higher status, be it personal or impersonal. Tsuzuki however was most fortunate in that he clearly did not attend to his physical appearance as religiously as others may have. He had a natural, regal beauty, enforced by the demon's blood coursing through his immortal veins. A young, healthy, handsome body was more advantageous, which of course was the deliberate design of the genetic sub-divisional cells of the demonic DNA. It was at work in my own body also, but on a much less substantial degree then it was in Tsuzuki's.

I'd been powerfully attracted to his body from the first moment I had seen his pictures as an adolescent. That passion had only grown when I'd finally met him face to face. His captivating eyes, clean skin and sculptured contours were appealing qualities to find in a mate.

And suddenly, despite the situation, I was struck by the adamant desire to make love to him. That erotic coil seized my senses like a serpent twining through my desires and squeezing short sharp bursts of passion wherever it tightened its hold. I was powerfully drawn to him, to his body. And the residual ardor I'd experienced inside the dark theater was ever so eager to instigate its previously denied occupation. Nothing else mattered.

I had to taste him. Had to sink my teeth into his flesh, tear him to pieces and pull that hot succulent immortal blood into my throat. I had to tangle my body around his, draw my coils tight and suffocate him within the helix of my desire, watch him shudder, twist, moan and scream my name until his senses erupted with no thought other than the pale, dark wrathful creature that had taken him so completely!

I reached out for him and slid my fingers slowly around his upper arm, my thumb caressing the skin beneath the dark fabric in a rough figure eight. I heard a hitch in his breathing, which meant he must have translated the look on my face. I tightened my hold before he could react to this new knowledge and tugged him against me, straightening my back so that my upper body arched gracefully against his own as we made contact. He gasped, his long hands slapping against my chest as a means of halting his approach, only working to enthrall my senses further. Tsuzuki made a soft noise, his fingernails digging into the flesh of my pectorals, his smooth palms pressing down on my already firm nipples. I leant my face against his neck, ensnaring the smallest crease of his skin between my teeth and sucking on it, grazing the skin every so often with my tongue, drawing my arms around his strong, nubile body.

I sensed the change in his posture, his inexperience crying out for the chance to play on those long withheld desires. His arms curled up like the wings of a roosting bird, the proximity of our bodies forcing him to adjust accordingly. It wasn't like the incident on the cruise ship, where he had angled his face away from me and drawn his mouth down in a sad little crease whilst I'd suckled and nipped at the lovely line of skin perpendicular to his ear. Now I felt his surrender, his acknowledgment. Now I felt his positive reaction to the touch of my lips and his body shuddered briefly, his fingers curling up and drawing down so that they audaciously grazed across my nipple. The coil flared inside of me and I twisted my head to strike his lips with my own. Take my poison, Asato Tsuzuki. Accept my toxin within you and become my prey. Let me dominate you, let me ensnare you, touch you, taste you, devour you…

"We can't…" He drawled trying to move his face away. He moaned powerlessly as I pushed my lips on him again and he kissed me, sucking at my bottom lip, as his hand caressed the arch of muscle in my neck. "Oh… stop it… no… Please just go… go get our jackets…"

I released his warm accommodating mouth, lashing my tongue around his lips as though I were cleaning my plate and buried my face in his shoulder again. I groaned softly as our bodies rose and fell together, my teeth tenderly nipping at the crease of his neck, searching for his pulse so that I might take the proof of his existence into my mouth and possess that beating living warmth. My body wrapped around his own like a sheathe and he the sword that I would protect from all erosion as I pressed him against the car, sliding my hand into the cut of his jacket, gliding across the tanned skin until I felt it come into contact with a very eager little bud. I could have torn the teasing fabric away then, such was my desire to quell my appetite and sample the feast that was this divine, unearthly perfection. Tsuzuki yelped at my touch, his cheeks flaring brightly and nails digging into my flesh. His eyes widened as I pushed against him, my senses screaming at me to throw him onto the seats, tear away his trousers and spread his thighs on either side of me. To sate myself in what I could only imagine would be the hottest, most fulfilling velvety soft heaven I would ever experience.

"Not here… we mustn't…" He whimpered to which I only pushed against him harder, attempting to fit him into the car where I would be able to stifle his protests for good. Out of the corner of my good eye I saw him raise his hand. The blow came so quick and fast I had no time to evade it. I released Tsuzuki immediately and backed off, the erotic tide that had carried me throughout our temporary scruffle suddenly releasing me back onto very lack luster shores. The guardian was glaring at me, his chest heaving from my ministrations and his flushed body attempting to expel the inappropriate arousal I could already see starting to take effect. He straightened up as best he could, pulling his suit back into place, trying to do so with an indifferent air but stumbling awkwardly as he righted himself.

"Enough." He stated in what he must have taken to be a firm, to be obeyed tone of voice. Sighing, he brushed his hand back over his head, scooping some of the messier tresses out of his line of sight only to have them fall back almost instantly. He grimaced and then turned his eyes balefully on me, as though I were to blame for his unruly mop. "How could you even think about that after what we just saw?"

I didn't want to tell him that the sight and scent of blood had been what had aroused me in the first place. Generally, it was a socially unacceptable kink which not too many people were sympathetic too. The fire that had burned so voraciously inside of me only moments before had dwindled away to a stubborn little candle flame. I wasn't sure why I had let myself be so overcome in the first place. Usually I had such immaculate control over my craving for the dark haired creature. I was able to bind it, secure it to the limits of my own freewheeling thoughts and rein it in with the minimalist effort.

It was the curse, I realized. Saki had said it himself, the night that he had cast that disgusting cryptic plague upon my skin. Were I not to sate it, it would devour my senses. As my magical power dwindled, so too did my control over my mind and body.

What a frightening thought that was. I could not afford to let myself be bettered by this time-weathered atrocity. For the sake of this affair I had instigated with the guardian I had no choice but to concentrate all the more severely on withholding these dangerous, passionate urges, or risk impeding my relationship with him furthermore.

Tsuzuki was still staring at me, awaiting an explanation. I shook my head slightly, attempting to erase any lingering sensual urges and ducked my head, bending my back a little in order to show my remorse.

"I apologize." I said as I straightened up. I tended to spend a lot of my time with Tsuzuki, saying that I was sorry and then rescinding on it. "There really is no excuse for my actions, Mr. Tsuzuki. I don't know what I was thinking."

His brilliant eyes took me in warily, expecting this to be some misleading action in order to entice him to relax, I imagine. Of course I had based our entire reunification on this very concept but I was hoping that he would not become aware of this until a much later date. It took him a long, grinding minute before he finally released the tension from his body and accepted my apology with a jerky nod.

"I don't know what you were thinking either." He agreed, smoothing out the front of his jacket and then rubbing at the small hickey on his neck, which was taking its time to heal, I noticed with glee. "But… I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, which is more then you deserve. For now, I'll put my suspicions in that curse of yours, the one that is forcing you to relinquish a lot of your magical strength. I suppose it isn't being that gentle with your hormones either."

I'd never taken my beloved to be the brightest of men. True, he was no simpleton and he would certainly not suffer fools gladly. But he was not the most intuitive of sorts, regardless of his occupation and the length of his existence. Naïve, almost to a fault and too trusting when it came to first impressions. One might have even suggested that he was an airhead of sorts, especially if you were confronted by his jocular, cheerful personality that I very rarely, if at all, witnessed. But he surprised me at that moment. He hadn't been quick to place the blame on me but had taken into consideration the curse on my body, the reason that he had been invited into this arrangement in the first place. I was pleased by this. Perhaps he would not allow me to incriminate myself so easily in his eyes after all.

"How generous of you, Mr. Tsuzuki." I stated, drawing my lips back into the smallest smile. He nodded and then glanced momentarily at my bare chest, his own lips hitched roughly to the side.

"Are you really just going to walk in there without a top on?"

I merely smiled.

Tsuzuki fell over backwards, collapsing against the car as though he'd suffered a cardiac arrest and then lunged back at me, face flushing and eyebrows creased downward forcefully.

"You idiot! You can't do that! What the hell are you thinking!"

"What was left of that shirt was irritating my skin." I explained to the guardian, wishing he wouldn't come so close when I had just managed to wrest my hormones under control. My currently stable state was threatened once more. "I'll just be in and out. No one will notice."

"Of course they'll notice!" Tsuzuki spluttered, trying to wriggle out of his jacket like a butterfly shrugging off a cocoon. He finally tugged it off and handed it to me. "Here, at least put this on."

It was a lovely thought but the jacket, apart from being two sizes too small for me, would have only covered the upper half of my body at best. I wasn't about to go strutting into the cinema wearing what might have been mistaken for a crop top. I conveyed this thought to Tsuzuki with a raised eyebrow. He sighed and threw the jacket back on.

"Fine then. Let's just get this over and done with. This evening has gone on long enough."

I took the guardians arm, leading him back toward the front of the cinema where three Security Officials immediately accosted him. I didn't wait around for him to explain my presence and went straight into the cinema, realizing even before I had taken two steps, that this was going to be one of the most difficult tasks I had ever undertaken.

"Oh my God! There's some really gorgeous guy walking around without a top on!"

Flash!

It was the group of schoolgirls that had been so enraptured by Tsuzuki and I when we'd first entered the cinema two hours ago. They started skipping after me as I tried to sneak past the handful of security officials who were questioning some of the cinema staff, most likely probing just to ensure that they hadn't seen anything. It was bound to be hard enough getting past them, without the aid of the benighted teenage girls who were hounding my heels like the most irritating of reporters.

"Would you please not take any pictures?" I asked in what I hoped to be a reasonable and considerate manner. I got a flash of white light in the face for my trouble.

"So, was that pretty dark haired guy your boyfriend? Or your secret lover?"

"Well-"

"The both of you looked sooo beautiful together!"

"I'm sure we did-"

"Would you mind if we took a picture of the two of you kissing? Our friends would be sooo jealous!"

"I don't know if that's really-"

"I haven't seen such a good looking couple since Shuichi Shindou and Eiri Yuki hooked up!"

"Yuki who? Just who exactly are you girls talking abou-?"

"Why aren't you wearing a top? Did your boyfriend tear it off?"

I wish. "No, no, it's a long-"

"How did you get your hair to go that color?"

" I was born that w-"

"When did you hook up with your boyfriend?"

"How far have you guys gone?"

"Are you both in love? Oh, how romantic!"

"What are your thoughts on gay marriage_?"_

"Do you think its' weird that Ryuichi Sakuma's thirty-one and he still plays with a stuffed rabbit?"

…

Why had I promised not to kill anyone?

I tried to walk away from the group of amorous girls, only to have one throw her arms around my burnt back and embrace me in a death maul. Pain flared through my body like fire.

"You can stop harassing me anytime." I informed them. To demonstrate some sense of finality to the proceedings, I made my way towards the men's toilets. They followed me. "Anytime…" I added, my voice trailing off behind me like a withering kite tail. They continued traipsing along behind me like a line of school children following their teacher out on an excursion. I remembered Tsuzuki's words and snapped loudly over my shoulder in English. "_No comment!_"

The girls stopped in their tracks and their eyes bulged open with a nearly audible cartoon _boing _of amazement. I got the feeling I had made another tremendous error.

"He speaks English!" One of the girls squealed to the rest of them. "Hey, say something else for us in English!"

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon on the nose."

"Wow, that was awesome! Your English is very good Mr… Um…"

I had been called many things in my time, but never anything so flattering as Mr. Um. I believe my status had gone up by three points.

"Mr. Muraki." I told them, hoping that handing out my name wouldn't encourage them to look up my address and start sifting through my garbage in search of evidence from my currently non-existent sexual exploits with Tsuzuki. The girls giggled in what had to have been rehearsed unison and bowed at me.

"Thankyou Mr. Muraki!" One of the girls squealed. I bowed back, well, really just bobbed my head and turned around to make my way over toward the theater where Tsuzuki and I had been seated. One of the other girls slapped me on the back. The pain roared through me again like a wave of burning magma.

"Thankyou for talking with us Mr. Muraki! Say hello to your boyfriend for us!"

"I'll kill you in your sleep you little bitch."

"Hey, he's speaking more English! What does that mean, Mr. Muraki?"

I straightened up, counting backwards from twenty in two's and tried to envision Tsuzuki's blissfully naked body in order to keep myself from committing a senseless rage induced murder.

"It means; 'It was my pleasure and I would be delighted to say hello to him for you.'"

"Aww, you're so sweet Mr. Muraki! You have a pleasant evening now!"

"Yes, you too." I said, though I was internally hoping that they would all trip over each others giggling bodies and fall into rush hour traffic. I watched them until I was positive they were out of range and then continued to make my way back towards the theater. I stopped at the corner and glanced around.

Six Public Security Officials and two unknown individuals were standing outside the closed door, discussing something in hushed undertones. They saw me staring and the unidentified pair immediately approached; their bodies poised defensively. I waited, knowing that it was too late to sneak in unnoticed.

"Can we help you with something?" The tallest of the pair asked, running a hand through his razor edged blue-black hair. The second, an attractive, curly haired young woman, was too busy tracing the lines of my bare torso with her eyes to add anything intelligible to the interrogation.

I nodded once and tossed my head in the direction of the cinema. "My companion and I left our coats behind in that theater. I was wondering if you would be so kind as to retrieve them for us."

The young man leveled his eyes suspiciously at me. "You didn't happen to be in the cinema when the incident occurred did you?"

I nodded again. "As a matter of fact sir, I did indeed happen to witness the incident. My companion is currently making a statement with one of the officers outside. He is a guardian of death." I added, all too aware of how precarious my situation was. Public Security Officials were a branch of the Ministry that worked amongst mortal justice systems, such as a secret service one might say. They were the one's with the ability to erase mortals memories, particularly in cases like this.

"Ah, so you are privy to that information." The dark haired man said, his gaze remaining strictly focused on my face. I noticed some strange red symbols underneath his eyes, which didn't appear to be lines from weariness or natural body markings. They looked like tattoos. "What is the name of the guardian you were with?"

"That is not my business to tell you. Why not ask the official to whom he is giving the statement?"

"I'm asking you."

Oh, a smart-ass. I was becoming increasingly irritated by this overzealous suspicion. "Excuse me, but I don't think I need to be telling you anything, sir. I shall give my own statement to the same official that my companion has, if they have need of it. But I do not see why I should be questioned by you when all I have asked is if you would be so kind as to bring our jackets to us."

The young woman finally spoke, her voice husky and at the same time soothing. I could see the effect it was having on the feisty young man. "Now, now gentleman, please do not start an alteration here in the hallway." She turned her attention on me and smiled very genuinely, trying to maintain eye contact. Her eyes were miss-matched; one brown, the other green. "You may make your statement to the official that your companion has. That will be fine. But I'm sorry; we are unable to bring your coats out to you. The door is stuck fast and cannot be opened. We have tried…" She hesitated for a moment before lowering her voice even further. "- we have tried transporting inside in order to examine the scene but we are unable to move beyond the door. It is as though there's some kind of barrier blocking our magic. So I apologize but we won't be able to retrieve your garments as of yet. If you give us your name we can contact you once we have found a way into the room?"

I waved a hand, reminding myself that they'd undoubtedly run my name through a database before calling to inform me that they'd found my coat. And once they had, they'd make the connection to the serial killer who had caused them so many problems in the past. Particularly the Queen Camilla incident. I heard that had taken a lot of work for this branch of the ministry to clean up.

"Oh no, that's quite all right. I'm not hard up for clothing at the moment. Thankyou for your time."

The woman smiled congenially as I walked off, her partner staring at my face as though he recognized me from somewhere. I heard the warning sirens go off in my head and made my exit quickly.

Well, there wasn't much to be done about our coats. As fond as Tsuzuki was of his jacket, I'm sure there wasn't something out there that wouldn't tickle his fancy after some searching. It might make a nice gift, if I were to buy him a replacement. I smiled to myself as I made my way to the restroom, thinking of the beautiful ways in which I could dress him that would compliment his fine body perfectly. A wide hemmed jacket that drew in tight around the waist would do him credit. Maybe black leather, or even a navy blue. I could choose clothes for him just as easily as I could a doll and dress him up in all the best finery that money could buy. I imagined the way eyes would be drawn so mercilessly to him, dressed in exquisite and expensive garments. He was already a head turner as it was. Imagine the god I could make of him. Ah, my sweet Nigi-mi-tama. My gentle half.

I wrapped up my business with the urinal and moved over to the sinks to wash my hands. The cold water felt wonderfully soothing against the scraped skin. As I applied soap and warm water across my palms and fingers, my eyes caught sight of a bundled pile of cloth, set before one of the sinks to my right, at the base of the long bathroom mirror. I switched off the tap and turned my full attention on the black and white fabric, drying my hands on those insubstantial paper towels as I moved closer, casting the sodden tissue away once I was done with it.

Tsuzuki's trench coat had been brutally tied around my own jacket like a noose, the sleeves gripping the jacket around the lapels as though one coat was hanging the other. The symbolism was painfully clear.

Your lover will kill you for your crimes.

"Those weren't here when I came in…" I realized aloud, darting my eyes all around the silent, starch white bathroom. I was impeccable at sensing another's presence. For three months I had honed these instincts, prepared for the probability that the guardians would turn up on my doorstep. I was positive I had been alone when I had first entered the bathroom and that those jackets had not been there. For the minute or so I had been facing the urinal, someone had entered, placed the jackets down in their poetic knot of justice and then vacated the scene all without my knowing.

An impressive feat to achieve.

All the toilet stalls were open and I could see inside each and every one. There was no one hiding. I turned back to the jackets and shrugged, reaching over to pick them up off of the sink.

As my fingers touched the fabric, something cold and painful lashed around my wrist. I emitted a shocked exclamation as I registered that the touch came from the blood stained hand that had punctured through the mirror without breaking the glass. Its grimy fingers were lashed about my arm like a too tight wristband. I glanced up, stared into the place my reflection ought to be.

And saw Saki.

The vision struck mercilessly. Something tall and dressed in black, blood flowing from a hole situated in its' right shoulder blade, stumbling through the fog, in a place I didn't recognize. I followed it and entered into a graveyard. The figure weaved its' way between thousands of cracked and broken graves, all the names of which had been scratched off. I tried not to look too closely in case I recognized any of the hidden names. The dark figure finally stopped beside four tombstones, all of which titled open graves. The bloodied figure limped over to the first of the graves and stood there for a moment, as though checking the name on the tombstone. Then, without warning, it pitched forward and fell into the six-foot hole with not so much as a sound. I didn't want to get any closer but I was suddenly standing right next to the hole regardless of my initial reluctance. I didn't want to look at the name but something wrenched my eyes down to the carving within the stone.

"**Saki Shidou. The Child of Infidelity. The First."**

"**It hurt… it hurt…" **Came the voice from the hole. I looked down. Saw Saki's mouth moving.

"**I woke up in Hell. I went to sleep that day. Went to sleep in the bed of pain and woke up in Hell. I didn't laugh, Kazutaka. Not when you said that I did."**

"You were laughing then. Like the first time we met."

"**I never laughed. Why was that all you ever seem to remember of me? I laughed with you, I laughed but only because you laughed along with me. But why did that make me so evil?"**

"Because you put this thing on my body! You destroyed my family!"

The corpse tilted its' head up at me, its black eye sockets staring up emotionlessly and its mouth screeching accusations from the grave. "**Stop it! Stop saying that! Stop denying it until the end! Let go of me! Let go of me! LET GO OF ME KAZUTAKA!"**

"I'll never let go of you!" I roared back. "Not until you pay for what you did to me. I'll spend the rest of my life agonizing over death, over my wanton hideous desires because of what you've done to me!"

"**And I'll spend all of eternity dying over and over and over again until you let go of me! Forget about the past and live a life now! Please let me go! Please let me go! Please let me go, please let me go, pleaseletegopleaseletmegopleaseletmego…"**

I tried to cover my ears, to block off his prattling mantra but nothing could drown him out. His voice made its way past my hands and into my brain, spinning around and around my thoughts until I wanted to tear my own eyes out just to give them a place to escape. "I won't! I won't let you go! I'll punish you for what you did to me! For the way you smiled down at me before you raised that sword to strike me dead!"

"**I didn't smile that day."** He insisted. But of course he was lying.

"**I didn't smile that day."**

"**I DIDN'T SMILE THAT DAY!"**

"You LIAR!" I roared. This is a dream, I told myself. I can wake up at anytime and vanquish this nightmare. But when I tried to wake up, Saki was still in that hole staring up at me, blood pooling beneath him from the bullet hole in his back. "You're a liar!" I screamed down at him. "Leave me in peace!"

"**Then let me rest in peace."**

I started to kick the dirt onto his face, wanting to bury him, to drown out his words forever. How dare that long dead abomination try to place doubt into my mind! To turn this around on me. To make me the villain of the piece! I'd committed a thousand atrocities in my time but I had not become the creature that I am today without the aid of the devil who had come into my life through the evil dalliances of my father. He had murdered my family because of his fling. Because he had spawned this aberration that was Saki Shidou. Even the name told the story of the monster he was. Shidou. Shi, the same sound as in death. Saki was death. And he was the one who had brought death into my existence.

It was because of him that I was this atrocity that couldn't stave off its own animalistic carnal desires! It was all because of him! Of his smug, haughty, evil, vindictive smile!

"I despise you! I'll tear you to pieces! I'll tear you out of Hell again and throw you straight back in so I can watch you burn! Watch you burn to ashes! Then I'll sift the ashes through my fingers and laugh and cast them back into the fire, so you will burn for all eternity!"

I watched the dirt cover him. Clog up his empty eye sockets, fill his protesting evil mouth, choke him, smother him, kill him. It turned the blood around him to crimson mud. Soon, I had buried him completely. He was gone again, his voice forever silenced by the secretive earth, never to so much as pass on his whispers to me.

Three empty spaces beside his own grave. Three more bodies to be cast into the dirt for the eternal slumber. To be buried from the ears of the world.

I knew somehow that it was important for me to see. But before I could read even the first name, the vision had ended, taking the mystery of the graves and the memory of Saki with it.

**A/N: **If you would like to leave a review for this half of the chapter, go right ahead. If not, continue on to part 2!


	12. Muraki: The Gift of Death Part2

**Dark Adaptation**

**The Gift of Death: Part 2**

"Muraki? Did something bad happen inside the cinema?"

I helped Tsuzuki out of the car gently. His large innocent eyes inquired an answer so inoffensively that I came close to telling him. But what was his concern over my past history? He didn't need anymore to contend with tonight. I would deal with my own issues.

"No." I replied, taping a smile across my lips as he rose out of the seat and stood beside me. "I'm just… weary on account of our mêlée with the demon. Nothing to concern yourself over, Mr. Tsuzuki."

I had awakened outside of the restroom door, insider the foyer of the cinema, which must have looked terribly elegant to anyone who happened to be walking past. Fortunately, whatever had accosted me inside of the powder room had been kind enough to throw mine and Tsuzuki's jackets out behind me. So without a second glance I had picked them up and made my way outside to reunite with my guardian. He was perceptive enough to realize that something was wrong; from the way I kept glancing over my shoulder and insisting that we make haste as quickly as possible.

However, far from the cinema now and safely back in the garage of my home, I was starting to feel more at ease. Such was my stubbornness, that I declared that nothing would ruin the rest of the evening for Tsuzuki and I. This was supposed to be our time. The night now belonged to us and should anything bother us, be it a demon from hell or a door to door to door salesman, I would happily take out my double barreled shot gun and blow a hole through their fucking head.

All right. So I was a little bit agitated from the encounter with… with what? I had no idea what had touched me in the cinema restroom, what had inspired that awful vision of a past that didn't exist. I would have to take that into consideration some other time, when I wasn't in the company of my favorite guardian, who on the contrary to my own somewhat testy state, had cheered up after speaking with the Public security official.

"They told me they couldn't get into theater at first. Said that there was some powerful force blocking the doorway. Turned out to be a complex Spiritual Seal; that's where a demon will bind an area, usually entranceways or doors, with the soul of a deceased mortal. It's difficult to remove it but they say that the key to unlock the seal is always placed at some point in the nearby vicinity and you can unlock it simply by coming into contact with it. Anyway, I guess they must have found the key because the front doors just sprang open! There was a lot of blood all over the main entrance and the walls but they didn't find any bodies. Not Pandora's not that awful windbag we fought, nothing! Which means that Pandora might still be alive, right? If they didn't find a body then there's a chance he'll be okay!"

I didn't want to suggest the high improbability of that, considering the amount of blood the child had lost already and how irate the demon had been when it had attacked him. But as long as it gave Tsuzuki hope, he was happy. And when he was happy, I was happy. It meant that he would not spend the remainder of the evening in a dreary, depressive vortex of angst. On the drive home he had held the gifts that the boy had given him and squeezed them against his body as though somehow this would make amends for the dire injuries the child had clearly received.

"You're all right… I just know you are!" I heard him whisper. I just kept my eyes facing forward, feeding him no thoughts to the contrary.

I locked the car and held open the doors in the side wall of the garage that led into the house. We made our way up the carpeted flight of stairs into the hallway, switching on lights as we went. The housekeeper greeted us as we entered the sitting room and then offered to hang up our coats. She didn't say a word about my lack of shirt, for which I was grateful.

"If it's all right…" I turned to address the tentative sound of Tsuzuki's voice as he stood uncomfortably in the doorway of the living room, hands wedged deep into his pockets. "I'd like to wash before dinner. There's… still blood on me... I feel kind of dirty."

Ah, what I wouldn't give to hear him use those words in a different context.

"Then you should bathe." I told him.

I led him towards the master bathroom and showed him inside, pointing out where I kept the towels and cleansing utensils. He seemed a little surprised that I was still standing in the doorway and had not so much as taken a step into the room.

"Would you prefer to shower or bathe?" I asked, ignoring his questioning expression and gesturing around with my hand. Tsuzuki took in the grand space of the bathroom in appreciative silence, examining the shower stall and the portable spa, which took up one corner. It was rather bare in some aspects. There were no potted plants and only two pictures were mounted on the wall. However, one couldn't deny the sheer elegance of the place.

Tsuzuki's eyes returned to rest on me, questioning silently.

"You're not going to wash with me?" He seemed confused. "I thought you would have jumped at the chance to get me naked in a hot tub."

Honestly. What blatant self-confidence.

Though the idea itself was very much appealing, I had no intention of making love to Tsuzuki in the spa. At least, not on this occasion. I wanted the moment I took him to be as tender and perfect as possible, so that he enjoyed it. So that he remembered it. Was unable to forget the pleasure we shared and would return to me in order to sate his desire for it again and again and again. If I were to bathe with him, I most certainly would not be able to help myself.

"Mr. Tsuzuki, though I would very much enjoy lying with you in warm water, I'm sure you would be more comfortable bathing alone." I told him, twisting the controls on the spa to turn the water on. It started to surge into the interior of the tub, rising higher and higher as I upped the pressure. "I can shower in the en suite in my bedroom. That way, I can have dinner cooking by the time you get out. I'm sure your stomach is at its' wits end by now!"

It grumbled as though agreeing and Tsuzuki rubbed it, looking a little bit distracted. I flashed him a warm smile.

"Though… if you simply insist on my company, I'm sure it wouldn't be too much trouble to join you-"

"No, no, no! That's quite all right!" He exclaimed, raising his arms and then crossing them back and forward over each other as though warding off my approaching sexual lures. "Thankyou Muraki. I… shouldn't be too long."

"It's my pleasure." I told him, thinking it would certainly be more pleasurable if I weren't so concerned with keeping up this ridiculous charade of false clemency. Just how much longer would I have to play at being this ineffectual Buddhist Monk before Tsuzuki consented to consummating our relationship in a tangle of physical signatures? If I was the tantrum throwing sort, I would have been stomping my foot for all it was worth and screaming my lungs out.

But alas, it was with these very sore thoughts that I left Tsuzuki to bathe on his own and made my way into the lonely en suite, where I had only days ago, washed away the memory of nightmares sixteen years young.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Though not the most profoundly established cook in the land, I must confess in all honesty, that my skills are rather exceptional when I have need of them. Tonight, I had decided to prepare chicken risotto, with a chocolate sauce, owing to Tsuzuki's fondness of sweets. Once I had showered, I dressed in a comfortable pair of pants and shirtsleeves before making my way down to the kitchen and setting out all the ingredients I would require. The chicken was browning in the pan and I was relentlessly coordinating my efforts between monitoring the meat and stirring the sauce, when Tsuzuki finally made his entrance. I'd been starting to wonder if he had drowned in the spa, what from the amount of time he'd dallied in the warm water.

"Ah, so his majesty has finally conceded to slumming it in the kitchen I see." I said, glancing over at Tsuzuki and allowing myself to be momentarily appalled by his state. "Why… are you still wearing that?"

After cleaning himself of the child's blood that had disturbed him so only an hour ago, you would think the man possessed the common sense to dress in clean clothing. But no. He had pulled back on his comely, blood-splattered suit. From the expression on his face I understood that he had not been thrilled with this decision either.

"Well… what other choice did I have?" He asked hopelessly, his long dark bangs sticking in strands to his forehead. His eyes were red-rimmed. It looked as though he had been crying.

I walked towards him and placed my hand on his shoulder, distributing what I hoped was a comforting squeeze against the muscle.

"There, there now Mr. Tsuzuki. You were more then welcome to wear something of mine."

Tsuzuki shrugged and crossed his arms. "I felt kind of uncomfortable going through your wardrobe without asking your permission first. Besides… you're quite a bit larger than I am. I don't think anything of yours would fit."

"It would hang off of you certainly, but I don't believe you need be concerning yourself with how snug the clothing is at this point. It's the evening now. What's important is that you're comfortable enough." I grasped him by the hand and steered him in the direction of the sitting room where the lit fire was roaring warmth out to each and every corner. "Now, warm yourself by the fire and I'll see what I can do about getting you some clean clothes. If you feel like having a drink, there is a wine rack to your left just on the wall. You may help yourself to anything on the shelf."

"Thankyou." He said softly, arms wrapped around his body, shoulders trembling. I watched him ten times more religiously than I had been the risotto as he shuffled into the sitting room and sank down on the mahogany couch, retrieving the gifts that the child had given him and holding them tightly against his body. For the love of God. You would think the boy had been his blood brother and not some cheeky twerp he'd only met once or twice.

I gave the risotto sauce another thorough stir and then flipped the chicken breast before making a quick visit to the wardrobe in my room. I was very tempted to bring Tsuzuki the white kimono I had been wearing the night of our reunion, just for the pleasure I would gain in seeing him in such a slight garment. I reminded myself however, that Tsuzuki was not likely to appreciate the sentiment such as he might were I to bring him warm and comfortable clothing. I sifted through the clothes on the wooden hangers and finally retrieved the smallest long sleeved shirt I could find and the tightest pair of pants I owned. They were most likely going to be too big for him as it were but there wasn't much I could do about that. At least he would be warm.

I made my way back down into the sitting room with the clothes slung carefully over my left arm. Tsuzuki was seated on one side of the sofa; his legs curled up tight against his body like an animal crouched in a burrow during the coldest day of winter. A long stemmed champagne glass, correction: A long stemmed antique champagne glass, was clutched in trembling fingers, full to the brim with red wine. I looked at the bottle on the table. He had chosen a Château Peptris, possibly the rarest bottle of wine I owned.

I got the feeling he was starting to take advantage our relationship and was delighted by it.

"I'm afraid that these are the only things I own that will fit you." I apologized, holding out the clothes to him.

Tsuzuki nodded and set his glass down. "They're fine, thank you." He took the shirt and pants from me, set them down on the cushion beside him and proceeded to unbutton his shirt. I watched contentedly as each new section of tanned skin was revealed to me, whispering silent lures to entice me closer and sample the delectable body that it sheathed. Tsuzuki noticed me watching and blushed faintly. "Um… would you mind giving me some privacy so I could change?"

I wanted to scream 'NO!' at him with all the energy I could muster but as it was I had no choice but to respect his requests if he was to ever gain a higher opinion of me. Also, I had the risotto to think about.

"Certainly, Mr. Tsuzuki." I bowed my head and then turned on my heel, heading back towards the kitchen. "You just make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready shortly."

It was a lonely, but well rehearsed affair cooking by myself. I was worried about leaving Tsuzuki alone with my bottle of very rare, very old and very potent wine but there wasn't much I was able to do about it. Risotto required constant attention, much like a newborn child. If I wanted dinner to be perfect, it was important I stir the sauce accordingly to ensure that it did not burn. The best I could do to monitor the guardian was calling out every few or so minutes, or ducking into the room every once in a while to check the level of the wine in the bottle. I was dismayed to see it getter lower and lower, whilst the wine in Tsuzuki's glass appeared to be higher and higher each time I visited. I wasn't sure how many drinks it would have taken for the guardian to become intoxicated and I whether his healing ability would have reduced the effect of the alcohol in any way. I managed to confiscate the bottle whilst we ate, to which I was rewarded with whining and sulking and his usual agitated frown being leveled at me from across the food, even as he shoveled it into his mouth. He forgot about the wine whilst we ate and praised me highly on the risotto, licking the sticky chocolate sauce off of his fingers like a child with a dripping ice-cream cone. I indulged myself in this brief truce that had formed between us, knowing that it wasn't likely to last all the much longer.

When dinner had concluded, I took our plates and placed them in the dishwasher before returning to the lounge to enjoy one final drink with the guardian before he escaped my clutches for the remainder of the night. This time, I was pleased that I didn't need to request that he sit close to me. Possibly as a result of how much wine he had consumed prior to dinner, coupled with what he had been sipping at before I'd sat down, he had no qualms with sitting beside me, our knees touching as we faced one another. His face was dancing in the flickering light from the fireplace; the inner half of his lips quenched the same delicious purple as his eyes. We were quiet together for a long time. Only in this instance, the silence felt completely natural, as though we were old friends who had known each other for years. I felt in absolute control of my body. Of my senses, the curse and my own usually lingering emotions. Why, I hadn't even felt like lighting up a cigarette.

"Muraki, why were you so peeved by Pandora?"

I raised my brow at Tsuzuki as he stared at me inquisitorially, finger tracing the smudged rim of his glass. His eyelids were lowered to half-mast, as though he were ready to doze off in my lap.

"When he called you that nickname… Kazu… you seemed to get really upset. You went so pale I thought you were gonna fade away! And that other word… Rosebud? He seemed to really scare you! What was all that about? Did you two know each other?"

He was more observant than I thought. I had kind of been hoping that this matter could have been put aside for another time and place but Tsuzuki, numbed as he was by the alcohol's toxic effect, seemed as though he was not going to let it slide. I sighed and took a very long sip from my drink.

"No. I didn't know him. Those names… only one person has ever called me by those names." I mused, placing my hand atop my glass and then resting it against the leg I had tucked underneath my body. I leant my elbow atop the rise of the sofa and then pressed my fist against the side of my head, studying Tsuzuki from under the sway of my hair. How beautiful his long eyelashes were in the dim light. How deft the curves of his lips were. Why did he want to discuss such irrelevant long forgotten matters when there was so much to be said about the craft of his body? He was so serious in my presence. I hoped that this would change soon enough. I was tired of these trite mundane conversations. "The boy, when he spoke in that frosty manner… it reminded me somewhat of that person. But it's not important."

"It might be. Who did he remind you of?"

I felt the slightest bit jaded. My good eye narrowed and I gave him a very direct, very attention-ensnaring look. "My love, clearly you are the one whom has something to discuss. I have no more to say of the matter. I tell you, it is not important. My reaction was as contrite as the reason itself is. Why not tell me what is on your mind? I see you have not released those shabby gifts for one second since the boy gave them to you."

He glanced down at the white handkerchief and the worn stuffed bird in his lap, his eyes growing even sadder as he looked at them.

"Why not tell me what the handkerchief reminds you of?" I pressed, moving an inch closer so that our knees pushed even more tightly together. He shifted at the contact. "You said that it was…" I paused. "… alike."

His gaze dropped even lower. A tiny, hardly discernable voice fell from his lips. I had to lean closer in order to catch it.

"It was my sisters. She made me a handkerchief… just like… this one." He held it out to me as though searching for some validation that I was unable to give. How was I expected to know what her handkerchief looked like?

I placed my hand on top of his and looked directly into his eyes. "That was a long time ago, my love. It is very possible that someone else made another handkerchief that was very similar to the one your sister made for you."

He shook his head at me, already convinced to the contrary of my powerful logic. His messy brown hair lashed about his face like icy wind, batting away the words.

"No! It's not a coincidence! This handkerchief is exactly the same! Exactly!"

I squeezed his hand. "And would it be so terrible if it was the same handkerchief? So, the child has come across it and kept it for himself. It would be an amazing coincidence I admit, but hardly deserving of such upset. Now, where did you last see your own handkerchief? Do you remember?"

Tsuzuki's head sunk down even lower if that was physically possible. Annoyed by his attempts to avoid me, I moved my fingers from his hand and clasped them about his chin, pulling his face back up so that we were in perfect symmetry with each other. This was becoming a very indulgent little habit of mine, as though the beautiful man was reduced to nothing more than one of my dolls. I was all too comfortable in allowing this to become a reality.

"Mr. Tsuzuki?" I inquired softly. His bottom lip trembled. "Why… you're shaking! Whatever is the matter? Surely it cannot be such an alarming thought you hold in your mind can it?"

"I-I…" His voice trembled as surely as his body did. "I… pu-pu-p-put it i-in m-muh-my sisters hands… when they put her in the e-er…earth!"

The words crashed against my ears with solemn and volatile clarity. What was this madness that had been thrust upon my beloved now? Of all the cruel twists I had used against him, even I would not have considered such an act to drive his thoughts to the barest brink of madness. The images he must have entertained! Someone digging up his sisters' grave and opening her long undisturbed casket… prying the handkerchief out of brittle, lifeless hands… no wonder he had been so upset!

My instincts became primal and territorial once more. Someone other than me was attempting to psychologically injure my lover! I couldn't allow that! I wouldn't allow that!

"Mr. Tsuzuki… try not to imagine the worst. Don't let such thoughts get the better of you. Do you hear what I'm saying?"

He started to sob and I clanked my glass down on the table, spilling liquid from it like a splatter of blood from the body of a victim and I clasped both sides of his face in my hands, forcing him to look right at me. I gave him a little shake, knowing it was bound to make matters worse but at the same time hoping it would somehow snap him out of this awful trance he was in.

"Don't you cry now. You listen to me, Mr. Tsuzuki! Don't you dare cry for them! Don't let that creature make you cry! Don't let him have that over you!"

"But!" He whimpered, his face collapsing in on itself even as he tried to speak. "But… but it knows! It knows what I did! It knows about the people I killed! It knows I… it knows I killed her first!"

His sister? He had murdered his own sister? Somehow, this didn't sound right to my ears. This wasn't what I had been expecting of my Tsuzuki. There was no denying that he had taken life when he'd been alive but I'd always believed that to be a result of his gradual decline into insanity, a power flux that just burst out of him. Shook his body out of control and caused that massacre almost a century ago. The massacre that had been brought on by the death of his sister.

I gave him another little shake. "Killed her?" I asked carefully. I lowered my face and moved it closer to him. "You mean that she was sick, don't you? She died of an illness, your sister, didn't she? Ruka? That was her name wasn't it? In the reports I read, Ruka Tsuzuki died of an illness."

Tsuzuki's eyes shuddered with tears and I couldn't help but think it the most pathetically adorable thing I had ever seen in my life. His words didn't seem capable of forming properly. They miscarried before being born through his lips and he was forced to impregnate the meaning of the sentence before attempting again to get his point across.

"I was that illness." He insisted.

Oh. So that's what this was all about. It had not been a deliberate murder, it was another of his 'Everyone around me gets hurt because I'm worthless and evil and so forth' beliefs. Before I was able to get a handle of myself, I took the glass out of his hand, set it down on the table in the puddle created by my own and wrapped my arms around his slender, shivering body. I felt him shudder as I pulled him against me, but then he relaxed, his body hefting a very deep and very whispery sigh.

"Is this what drove you to such sorrow in the first place?" I asked, closing my eyes so that I was fully able to appreciate the feeling of our bodies against one another. "So… that's where it all began. You couldn't save your sister. She died of an illness that you thought was your fault because of what you are. You probably had no choice but to sit by and watch it take her. You weren't able to do anything. You could do nothing but watch her die."

A tear trailed down his face. I knew because I felt it fall against my own cheek and then arch down to my mouth, where I drew it inside to taste his sweet, untouchable grief. For one brief moment, we shared that single tear.

"That's why it hurt you so much. When you were unable to save those that I killed. Much like your sister, you had no power to stop me, the disease, from taking the lives of those innocents. It must have been more terrible for you than even I imagined."

His arms came around me, more softly then I deserved after reminding him of the evil I had done. His fists cupped great handfuls of my shirt and he buried his face in my shoulder, body heaving momentarily as he cried against me.

"Forgive me…" I whispered and for the very first time ever, I meant what I had said. I meant it. I couldn't explain why but I felt remorse then for what he must have suffered, watching his sister whither away and being unable to help. "I must have been your punishment then, my love. So that you could punish yourself for watching your sister die. Now you are employed in a place where you are reminded of death. And for an eternity, you will watch innocents like your sister die over and over and over again before your eyes. And you will not be able to stop it from happening. The events of your very first agony will be given to you, to punish you for what you are and what you did that evening when you took the lives of so many. And I was given life in this world, to punish you."

He sobbed against me, fingernails digging into my skin. I cupped the back of his head in my hand and pressed his face into my chest. My teeth were clenched together. For some reason I wanted to scream. I understood now what the symbolism of our entwined jackets meant, what the perpetrator had intended by tying them together.

Tsuzuki glanced up me, as though silently inquiring an explanation for my kindness. I patted the crown of his head gently and rose to my feet. "I have something for you. Wait here a moment if you please."

Tsuzuki just nodded and took another awfully large sip of his drink. I made my way back up to the bedroom, slamming my hand down hard on the dresser sill once I was hidden behind the door. I was very close to losing my temper.

Tsuzuki was inebriated. I could tell already that his reflexes were lax. His eyes unfocused. This was not what I'd had planned for that evening. When I made love to him, it had to have been without the influence of any outside inhibitors so that the blame would all be his own this time around. It was impossible to take him in this state. The alcohol had made him emotional and his distress was only unbalancing my usually unshakeable resolve. Everything I had worked toward would be ruined!

I took a few deep, relaxing breaths as I retrieved the gift I had purchased for the guardian that day. Set inside a fine red felt box, it looked positively elegant.

I made my way back down into the lounge, looking over at my beloved possession. There was only twelve feet between us but it was such an insufferable distance all the same. He could have been right next to me or a thousand miles away for all it mattered. Tsuzuki was gazing out into the light of the fire, lost I gathered, in his own thoughts. Even from that distance I could see his throat rising and falling from the intake of breath; the soft, supple skin rippling down to his collar and shifting fluidly over his shoulders like a veil of golden silk. My breath caught, tangled up as my emotions snarled my senses into a corkscrew of maddening fervor. I could barely believe I had him so close to me now, all alone in my company without the insipid presence of his tempestuous partner or the overprotective secretary. Not to mention the vapid little blonde haired whelp he'd dragged along the previous night. Here stood my desire before me, delighting me in all his smooth perfection, playing tricks with my body that even I couldn't begin to calculate.

I took another step, purposefully trying to make it noticeable and he turned to face the intrusion. My eyes strayed to the neckline that ran directly down his bare chest and smiled, pleased that he was two sizes smaller than I was and that most of the garment was sliding off of one half of his torso with every subtle movement he made.

Tsuzuki noticed the aim of my gaze and modestly buttoned the shirt up, leaving only the top button undone. I was disappointed.

"And I liked it so much better the other way," I remarked as I walked over to join him on the sofa, arching my lips into a vindictive little smile. His eyes attempted to seek me out without much success. I sighed and brought my hand up to cup his chin, raising his face to align with my own, as easily as I would adjust the head of a doll. "You've had too much to drink." I established.

"No… duh…" He whispered, his breath smelling sweetly of the wine in his glass. I took it out of his hand and set it on the small table, before pressing both palms against the outline of his jaw, rubbing my thumbs against the flesh of his skin.

"This night was meant to be perfect," I informed him not allowing so much as a drop of my true feelings to leak into my voice. The disappointment would be too harsh to bear. "I wanted to lay you down in front of the fire and unwrap you from your clothes like the priceless treasure you are. I wanted to slide inside of your body and look into your eyes. To watch you smile as I made love to you. I wanted us to touch one another and feel each second with the same passion we felt for those few wonderful, immaculate moments we shared in the car tonight. I wanted… to show how much I love you. And that you could accept this with no qualms."

This was extended to him in the palm of my hand, plucked from the pocket of my pants. The small rectangular box, slightly curved along the top and sloping downwards, seemed to frighten Tsuzuki more than my proximity did. He straightened in my hold, snapped back into reality by all the dramatic sparks the appearance of the box must have ignited in his brain. I realized his fingers were shaking as he gently accepted the gift, breath frozen in his throat and then exploding into bloom as he lifted the lid, revealing the treasure within.

The gold watch was perfect. Well, nothing else was befitting of my beloved that was for certain. It had a medium width gold band, fringed by articulate minute rhinestones and a tangle of vines carved along the entire length. Tsuzuki extracted it from the box with the tips of his fingernails, nearly dropping it as he was trembling so much.

"Do you like it?" I asked softly. Tsuzuki stared at me, eyes impossibly wide.

"Muraki… it's… it's too much! I can't possibly accept this!"

"I insist." I told him, untwining his now old watch from around his wrist and wrapping the new one about the scarring. It covered the marks even better than the previous watch had. "I would be most offended if you were not to accept this from me."

Slowly, surely aware that he was doing it, Tsuzuki placed his hand on my face, his fingers stroking down my T-zone, his fingernails raking my pale eyelashes. I exhaled deeply, feeling my stomach contort as his fingertips came to rest on my lips, tracing them as though they were the lips of gods. Hands that had hurt so many now nursed the face of another who had caused equal, if not more agony in this world; with a tenderness I'm sure he never thought himself capable of. Tsuzuki himself appeared surprised at his own compassion. He looked over my face curiously, as though really seeing it for the first time, caressing each and every point of it. I shut my eyes and angled my face down, catching his hand so that I could press a kiss into the palm. I was unable to help myself and the single soft touch became several needy and desperate kisses and I was left panting against his skin, wanting so much more but restrained by the rules I had imposed upon myself. I put my arms around him and kissed his neck, chills racing through my body despite the heat of the fire shifting against us. Tsuzuki moaned at my touch and shifted, allowing me to pull the length of our bodies together. His arms were pinned against the wall of my chest and he angled his head up, eyes sliding shut as I littered the soft, wet sacrifices against his warm skin. He made a little noise as I dug my bottom row of teeth into his jaw line, distributing a gentle nip before sucking on the mark I'd made.

"Forgive me," I murmured, sliding my hand down along his back, searching for the hem before slipping my fingers underneath to touch his long withheld skin. I could feel the ridges of his spine and I traced them with my fingertips, pressing kisses against that little spot beneath Tsuzuki's ear that I adored so much. "I cannot control my desire for you when you are near, no matter how uncouth it may seem."

I moved my face around and lowered my lips to within an inch of his own. He appeared listless and weak. And expectant.

"Would it be a terrible faux pas if I were to kiss you right now?"

Tsuzuki's expression wavered uncertainly. He pressed his lips together tightly, then closed his eyes and shook his head as a blush spread across his cheeks.

"No…"

I couldn't even smile. The moment was too perfect. Before he could so much as squeak another word, I closed the distance between us, lips pressing insistently against others that were all too willing to respond. Tsuzuki sank against me with a moan, eyes snapping open for a moment as he registered what was happening and then slowing grinding shut as though he were coming to terms with the reality and shrugging it off. He murmured against me, lower lip riding languorously across the wave of my own and a faint whimper emitted from between our mouths as I nipped at that bottom lip, requesting entrance. Tsuzuki parted his lips timorously, allowing me the chance to slide my tongue slowly and carefully into the neighboring mouth. I weaved my fingers up the front of the too large shirt, unthreading the buttons as I came across them and soothing it away from his shoulders. He blushed, this time in frustration and went to pull away from me when I placed an even harder kiss against his enticing mouth, smothering whatever diatribe he'd been prepared to hurl at me. His eyes widened as I moved my lips softly against his, releasing him after I'd run my tongue tantalizingly slowly across his, plucking at the very tip of the pink, wet muscle with the apex of my own. I'm not sure he understood the unspoken allusion I'd made there but once I had educated him, he would undoubtedly start to pick up on such erotic references.

I kissed him again, sliding his shirt down his arms and working on the buttons that held the cuffs firmly around his wrists. His face was as red as a beet, fingers fluttering hesitantly at my upper arms like physically impaired butterflies. I couldn't read his thoughts but I could read his body language. It sang out to me loud and clear. He was terrified by me. But he was even more terrified by his desire for me.

I tried to entice him to relax, placing fluttery velvet kisses against his cheek and coursing them down the length of his neck, pausing at his evident collarbone. I closed my eyes and breathed into his honeyed skin.

"I cannot tell you to not fear me," I told him, peeling away his white shirt as though it were nothing more than tissue paper. Tsuzuki's breathing escalated as it fell to the floor and my hand coursed down the long arches of his upper body, finally coming to a recess over his perfectly cut navel. "If I were to tell you to trust me, I understand that you would not. To tell you that I would not hurt you would only be hypocritical. But you must know that you absolutely enthrall my senses in a way that nothing in this world ever has before, my love. I have no desire to harm you now. But I won't ask anything else of you tonight, not after you have given me so much by your presence alone. I am content with that. You make up your own mind whether you would place your trust in my hands this evening. I won't sway your decision either way."

Tsuzuki's entire body was trembling as I cupped my mouth around his jugular and sucked firmly. I could feel the blood coursing underneath his darkened skin. His immortal life, so very much in my power. One of his hands slapped against my back, nails drawing harsh scratches along my roaring flesh like fishhooks as my fingers worked to undo the buttons on the front of his pants. His face flared. I cupped his flushed cheek in my palm and pressed a kiss into his temple, slipping the last button out of its notch and then taking a step back in order to draw Tsuzuki's eyes to my own. I kept eye contact as I pressed my hands on either side of his hips and then slid down his body, drawing the black dress pants down with me. His fingernails pressed tightly into my hair.

"Muraki…" He hissed and then stifled a yelp as I drove my mouth against the soft skin of his inside thigh, lapping my tongue in a warm circular motion before drawing it upward and pausing at the hem of his simple white boxers. I hooked my long fingernails into the waistband and tugged the snug fitting material off before the bashful guardian could protest. "Muraki!"

I raised an eyebrow at him from my crouching position on the floor. "Why so embarrassed Mr. Tsuzuki? Do you think there's something under your clothes that I haven't seen before?"

"It's… just… I'm…" His stutter was completely endearing. I climbed back onto the couch and cupped his chin, drawing him close against me.

"You haven't had much experience in these matters. That's understandable of course." I said, planting a kiss against his mouth. I managed to keep it relatively chaste, though my body was craving something far more substantial by this point. It was hard to reign in my hormones when this divine creature was placed before me with that innocent look on his face and so blissfully naked. He kept his eyes locked on mine as I lay my body out on top of his and I watched in amusement as he started plucking at the buttons on my shirt, trying to undo them without much success. His hands were shaking too hard. "Relax, my love." I took his hands and placed them gently against my chest, rubbing my fingers across the ridged joints in an effort to calm him. "Take your time. Don't rush. Be at ease with this."

Tsuzuki shivered and slowly leant up, cupping my face between his lovely hands. He raised his face so that it was leveled equal with mine and looked me over as though accessing me. His eyes traveled across my chin and he allowed his nose to trace the areas he looked at, teasing me and oh so deliciously well. He finally observed mercy and pressed his mouth slowly to mine, succulent lips tasting and touching with tentative, arousing inexperience. Whilst he concentrated on my face, I used the distraction to sneak my hands down to his waist, his thighs aligned together beneath my body. I ran my fingers up his bare leg and onto his upper thigh, where I began to methodically stroke the soft slightly paler skin with my thumb. Tsuzuki moaned through our kiss and ever so shyly, spread his legs apart, enabling me to clench his thigh with my entire hand, alternating the strength of my massages between my fingers and palm. I sighed heavily, closing my lips so that I caught his own and drew on them, forcing the kiss to linger. Tsuzuki's index finger started stroking the hallow of my neck as my hands traveled up his thighs and down underneath his buttocks, lifting them off of the sofa and pressing his pelvis more forcibly against my own. His arms came around my neck as we kissed and little moans and gasps were falling from between his lips as I traced the divine slope of each buttock, running one finger teasingly through the indent between each but veering away before I glanced upon his virgin entrance. I moved my spare arm beneath his neck, lowering him back down against the soft cushions as we stared into one another's eyes, panting and void of even the slightest smile. The moment was much too passionate for smiling.

"Darling," I said. The word took me by surprise. I never called anyone 'darling.' It was such a horrid, false, patronizing title. Yet somehow, it seemed befitting when applied to Tsuzuki. And I needn't concern myself with the title 'Mister' either, which was a most refreshing change. My lips brushed up against his and I crooned for the mere delight of it. "Enough with all the words and the tears and the anger. Enough with the angst and the sorrow and the pasts we keep running from. Let us leave it all behind us. Let us make love and forget everything else but what we feel when we are warm and secure in each other's arms. Let me kiss you… taste you, touch you, make love to you…"

"… All right…" He whispered back.

…..

All right?

I drew away. "Mr. Tsuzuki…?"

He shook his head, arms tightening around my shoulders as he pulled himself up with me. "No, no, no, no, no, no…" He scolded, placing a kiss against my mouth and sighing as he nuzzled my neck. "No, no, no… call me what you called me before. Call me… darling."

Oh dear. "You're more drunk than I thought." I established, trying to untangle his arms from around my neck and get off of him all at the same time. I'd let my hormones get in the way of my common sense as per usual. Last time my flimsy emotions had allowed me to be stabbed by the very creature that was now twining about me like an amorous monkey.

I couldn't take him in this state. He would hate me for it once it was done. Would accuse me of taking advantage of him in his drunken euphoria. Which I had somewhat done already. I could not take any more of him, no matter how much I may have wanted to. Tsuzuki would never have agreed so readily to make love to me if he had been sober. And he certainly would not have begged me to call him darling, unless of course he was somewhat more comfortable and familiar with me. And we were not there yet.

Tsuzuki started ravenously tearing at the buttons on my shirt, popping one or two off of the material in his haste to touch my skin. He pushed his mouth on mine again when I raised my hands to stop him.

"No… no don't tell me you don't want me. If you don't want me then… then who the Hell does?" He pulled the halves of my shirt apart and placed his hands against my chest, stroking down across my pectorals, pinching at my flat nipples and roughly twisting them. He really was drunk. It was a nice sensation but the flimsy work with his fingers almost left me bleeding. "See? Doesn't it feel good?" It was more a plea than a question. "You said you wanted me. That's what you've always said. You can finally have what you want."

"So that you can forget?" I asked, perhaps a little cruelly.

He stared up at me, not understanding.

"You don't want me," I explained pulling his hands out of my shirt. "You're just trying to forget what happened with that kid today. Trying to find a way to stop feeling so bad about everything you've gone through, everything that has made you cry. Is that how you want this to be? You want to make love with me right now because you want to feel better?"

"Muraki…" Tsuzuki whined in a way that said I wasn't supposed to be asking questions. He tried to kiss me again but I avoided his tempting mouth.

"Do you really think this is going to make you feel better in the morning, when you realize what you've done? Who you have been with? I'm sorry but I won't let you get rid of me that easily. I will not let you regret anything that we do, Mr. Tsuzuki. I will not have you blaming it on anything. Not on me, not on how much you had to drink, nothing. You will come to me as your complete self and I will not have you hate me because I took advantage of you when you weren't thinking straight. That will be your punishment. You can't escape me, Mr. Tsuzuki. Even by giving me something that I want and something that you think you want right now. Here," I picked up the borrowed clothes from the floor and placed them gently in his hand. "Get dressed. I'm going to stand up and turn my back on you in order to calm myself down. Then I am going to get you a very tall glass of water."

I could feel his disbelieving stare burning into the center of my back as I got up and faced away from him, trying to ignore the aching throb between my inside thighs as he grudgingly changed back into his clothes. A part of me was screaming at the rational half, questioning why I hadn't sated myself in the fulfillment I had always dreamed of, when it had launched itself virtually into my lap and agreed to make love to me. True I had asked him but I had underestimated just how drunk he had been when I had spoken those words. I too had been intoxicated. Poisoned by his presence and the simplicity in which we had been able to touch and caress in the passion of new lovers who had no reason to doubt or hate or suspect one another of anything.

But, I knew very well that in the morning he would be the very same man who did doubt and hate and suspect me. Whilst a part of himself clearly desired me, there were too much incriminating emotions at play and bedding him in this state, at this point, would have only damaged him further. Not only would he hate that he had been unable to save Pandora, hate the cruel little reminder of his past but he would also hate himself for being so weak against my advancements. He would label me as the villain. But he would title himself as the all too willing participant in my crimes.

I looked over my shoulder to see that he was fully dressed. Drunk as he was, he continued to glare at me, face flushed from the embarrassment of his advancements being spurned. I approached him slowly, hands leveled at my sides.

"What's… so… wrong with me… that even someone like you… wouldn't want me…?" He asked in that slow, overly deliberate manner drunken people enforce to cover up their sliding grasp over comprehension. I cupped his face in my hand and angled my body closer, so I could see into his eyes.

"You are incredibly naïve, oh beautiful one." I said. I kissed his forehead and straightened up, turning away quickly before he lured me back down onto the sofa again with that confused and adorable expression. "I'm going to go get you that glass of water now."

I took the wine with me, though I knew there was no reason to. I poured him the glass of water, though I knew he wasn't going to drink it. And I took it into the lounge room to him, even though I knew that it was pointless to do so.

And by the time I came back, I still said what he had wanted to hear, even though he was gone by then.

"Darling…"

**-EC**

**Watari: **Aww, Tsuzuki! You went em-scray on Muraki-ay!

**Tsuzuki: **Yeah… well…he was tickin' me off!

**Watari: **Why? Because he wouldn't give you a check-up?

**Tsuzuki: **(Blushes) Watari, don't be gross!

**Watari: **You were the one who got naked up there, not me!

**Tsuzuki: **EXCUSE ME, but I was DRUNK! What's your excuse for having sex with that anonymous middle-aged git before you left for Kyoto?

**Oriya: **_What? _

**Watari: **(To Tsuzuki) I told you never to bring that up near Oriya!

**Tsuzuki: **This story is all about us telling the rest of the characters what happened at certain points before the situation occurred in the first chapter, so technically, he already knows!

**Oriya: **Oh yeah… so I do… (Looks up at content of chapter and groans) Dammit NaPap! This time you've gone too far! Look how long this damn chapter is!

**NaPap: **I couldn't help it! I had a lot that had to be finished in this chapter, so that I could keep on schedule! You and Watari are in the next chapter. I had to thoroughly sate the Tsuzuki/Muraki fans so that you guys get equal attention now.

**Watari: **Yay! Ori and I finally get to be back in the fic!

**Oriya: **And you had better not complain any more about not getting enough reviews, NaPap. Look how many you got for the last chapter! (Holds up reviews)

**NaPap: **(Counts) 27?

**Muraki: **Now, how many people did you have to bribe to get that many reviews?

**NaPap: **(Has already passed out from sheer joy)

**Watari:** (Pokes her with a stick and suddenly notices readers and flashes a 'V' sign.) Hello readers! Today is annual "Man Muraki feels like a Woman day!'

**Muraki: **It is not.

**Watari: **And in honor of "Man Muraki feels like a Woman day", we, your ever loveable and dependable Dark Adaptation stars would like to invite you, the readers, to participate by concocting your very own original tribute to Muraki at his most womanliness!

**Muraki: **No we wouldn't.

**Watari: **Ah, don't mind him. He's just crabby because NaPap forced him to refute Tsuzuki's advancement in the above chapter.

**Muraki: **I hate NaPap. I will kill her in her sleep, just like the fangirls that she based off of her friends and threw in the fic to torture me.

**Watari: **I think Olive-chan was the one who slapped you on the back, wasn't it? (Sighs) Phew, this was a long chapter, ne?

**NaPap: **(Passes out and starts snoring away, a half eaten brownie clutched in one hand)

**Watari: **She's exhausted. So am I for that matter, but keep checking in because coming up soon will be Chapter 12 where we tune back into the Kokakuro where I try my hand at being a waitress and Oriya tries his hand at being sexy! Will we succeed? Find out next time in Dark Adaptation!


	13. Oriya: Veiled touch that damned a dream

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer:** (Waves a bandaged hand) _Apparently, _I do not own Descendants of Darkness. I could have _sworn _that I did… …Really. And that's why I wrote fanfiction about it. Because I own it. And if I really wanted to see Oriya and Watari get together and have wonderful splendiferous yaoi, I could have put it in the show. Only I didn't because of reasons that escape me as of late. What were they again…? Oh yeah, that's right. BECAUSE I DON'T OWN IT. It's the truth. Please don't sue me anymore. Shenai wants to buy Silent Hill 4.

**Note:** Welcome back everybody! Thanks for tuning your dials in to another fun filled (though this is a rather restful addition) chapter of Dark Adaptation!

**Watari: **(Wearing a gaudy t-shirt with a big love heart on it, in which his and Ori's faces have been transferred) Ori and I are back! Yay, I missed seeing us!

**Oriya: **Whoot. (Waves little flag that says; "Go OriTari, GO!")

**NaPap: **The reviewer thanking will now be appearing at the end of each chapter although, sadly enough because I don't want to, I've been thinking about getting rid of the character reviewing reviews completely. I'm not sure if it is allowed and someone might have me booted if I keep up with it. And I really don't want to be booted. A friend of mine was booted lately and was really upset about it. So, maybe you guys can tell me whether or not it is allowed? It would be a sacrifice since I enjoy doing them but it wouldn't be worth getting thrown off of the site over.

Oh, and a special note goes out to my special minion **Jewell, **who sent me a review email, rather than an on site review! It was wonderful to read and I really enjoyed chatting with you! You can count on me to reply! I really hope you enjoy this chappie!

Anyhoo, on that note, on to the fic!

**Oriya**

When Watari had broken down on the outdoor deck, my very first thought had been to comfort him. Having grown up with two younger sisters, a younger brother and currently having two nieces and a nephew, this instinct had been somewhat ingrained into me. My tendency to become a weak limbed sucker at the sight of anything helpless; be it animal or human alike, had been a source of much amusement amongst my peers in my youth. I doted on children and anything that in my eyes could be perceived as in need of protection. I'd been raised raising my siblings and had babysat for both my sisters' children and Akemi's whenever they had need of me. And when it came to the handful of relationships I'd been able to maintain during my thirty-two years of living, my partners both male and female alike, had all possessed that same 'in-need-of-saving' quality, which was guaranteed to draw me in faster than a magnet to metal. I couldn't help myself. Weakness exemplified in others was my weakness and I would willingly take in anyone that needed protecting and give them a place to stay. It was how many of my girls had come to work at the Kokakuro as it were. My Uncle had been the same. He would have taken the world in, if it asked him.

I hadn't known Watari for very long but I get the feeling now, knowing him as I do, that he's not the kind of guy who it is difficult to get along with. A few hours and I was already subsequently fond of him, though deep down I never really thought he was my type. Carefree, outgoing and cheerful were all wonderful qualities that he possessed and I was certainly not adverse to that but I also similarly recognized an inherent strength in him, something that was tarnished within his psyche and purposefully pressed into the faces of those that he came into contact with. His manner of speech and his body language suggested that he was comfortable but it was the kind of security that came from knowing that he was capable of protecting himself, if the need ever arose.

He didn't have that 'in-need-of-saving' vibe about him.

And I didn't think at first that I could possibly engage him on the level that Muraki was asking of me, if he was beyond needing my protection. It's difficult to explain. It's not as though I require validation from my partner, to prove that I am strong enough, to enforce my bravado less settling for a more independent lover damage it. I do no expect to be catered to and fawned over and clung to in a scary movie, or any such nonsense like that. I certainly enjoy my own space. What it means to me is that in a partner, I would favor someone who essentially possesses the same softness around the inner edges that I do. Who isn't afraid to cry when something makes them sad and who is gentle and compassionate. When it came to giving my heart away, I liked knowing that the person I'd given it to would hold it gently and not crush it between their palms just to prove how little dependency they have on me.

Watari was no such person. I observed him as he went through the examination of the girls' bodies, calculating the injuries, collecting the evidence and cataloguing each and every little inconsistency he came across. All the while this usually cold and empathic ritual was proceeding he had spoken to the three dead girls as though they could hear him; though he knew very well that they could not. He'd adjusted his methods to suit them, as if they could feel the discomfort and he'd respected their modesty, arranging their clothes when he was done so that they were not lying there exposed in the cold dark room they had been found.

Most of the small talk I was sure he made for our benefit, his and my own, more so than the girls. He'd been hiding something about Seki; that much was certain. But the theories I had established as to the connection possibly existing there were more crazy and outlandish than the one's that came before it. Whatever the unique circumstances there, I came to realize that the long dead guardian was sympathizing with the plights of these people whom he did not even know. He embraced me as though he had known me for years and we understood each other, even though we may as well have been speaking different languages.

And when he collapsed on the outdoor deck, I saw in him what I had secretly been hoping to find. A vulnerability. This gentle soul had collapsed on his knees and was crying his eyes out for us. Maybe for himself at the same time.

And I had wanted him then. That had been the turning point for me. When Yutaka Watari became something more than a project Muraki had intended for me to undertake for his own personal benefit and instead became a real live person. A real live possibility. A creature I was capable of actually falling in love with.

It had been years since the last time I had ever allowed myself to think that way.

My heart told me to comfort him, whilst my head reminded me that I had a job to do. So, with his back to me, I retrieved the evidence from the case that Watari had cast aside in his haste to escape into the fresh air. Two of the bags containing the skin samples and the three semen samples. I slipped them into my pockets and then I sat down beside the guardian I had just betrayed, put my arms around his body and cried with him.

I felt like the biggest jerk on the planet.

I hadn't wanted to take the evidence, especially not from this man I barely knew. Watching the way he had treated everyone he came into contact with that day, the compassion and humor exuded in his voice and actions, revealed what a tender creature he was. I had grown fond of him quickly; of his sharp tongue, gentle disposition and considerate nature. But I needed to keep in mind the reason I had agreed to Muraki's request in the first place. To prevent him from taking further life. I wanted to find who had murdered my girls but I wanted to prevent the deaths of those that continued to exist in this world even more. My girls were dead; there was no changing that.

But I _could _take measures to prevent Muraki from killing again.

Sacrifices had to be made. That was my sin. And I was willing to wear that sin in the form of guilt as my retribution.

Normally I would have been able to live with this. But being around the lively genuine Watari and his simple, uncomplicated smile made me feel… dirty somehow.

I'd called in a favor with the local coroner and the bodies of Seki, Karu and Terumi had been taken away. The news of the murders was still unknown to the general public and I was doing everything in my power to keep it that way at least for a little while longer. Only a few close associates had any knowledge of the tragedy that had availed the Kokakuro. And the families of Karu and Terumi. Terumi's family had been devastated understandably by the news and was driving up to Kyoto the following day to confirm the identity of the body. Possibly also to tear chunks out of me. I think I deserved it at that point. Karu had never been close with her folks but they still appeared shocked by her murder. Her younger brother would also make his way to Kyoto the following day. I think he was more intent on confronting me then identifying the body. All in all, it had been one stressful day for Oriya Mibu of the Kokakuro. The anxiety in my mind manifested itself by a throbbing pain in my bung leg. Occasionally a sharp pain would shoot up and down the bone from ankle to knee.

I was having a difficult time disentangling the threads of my thoughts and it made it difficult to concentrate, which had never before been a problem with me.

I glanced up at the clock. Five-thirty five. At six we would start admitting customers into the Kokakuro. I had decided to open up business in the restaurant tonight, as a means of raising funds to deal with the dire financial straights the Kokakuro had come into since the murders. We would be allowing patrons to dine in the facility but further intimate activity with the girls had been delayed until a later date. The five remaining, experienced as they were, were none too eager to crawl under the sheets with someone only to be sliced across the throat. Until the perpetrator had been found, the Kokakuro had no secret identity. For the time being, it was going to be what it actually said on the label; 'An elite traditional restaurant.' Not so much elite even. The standards had dropped dramatically in that regard. When you have more money under your belt you can afford to be picky but not for anything less. An hour ago, I had placed the evidence in the work desk in my room, buried under a clutter of personal letters and bills that needed paying. I'd planned to return the evidence after a suitable amount of time had passed but I still felt awful. My heart felt as though I had thrown a heavy blanket over it. Every time I checked in on Watari during the day he'd been working at the computer, researching the sigil he'd found on the floor and trying to see if it matched any existing 'demon signatures' once broken down into separate portions. I didn't understand but I was relieved to hear that he wouldn't be analyzing the evidence until he had taken the requested samples from me and ruled me out as a possible suspect. I suggested that he delay doing so until he had thoroughly exhausted all possibilities surrounding the sigil. He had agreed with me and I planned to put off giving him my own samples until the very last minute. Cheap but it had to be done.

As jobs went, it was one of the least dirty tasks Muraki had asked me to perform. However it had to have been the most personally incriminating. This time I was helping a murderer other than Muraki get a head start on the Ministry of Hades. At the expense of my girls. And at the expense of this sweet natured guardian who smiled at me every time I passed the room where he was working so diligently.

My mind was divided over this situation I had come to find myself in. I couldn't uncover my reasons for accepting Muraki's request in the first place. It was an unusual request certainly. Why did he seem to think that Watari's absence would make any difference in his efforts to woe this Tsuzuki character? And who was to say that he wouldn't bring along another guardian as his escort? I suppose Muraki had already thought this through. Perhaps there was a reason why Tsuzuki would only bring Watari along with him. I imagine after the incident three months ago, none of the guardian's would have been exactly thrilled with Tsuzuki cavorting about with the slightly reformed serial killer with a medical degree. I would have to ask Watari about his feelings regarding Muraki and Tsuzuki's association.

I was working in the kitchen with the one and only remaining cook when Watari peeped his head inside and whistled at me. I ignored him. I'm not a dog. I don't come when people whistle at me. I sometimes won't even do it when they call my name.

He watched me carefully for a minute or two, his eyes boring into the center of my back as I sliced up the small handful of figs and set them to the side of the chopping board. I continued to act as though he wasn't there, focusing all my attention on making the slices even.

"Oriya?" Came the guardian's timid call.

I put the knife down and turned to face him, hand on my hip. "Why hello, dear Guardian of Death. What can I do for you this fine afternoon?"

He smiled congenially and adjusted his glasses by lifting up one of the lenses and releasing it. They bounced off of the crook of his nose before settling into place, even further down the arch then before. He didn't seem concerned however.

"I thought that you gave me all the knives in the establishment." He asked in what I took to be a cheeky tone. I stared back at him unwaveringly, wiping my hands off on the small towel I'd slung over the crook of my arm.

"Which was no easy task, I might so boldly say." Was my prim reply, as I cast the towel onto the bench beside me and retrieved the sharp cooking utensil and lowered it to resume my work. Then it clicked. "Oh… you mean _this_? No, no, no, no, no. All the knives you see currently are part of a new set I purchased today, after you appropriated all our old utensils. If we're to open up the restaurant, we'll need something to dice the food with and the Health Officials don't take kindly to us doing it with our teeth."

Yoshi, the cook, flashed a savage toothy grin, which earned him a chuckle from Watari and I.

"That's okay. I was just making sure that some of them hadn't slipped your mind." The blonde said, nodding apologetically at Yoshi. "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience and I promise I'll have your kitchen utensils back to you as soon as I've ruled them out as possible murder weapon suspects!"

"Mr. Watari is a detective. He's currently investigating the murders." I explained to Yoshi, who wasn't aware of our guests' side occupation. Who wasn't _supposed _to know. "Try and keep it to yourself though. _Very hush-hush_." I looked over my shoulder at the blonde head peeking through the doorway, my slicing movements never ceasing. "Is there anything else, cher? I hate to hurry you along but with only Yoshi here I'm having to help out as much as I can and there's a lot to get done. You know what they say; 'Time is of the essence.'"

"Well, actually I can help with that. You see, I'm done with my investigations for the night, so I thought I could help out in the restaurant! You said that you were seriously understaffed," Said Watari, giving me the biggest doe eyes I'd ever seen on a grown man. It was sickening. Even more sickening was the fact that it actually worked. "After all, I am supposed to be playing secretary duty!"

"Couldn't hurt…" Yoshi stated in that same tone of voice that usually preceded a disastrous ironic situation. "I'm sure the girls could teach him the fundamental basics before the customers start arriving. What do you think Mibu?"

"Well…" I mused as I swished aside the diced olive and proceeded on to the raw codfish, slicing vertically down its' belly and delving my hands inside to remove its' guts. I noticed Watari looking a little queasy, despite the fact that this very morning he'd been handling dead bodies. Wuss. "We _could_ use the extra hands…"

"Oh, you can count on me _and _my hands!" Watari boasted, thrusting both hands forward and wriggling his fingers confidently. "They're at your command, boss!"

Oh, the possibilities.

"Great, you can work Area 6." I declared, tearing the innards out of the cod and depositing them in a plastic waste bag near to my station. The 'Area's' in the Kokakuro referred to different sections of the restaurant, each of which would be assigned to a specific waitress. She would serve the customers in that section for the remainder of the night and would escort her patron to a private room in the evening. The girls were usually assigned to an area if an important VIP in that section had requested their company. However, since tonight the Kokakuro was open exclusively for dining purposes only, I did not have to concern myself with the assignment details.

"Area 6 should be fairly quiet," I elaborated, cutting the knife deep into the gills of the fish and slicing down. I did this on both sides and then tore the spine out, carefully as to avoid strewing bones throughout the meat. My cooking skills were good as far as I was concerned, but I would still never risk preparing the dangerous _fugu. _I left the blowfish dissection up to Yoshi and his years of culinary experience. "I have the girls covering Area's 1-5 which are usually the busiest. Fortunately, I won't have to worry about attending to anyone in the private roomsThat's always a pain in the ass."

"Language." Yoshi warned. If Akemi was my mother away from my mother, then Yoshi was my father away from my Papa.

"Well that's good to hear! 'Cause I'm already changed you know and 'twould be a real shame if I didn't get a chance to flaunt about in my brand new butler suit!" Watari exclaimed as he strutted into the kitchen like a peacock with a full fan of feathers. He spun in a circle showing off the very flattering and indeed _rather tight_ uniform I had chosen for him. Yoshi and I both put down our implements in order to show our appreciation with a couple of half hearted claps. Watari posed haughtily, flung his loose hair about and waved his hands in the air.

"Please, no applause just stick yen in the hem of my trousers," He crooned, pulling on the waistband a little bit. I reached over and biffed him lightly on the rear end with a wooden spoon.

"Now, now, don't go getting cocky, it's most unflattering." I warned as he checked his backside for the remains of anything that might have been on the spoon. I indicated the hatch that allowed anyone in the kitchen to see out into the restaurant. "I'll be here for the entire night with Yoshi, so don't expect me to be babysitting you and leadin' you about by the arm."

"Oh, no sir!" He declared quickly, standing straight and tall like a Soldier being told off by his Sergeant Major. I was sorely tempted to biff him with the spoon again but I restrained myself.

"When you take an order from our patron's, you must remember to kneel no less than four feet from the table and bow until your nose touches the floor. You do not speak unless you are spoken to. You do not initiate conversation, you wait until they register your presence and then you may converse when they place their order. You will be quick and concise in your table manner. Address them with the appropriate title. You may not under any circumstances forfeit this formality, even if they ask that you do. Keep your answers short and to the point. Do not argue with the patrons in regards to anything because as much blackmailing leverage as I have over them, there's only so many allowances I can make. Be respectful and courteous at all times. However, if you do not receive the same manner in return from your patron's, please, do not take the matter into your own hands, come to me and I shall resolve the situation swiftly and effectively. Are we clear?"

Watari saluted, his expression stern. "Yes sir. Permission to speak sir."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be a smart ass. What do you want to say?"

"Did you schedule a toilet break in there anyway or is a gentleman expected to hold it all evening?"

I shot a sharp glance at Yoshi who was threatening to encourage Watari's antics by laughing at this jocular display of ridicule. I turned back to the blonde and deflated his attitude a little bit by bringing the spoon down firmly on the middle of his cranium.

"Idiot." I accused as he wobbled about unsteadily from the blow, clutching the top of his head as though it were about to erupt like a volcano. His face got that sad abused puppy dog look again and his bottom lip trembled.

"O-ri-YAAA!" He sobbed, sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor and rubbing at the part between his hair. "You didn't have to crack my skull open you know!"

"No I certainly did not," I replied, turning back to the chopping board as a means of effectively concealing my smile. "But it certainly felt good."

"Not to me it didn't!" The blonde whined. He mooched up behind me and stuck his head under my arm in order to see my face. He caught sight of my smile. "Ha! I can see you're not angry! So don't pretend like you are, you dumb old cranky face!"

I felt my smile grow a little wider as I passed the remains of the codfish over to Yoshi to slice up. Then I tightened my arm around Watari's neck so that he was effectively trapped in the crook of my elbow. As he struggled to free himself from my grip, I relayed the rest of his instructions.

"When it comes to serving drinks please bear in mind that this isn't a bar but customers will often treat it as though it is one. They'll be demanding refill after refill, at least that's what I'm hoping. When they do, follow the policy I previously explained and then return here with the drink order, which I will prepare. The same goes for meals. They will be placed on the heating tray here and then you are to deliver them to the patron. Bow when you deliver the meal. However, it is not necessary for them to adhere to your presence. Just put the meal in front of their faces, bow and dismiss yourself from their company. You do the same for drinks. Understand?"

Watari managed to nod as he tried to pry my arm off of his throat. "Erp… yep, understood! Finding it… kind of hard to breathe though!" I relaxed the muscles in my arms, allowing him to breathe without obstruction. As he stood there, clasping my arm and gasping at the air, I reached down and removed a strand of his blonde hair from his line of sight with one finger. I trailed the nail over his jaw and then tapped at the hairline just behind his right ear.

"You should tie your hair back too." I recommended, wishing I could have delved my fingers into it but not wanting to trail fish guts throughout the pretty blonde locks. "I personally would not object to you keeping it out but there could be trouble if any customers were to find yellow strands of your hair wrapped around their food."

He looked up at me slowly, his face unlined and expression unclear. His large amber eyes looked straight into my own, the way they always did whenever he spoke to someone. I watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips and became acutely aware of how his pulse sped up. It sounded like drums inside my head, beating loudly and swiftly, becoming faster and faster the longer we stood there looking into each other's eyes.

"Oriya…" He spoke softly, his fingernails gently moving against my skin, tickling the hair on my arms. The pads of his fingers felt warm. His eyes shone like an animal who had closed in on its' evasive prey.

The kitchen door slid open and Akemi was standing there, tapping her bare foot impatiently against the floor. I could see she was already dressed for the evening, her formal kimono sanctioned securely around her toned body and short blonde hair brushed back from her face. The four other girls wore their hair up in buns but I wasn't about to suggest that to Watari. Just imaging how a bun would look along with those glasses made me think of my scary middle-aged high school teacher with the dodgy perfume and bout of halitosis.

"Beau, would you stop harassing that poor boy and get back to work? It won't be long before the patron's start arriving!" She extended her hand out to Watari and came towards us. "Aww, is that big old nasty Oriya being cruel to you?" The little brat actually had the gall to nod and make his bottom lip tremble whilst giving her the doe eyes. As usual, I'd emerged as the villain of the piece. "Never you mind, dear. Just come along with me now and I'll show you the ropes. We'll leave grumpy old Oriya to wallow in his fish guts and think about what he's done."

"I know where you live and I know how to make a check bounce," I threatened as she led Watari off by the hand. They both blew raspberries at me as they disappeared out the door.

It was the beginning of a long night for Yutaka Watari of the Judgment Bureau.

For one thing, he found out about ten minutes into the night, that no one followed my strict 'Customer/Employee' policy at all. The patrons' were so familiar with the girls by this point, that there was no bowing when they knelt by the tables and conversation flowed as easily as the warm saké we served. I didn't especially care. I'd only tried to impose it on Watari because he was new and it had taken years for the relationships between the customers and my girls to evolve into this casual affair and I thought it appropriate that he start out more professionally. But once Area 6 started to fill up and he got to know some of the folks he was working for, I gave up on him too.

They may have been mostly snobby upper class toffs but they were a great laugh and rather personable. Watari mixed very easily with them and was accepted right away into their conversations. They were genuinely interested in his association with the Kokakuro, his personal pursuits, what he did with his life before he came to work here, ho hum. In fact, he got so involved in one particular conversation that I hurled the wooden spoon at him through the nook and clonked him square on the head in order to remind him of what he was supposed to be doing. It got a lively response throughout the restaurant.

So far, my fears had remained unsubstantiated for the most part. The patrons were aware as to the particulars of the Kokakuro that night and knew better than to proposition any of the girls. These were mostly a few of the regular customers, those in business and politics, the VIP's who frequented but made it their own business not to inform their wives upon returning home. However, since the restaurant had lowered its' standards tonight in a desperate bid to make financial ends meet, we were getting our fair influx of less knowledgeable customers who knew that they'd finally managed to secure seats in the infamous Kokakuro; house of prostitution and that's all the mattered. Most of which arrived late. And most of which were seated in Area 6.

I tried to assure myself that Watari was safe from any advancements because he was male but even this did not put my heart at ease. I'd had male employee's work as waiters before and even they were not above attracting the advances of the more 'experimental' patrons who wanted to extend their palette so to speak. And Watari was such a pretty male at that. Though he had a definitively masculine structure his features were at the same time quite delicate and his long wavy hair and flirtatious peppy manner made him perfect fodder for the more unreformed types we'd admitted that evening. Several passes had already been made at Dai, Miyamato and Akemi and I was certain that some of those roving eyes in Area 6 would start putting already entertained thoughts into action.

My concerns were verified when two of my regulars; Yoto Seguchi and Ahiro Sakano arrived by limo and were seated in Area 2 where Akemi was assigned. As soon as she had taken their orders I excused myself from Yoshi's good graces and made my way over to their table to catch up with them. Yoto was a burly comely man of thirty-five whom, as a result of having no wife and children, was able to frequent the Kokakuro without feeling guilty about it. Ahiro had a fiancée whom he was quite serious about but had been a patron of the Kokakuro before he met her. Now Ahiro only came to the Kokakuro to dine, keep Yoto company and shoot the breeze with me. He was a nice enough man, with a broad expressive face whilst Yoto too had his positive qualities but could become quite the vindictive womanizer whence inebriated by one too many drops of saké. I sat by their table, unable to kneel because of my leg and we heartily discussed the upsides and downfalls of business. Ahiro ran a small land surveying company in Himeji. Yoto was his partner, who handled the majority of the fieldwork whilst Ahiro 'crunched numbers' as he so lovingly put it. We were laughing over something medial when Watari bounced past, balancing the small wooden serving tray in the crook of his arm whilst chatting animatedly to Sonja. He saw me seated beside the two men and shook a finger sternly in my direction.

"Shouldn't you be doing something constructive in that kitchen, Mr. Mibu?" He asked in what I guess he thought passed for a scolding voice. "Together Everyone Achieves More you know? That's the meaning of TEAM right there!"

"Oh, sod off." I shot back. He cast me a look of over exaggerated indignation and then stalked off in a huff.

"Don't think Akemi's not going to hear about this!" He cried over his shoulder, winking at me to show that he was just being silly. I waved primly as though to send him on his way and he disappeared into the kitchen, balancing the tray table on his head, much to the amusement of Yoshi who started mimicking him with a tray full of hot food. I knew this was going to end in tears.

Yoto slapped his saké cup down so hard against the table I was surprised it did not snap in two. Judging by his red cheeks I could see that he'd downed a fair few during our conversation. I berated myself for not monitoring him more effectively.

"New guy, Ori?" He asked as Watari re-emerged from the kitchen with another meal, blonde ponytail swishing behind him as he walked. I nodded.

"Yes. He's filling in for Samai. And doing a bit of odd work in the restaurant also, as you can tell."

Ahiro nodded nostalgically as he raised his cup to his lips. "So Samai's gone, huh? Was she one of the one's that were… well... you know?"

I shook my head. "No. That was Karu, Terumi and Seki. Samai resigned and went back home."

"Aww, geez not Seki," Yoto groaned, taking a sip from his cup. "She was gorgeous that girl. In all aspects, ya know? Just a nice person, straight up."

"Yes, she was a darling." I agreed, wondering if I would have the chance anytime soon to mourn her. Watari came flouncing back from Area 6 and gave a little wave as he made his way over to chat with Akemi. Yoto appeared to be observing him very carefully as he swirled the contents of his cup around and around the base in a never ceasing circle of contemplation. His eyes seemed for the most part unfocused but I got the feeling that his brain was working just fine, regardless of his body's surrender.

"You know… he looks a little like Seki, don't you think?" He mused, placing the glass down for a second. His finger traced the outline. "What's his name, this new boy you got?"

I wasn't sure whether I should use Watari's full name as someone might have made the connection with his death twenty-two years ago but he didn't seem altogether that concerned. I guess it could always be passed off as a very alarming coincidence if anyone thought to check.

"Yutaka Watari." I said wincing as a sharp pain erupted suddenly from my ankle, shooting all the way back up to my knee and then traveling into my thigh and jarring along the bottom disks of my spine. Ahiro noticed my discomfort.

"Your leg still causing you trouble, Oriya?"

I nodded and pushed a gust of air out harshly from between my teeth, rubbing the leg along the calf muscle and paying particular attention to the ankle.

"Yeah… it's never been the same since the accident." I sighed and blew a clump of my bangs out of my vision. "Hurts all the time but… it's easily dismissible." I flashed a small smile and then turned my attention back to Yoto. "I'm sorry, what were you saying? He looks like Seki? Do you think?" I looked over at Watari who was bouncing around on his toes as he Akemi and Dai chatted away over something. Probably shampoo. "Hmm… I suppose he does. But it's really only the hair in which I can see any similarity. Although… his eye color is very much alike… not to mention his personality. Seki was always on the energetic side, wasn't she?"

"Well I wouldn't know what this Yutaka is like but he seems nice enough. Good sense of humor from what I can tell." Yoto got that deviant look on his face and leant across the table to include me in his mischievous indulgences. "You've always been fairly sound at judging people, old boy. Tell me, what do you think of him? _Honestly._"

I glanced over at Watari, shrugged and continued to massage my ankle. "Honestly? He's just a regular guy next door. He's very nice, intelligent… has a doctorate… erm… good sense of humor as you can see… Very compassionate, gets on well with people…"

"Yes, yes, that's all well and lovely Mibu but I was actually angling to hear something a bit more frothy than _that_." Yoto sniped, sounding as though he were disappointed in my lack of imagination. Ahiro rolled his eyes from behind his cup, as though nothing less was expected from Yoto Seguchi.

I raised an eyebrow. "By… _frothy_… I assume you want me make a personal judgment on his physical assets. Would I be right in saying so?"

"Hey, now we're talking!" Yoto cheered, flapping the flat of his hand against my chest. I wiped my yukata off as I peered over at Watari. Scoping someone out just so I could relay my thoughts on their 'form' to an associate felt all too much like I'd regressed back to high school. Though Muraki and I had never been your typical teenagers granted.

"Well?" Yoto prompted as my eyes traveled all over Watari's body in visual rape. "Oh come on, Oriya! How long can it possibly take to ascertain a desirable physical feature about _that_ guy? Sheez, you'd think I'd asked you to deconstruct the lost language of the Inca's! Just tell me what draws your eye!"

Well I could have mentioned his long blonde hair, or his pretty eyes or his long legs and slender waist but of course me being me, I had to mention the one aspect which had me labeled 'King Kyoto Pervert forever' for the rest of my natural born days.

"He has a nice bum."

Yoto looked positively delighted and I got a jolly smack across the shoulder for my honesty. As soon as the words left my mouth I knew I'd made an awful, un-erasable mistake.

"Uh… which is to say that…"

"Which is to say that you wanna fuck him!" Yoto crowed, delivering a complimentary smack of celebration to Ahiro and causing him to upend most of his saké into his lap. "That's the first thing you noticed? Well we all know where your mind is at Mibu!"

All right, now that was going too far. He was all but yodeling that I wanted to have untamed and frantic sex with Yutaka. Of _course _I wanted to have untamed and frantic sex with Yutaka but he didn't have to declare it for the whole world to hear. It made me sound kind of shallow.

"That is ridiculous!" I declared, climbing to my feet and wincing again from the stabbing pains in my left leg. "I refuse to dignify those statements with a response."

"Ah, that's what they always say when they're trying to deny the truth!" Yoto stated as he stared up at me defiantly. Ahiro was reaching one hand over the table and trying quietly and ineffectively to calm him. I turned on my heel.

"This conversation is forfeit." I snapped, hoping that no one in the vicinity, namely my blonde haired guest, had heard any of the previous exchange. Yoto called over to me even as I was walking away.

"Well, if you're not keen, mind if I take a crack then?"

I ground my teeth together to keep from saying something I'd regret. Honestly, it was school all over again. 'No' meaning, "Yes" and Yes meaning "_Hell YES."_ A negative was just a shy affirmative whilst a hesitant affirmation usually meant you wanted them here and now in a kinky _ménage e cinq_. I was in the mood to punch something. And my leg was still throbbing.

I stalked back into the kitchen, the loose strands of my hair breezing out behind me as I walked. Yoshi knew better than to say anything when I had that irritable look on my face and simply continued working as though nothing was out of the ordinary. I picked up the stray knife I had left behind previously and set to work slicing up some beef strips for a stir-fry that I was preparing. I was so angry and worked up that I cut about two inches into the chopping board before I managed to get a handle on my emotions. The door slid open behind me and I eased my chin up over my shoulder to admit the intruder into my sight.

Watari stepped into the kitchen, his expression deeply concerned.

"Are you all right, Ori? You seem upset." He took a few steps closer, arms crossed casually over his chest whilst he tilted his body non-threateningly in order to bring his face closer to me. "Were those men saying ugly things to you?" His voice got lower. He sounded angry, as though he had a bone to pick with Yoto and Ahiro now just for the mere suggestion that they may have imposed some form of insult on me.

I continued to chop the beef, not wanting to appear rude but at the same time feeling awfully guilty for the unknown pervasion I had leveled against the sweet natured blonde only moments before. I was undeserving of such concern.

Was I to be honest? Or was I to veil the details of our discussion to preserve my credibility? I mused over that momentarily and in those few seconds, Watari had come even closer to me. I wondered whether guardian's had the ability to move more rapidly than mere mortals because he had covered five or so feet without appearing to have adjusted the stance of his body at all. I still couldn't think of what to say. My leg ached. I couldn't concentrate. The knife in my hand flashed, the silver blade winking in the above light as it cut downward, each slice becoming faster and faster even to my own eyes. I was damn near biting through my lip.

What the hell was wrong with me? It seemed as though I was losing control of my body. Yoshi had stopped what he was doing to stare at me, the knife in his hand dripping juices from the meat he had been cutting. Watari was moving closer and closer in that way he did, without even moving his feet. I could feel sweat breaking out on my forehead.

"OW!" My cutting spree came to a standstill as I felt the sharp blade of the knife slice through the skin of my thumb. I looked down at the cutting board. All the meat was neatly sliced. Each individual strip was identical to the last. The slices were perfect. My precision and reflexes had always been phenomenal but this… this was beyond even me. I had done it in about ten seconds without even thinking about it. The wooden chopping board had been divided into at least six separate sections; the tiny knife stained red in my hand had not even bent from the thick wood. I had performed a routine chore at an unmanageable and powerful speed. So powerful I had cut through wood with a small thin blade and had not even registered it.

"Oh, Ori you're bleeding!"

I glanced at my thumb. Blood was welling out from the thick vertical slice and sliding in a three-branched prong down my hand. I quickly moved it away from the food, only to find it wrapped between Watari's own warm palms. His eyebrows were furrowed as he applied pressure to the small cut, gesturing to Yoshi wildly with his head. "'S'cuse me! Do you have a first aid kit in here?"

Yoshi was still staring at the chopping board, stunned. His eyes went from the mutilated wood, to my hands and then to my face.

"Tell me I'm just getting old, Mibu." He suggested uncertainly.

"You're just getting old, Yoshi." I repeated, gratified that my voice emerged cool and even from my lips. I was shocked by my slip. I was usually in complete control of my disability.

It had been happening more and more regularly since the incident in Kyoto three months ago. When I thought Muraki had been killed. I couldn't maintain my disability when I was stressed. Anxiety had a tendency to send it flying in all directions, which was very dangerous in my particular situation. I certainly wasn't the only one in the family to receive this double-edged sword but it supposedly grew weaker as the line grew longer. However, I'd been blessed with the gifts of my forefather's at their strongest, whereas my parents, my two sisters and my younger brother all possessed weaker elements of the Mibu disability.

It allowed them to live fairly normal lives. And whilst they tended to look on me as 'gifted,' my disability had ruined everything in my life I had promise for.

I could feel my mind quaking to the very boarders. Somewhere, deep inside of me I had started to lose control of my dangerous, powerful gift.

Yoshi handed Watari the first aid kit and the pretty blonde immediately propped it open on the bench and started to search through it. "Ah, you silly sod, you've nicked yourself quite well there haven't you? Keep the pressure up… ah, here we go!" He pulled out a small roll of thin bandages and a yellow BandAid, decorated with little ducks holding umbrellas. I responded with an eloquent; "Eh?"

He cleaned the little cut first and then went to put the BandAid on. I pulled my thumb away and then held it up to his face.

"It still hurts." I told him. Which was true, though in light of my training in Aikido and kendo, a little cut on the finger was nothing. Watari made light of this as he gently took my hand and gave it a condescending pat.

"Aww… did the big tough samurai get a boo-boo? He needs to be more careful when playing with knives then, because sharp pointy kitchen utensils can be lethal to human beings you know?" He grinned at me and then planted a small kiss on the cut, wrinkling his nose at the taste left behind by the chemical he had used to clean it with. "Yuck! Remind me next time when I kiss and make better to do it _before _I clean up your mortal injuries! Now, let's get that finger covered up so you can get back to cooking without dripping your vampire blood all throughout people's meals."

"I'm not a vampire." I informed him wearily, prying open my mouth and pointing out my canine's. "Maybe if I was, I wouldn't have needed so many fillings as a kid."

"Well that's what you get for eating so much candy, you naughty boy!" The blonde said in a way that somehow managed to sound sexually insinuating. He finished wrapping my finger and packed the left over supplies back into the case. "Voila! It's out of my hands now Mr. Mibu but I believe that you may just survive this harrowing experience. Take two kiddie's aspirin and call me in the morning!"

Sarcastic sod. "Thankyou doctor, you were wonderfully attentive."

He beamed. "Better than Muraki, right?"

I wondered if he had some kind of internal competition going with Muraki. I decided to indulge him if in fact he did and nodded. "Of course! Muraki _never _kissed my injuries better. I believe I shall recover twice as fast due to your attentive care."

"You know it!" He replied spunkily. "So, why did you get so worked up for in the first place? Were those men being nasty to you? Would you like me to go and have words?"

I laughed at the image and shook my head. "No, that won't be necessary. Believe me I have been perfectly capable of handling my own disagreements long before I met you young Yutaka. Besides, it wasn't an argument per say… more so…" I paused, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

"'More so,' what?" Watari pressed, his face incredibly naïve and unaware. He looked so adorable with that expression that I couldn't help but smile. He appeared even more confused as I chuckled softly under my breath.

"What is it? Did I say something funny?" He asked putting his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow at me. I shook my head a little to discourage his annoyance.

"I'm sorry… you just looked so cute." I chuckled again as a pink flush spread across Watari's face, on the pale rise of his cheeks just beneath the lower arch of his glasses. He bit his lip, smothering an embarrassed sound that might have been a giggle. He was a lovely little creature. His blush spread outward even further as I leant forward and pulled him in close to my body, squeezing him like I would a soft toy and murmuring my satisfaction. "Ahhh… you're something. You know that don't you?"

"Well… it's always nice to have it reconfirmed!" He squeaked. I could feel his hands quivering at my sides as though he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to hold me or not. I reached one hand down to take his fingers and wound them around my waist. "It's all right. You can touch me if you want. Don't be afraid to."

I waited for his reaction and was rewarded by the feeling of his body slowly relaxing against mine. I could sense his eyes shutting and the weight of his head came to rest in on the center of my chest, his fingers tentatively tapping at the ridges of my spine through my yukata, as though they were the keys of a piano. And that was no tune of 'Chopsticks' that he strummed out with the flow of his fingers. He had some experience and knew how to produce the most complicated and rewarding tune in my body. It sang through every influx of nerve endings, awakening the usually slow and methodic pulses that lined my blood and muscles until all my being danced to the rhythm of his fingertips. He ignited a spark in me that had not been alight for so many years now. Even the aching of my leg and the blanket over my heart surrendered to this powerful and unobtrusively passionate feeling.

I looked down at him. He was holding me the way I might have held a lover I had known for years rather than just a day. He wasn't afraid to care for someone with the intensity that I would only exhibit only after a certain amount of time had expired. There was a smile on his face as though he'd entered through the gates of Heaven when I had admitted him within the fold of my arms.

I ran my uninjured hand across the crown of his head, inhaling the clean scent of his hair. I liked this sense of closeness. I liked that this long dead creature was able to bring to life in me the long dead desires I had lain to rest those many years ago. And I liked that he didn't seem to want anything in return from me. Only this. Only this simple happiness, which cost no money but was the richest most rewarding gift that anyone could give. The chance that someone could hold you and you wouldn't concern yourself with their ulterior motives or what negative thoughts they may or may not have been entertaining about you. It was nice to put it simply, to be around someone with whom you felt so comfortable. Who you felt comfortable in knowing that they were content in admitting you without any bias thoughts and you could so easily just take them into your arms and not have them judge you.

I felt that if Yutaka Watari loved you, he could forgive you anything.

"Hey, come on guys. I have to prepare food here you know." Yoshi said grimly, trying not to look a little disturbed by the display. He'd always known that I have loved both men and women but in any case I was never an exhibitionist with my feelings. Hugging in public for me was a big deal, not that Watari would have known that.

Watari stuck his tongue out at the cook and lifted his head from my chest to look into my face. I didn't let him go. I folded my hands together and clamped them into the hollow of his back, keeping his body pressed against mine. He looked happy to remain there and casually rested his hands in the center of my chest. Whatever he had been about to say, suddenly went by the way side.

"Ooh… defined…" He mused like a brain dead bimbo, running his hands down my chest. He continued moving them until they settled on my stomach and I bit back a grin from the tickling sensation caused by his groping fingers. "You don't even have a little tummy like me! You have a beer belly!"

I nearly nailed him into the floor.

"A _what_!"

"You know, like a six pack of beer!" He sang with a big smile, not realizing that he had swiftly ducked the scythe of the Grim Reaper for the second time running. His eyes widened. "You didn't think I meant a keg, did you?" He held out his arms as far from his body as he could, wobbling from side to side in his impression of an individual with a large stomach. "You silly bugger! You don't have a keg! I don't think you have a shred of fat on you!"

I arched an eyebrow. "If you would like to be sure of your hypothesis doctor, perhaps I could arrange a thorough check up with you sometime. You do make house calls, don't you?"

Wow, now that was bold, especially for me. I wasn't renowned for flirting. I could blackmail better than just about anyone on the damn planet but when it came to sending signals my sister said it best when she told a previous girlfriend; "He couldn't flirt his way into a Sexual Addicts Club." I would have taken her up on that but I was afraid she would have won the bet, which would have sent me into hiding for the rest of my life.

Watari went red again but he was laughing at the same time. "Well, I suppose I can make room on my busy schedule for you one of these day's. You're in for a grave disappointment though if you think I'll be dressing up in one of those sexy nurses outfits for you."

I smiled. "That's quite all right. You just wear your lab coat and I'll be one very satisfied patient." Oh my, Yoto was right. My brain was down a very dirty alleyway at this point, waiting to drag the poor helpless Yutaka behind a wheelie bin to have its' way with him. I needed a good smack around the head. Specifically. Anywhere else at this point would only work to further provoke my condition.

Watari was still blushing when he leant up to give me a little kiss on the cheek. My hand slid slowly down his spine and came to rest on his buttocks, my fingers spreading out to gather the soft flesh in a brief squeeze. I hadn't been lying to Yoto; the guardian did indeed possess a very well defined backside. I could feel Watari's hands rubbing at my bare arms, pausing to let his thumbs massage my funny bone and fingers to trace the rough skin of my elbow. The blood finally left his face as his thoughts turned from casual flirting to what we had been previously discussing.

"Oriya are you sure there is nothing you want to tell me about those men? I heard a few snippets of your conversation. I wasn't trying to listen in or anything but I caught a name here and there…"

This brought me back to reality. I turned my face a little, regarding him from the corner of my eye, my thumb rubbing a gentle circle against his buttock. He didn't seem embarrassed by the act. "Such as…?"

If he noticed the caution in my voice he didn't show it. The movements with his hands never ceased. "You mentioned Seki and Karu… you must have mentioned Terumi too. Do they know about the murders?"

"Yes. They were the first two I informed. They have some links with the police. They've helped me keep a lot of this quiet so far."

"I also heard my name."

"Ah." I said simply. He was sharp; I'd give him that. Because he was so breezy and energetic, it kept slipping to the side of my thoughts the reality of Watari's presence here. That he _was _investigating the murders and that he _was _going to be paying close attention to the conversations that took place in the restaurant, in case any one of my patron's had something to do with it.

I indicated casually at Yoto through the hatch and Watari followed my gaze. Yoto's eyes had been on us the whole time, or more specifically, they had been on Watari. He'd been staring so intently that I wondered whether he was counting his eyelashes. Watari cocked his head, clearly unaware of the attention being mentally lavished upon him.

"He asked me to indicate whether or not I had a physical attraction to you." I told him, blurring the specifics of the conversation slightly. When I knew Watari a little better I would gladly compliment him on his stunning posterior and to his face at that. "He is attracted to you himself. He has been watching you carefully for quite some time now."

"He needs to get his eyes checked then." Watari grumbled as he gave my arm a little squeeze. "If his eyes should be on anyone, they should be on you. You're the best looking thing in this restaurant tonight."

If I was the blushing sort, I undoubtedly would have gone red at this comment. As it was, I just smiled at him and gave his bottom a little pat.

"What a kind thing to say." I said. "But I am not misleading you. I don't think you realize how precarious your presence is in this kind of place. You're just the right kind of… _compromise _that some men look for."

He looked at me, clearly confused. "Right kind of 'compromise?' What ever do you mean by that?"

I laughed and put both hands on my hips, shaking my head a little. "You are border line between being both naïve and brilliant my dear guardian. And I don't think you are nearly as innocent as you pretend to be." I gave his nose a little flick and he flashed just the hint of a smile as if to say that my suggestion had merit. Then he straightened his glasses.

"Were he and his friend close to any of the girls did you know?"

I knew what he was getting at but I didn't say anything about it, remaining purposefully ignorant. "Yoto, that's the one who has been looking this way, was very fond of Seki. She was his favorite."

I watched to see if there was any visible reaction in Watari but I was kind of disappointed to see him only nod as he rubbed his chin with the bridge of his index finger, as though mulling over something. His face was closed in.

"And the one whom is with him?"

"Ahiro Sakano. Used to frequent the Kokakuro but now only comes here to dine and accompany Yoto. He's engaged now but his favorite used to be a girl whom no longer works here. She left after the murders."

I saw Watari's face open up as though a flower had bloomed right in the very center and he gave a short laugh, which was every bit as carefree as a young child who'd just received a new Christmas present.

"Well, I should very much like to go and introduce myself." He said at hand, making his way over to the kitchen door and sliding it open. "I think I'll ask them a few questions concerning the murders. Would you accompany this young man, Oriya? He wouldn't want to intrude on those old snobs if they don't want his company."

"Would you show a little more respect?" I scolded, moving over to the doorway and grabbing his arm to keep him from getting too far ahead of me. "They're not old, Yoto is a year younger than me and Ahiro is two years older. And calling them 'snobs' is really a matter of opinion."

"I guess if you were a snob you might not think they were snobby." Watari mused as we made our way out into the restaurant. I got the feeling that half veiled comment was being leveled at me and didn't appreciate it. He got a hard pinch in the arm for his efforts. I knew it was too much to hope that it bruised.

We approached the table, me keeping one hand on Yutaka's inside elbow at all times. Yoto had been talking with Ahiro before we'd arrived but accepted our presence with favorable hospitality.

"Oriya, nice of you to join us again." He said cheerfully as I guided Watari onto his knees at the head of the table. I bobbed my head momentarily and placed my hand on Yutaka's lower back, pushing forward a little to persuade him to bow deeply. The blonde's back was as stiff as a board. Either he didn't get the hint or he was purposefully ignoring me. I pinched his inside elbow to get him to pay attention but he just flashed me a dirty look.

"Are you in a better mood now?" Yoto asked conversationally, seemingly unperturbed by Watari's reluctance to bow. He took a sip from his saké and leered over the curl of the cup. "I'd certainly be piped up after all that attention you were getting in the kitchen."

_I'm sure you would be._

Ahiro sensed the tension and was kind enough to break it by bowing his head at Watari from across the table. "Oriya told us a little about you. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Watari. My name is Ahiro Sakano and this somewhat socially unfit gentleman across the table is Yoto Seguchi."

Instead of bowing back, Watari merely grinned and made a 'V' sign with his fingers. "Pleasure! Nice to meet you both!" He trilled, flashing a wink that managed to include them both. I buried my face in my palm, wondering if I pinched him hard enough his arm would fall off. That way he might start taking the situation seriously.

Yoto was delighted by Watari's break from social norm however. "Aren't you the sweet one?" He observed, drinking in his body as steadily as the saké in his hand. Watari's smile never wavered, but rather grew until it very near wrapped itself around his head and tied itself in a bow at the back. But he didn't blush. This to me appeared very telling. It suggested that he was not taking Yoto's comments to heart like he did mine.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." He said confidently which froze both men in their actions. Watari had handled that compliment more capably then they had been expected. Because he was blonde and posing as a secretary I assumed that deep down they had adopted this manner because they took him to be a bimbo, regardless of my mentioning that he had a doctorate. After the initial shock wore off, both men laughed and there was humor in their tone.

"I would like to ask you both some questions. If you wouldn't mind?" Watari asked with that still same smile on his face. The more I observed him, the more concerned I became over the smile. There was something wrong with it. There was too much warmth in it. So much warmth, it appeared entirely counterfeit.

Both men exchanged glances. Ahiro set down his drink and edged closer to the end of the table, inclining his dark head. "In regards to what?" He asked carefully and you could tell that he was already suspicious of Watari. I wrapped my fingers around the blonde's elbow again and held them there, prepared to distribute a squeeze if I thought he was heading in a dangerous direction. I wasn't sure what approach he was going to take in addressing his questions to the pair but regardless of his intelligence, I still felt somewhat obligated to guard him against possible trips.

"I'm looking into the murder's that occurred here at the Kokakuro," Watari said smoothly, lowering his voice so that the four of us were the only one's included in the conversation. Ahiro's brows furrowed even more.

"Are you with the police?" He asked slowly and I distributed a pinch into Watari's inside elbow, trying to remind him without words of what I had just told him in the kitchen. That these two men, Ahiro specifically, were keeping the police out of it. That the murders were not public knowledge yet. Watari flashed me another dirty look and pinched me back, right on the thigh. Hard enough to leave a good bruise. His expression told me that I deserved it.

"No sir." He said to Ahiro and the other man relaxed about two hairs. "Can you keep a secret? Oriya hired me. I'm a private investigator, as well as being a super swell secretary! Would you mind indulging me and answering a few questions?"

Ahiro said, "Certainly," as he rested back comfortably onto his mat. Yoto winked.

"I'd be happy to indulge you, poppet."

Watari winked back. "Now, aren't you guys the good sports?" Before I could so much as impose another painful little reminder about being courteous before VIP's, Watari had pulled three small head shot photo's from the inside pocket of his vest and set them out on the table slowly, face down. He proceeded to flip them over, one at a time and then face down again once he had left them exposed for thirty seconds at the most. Ahiro and Yoto studied them carefully.

"Oriya tells me that you sir, was a patron here before your engagement. Congrats by the way!" Ahiro smiled as Watari gave a little clap of appraisal. "And that you, Mr. Seguchi, are currently still attending, no?"

"That is correct." Yoto confirmed as he filled up his glass to the brim. Watari flipped the pictures over again.

"What I would like to know, is whether or not either of you associated with any of these three girls after hours?" He gave both men a very stern once over. "From the information I have gathered so far, I have learnt that these girls went out the night that they were murdered but then returned to the Kokakuro possibly with the people they met. Judging by the lack of any signs of struggle in the room, it is possible that the girls were already familiar with the people they had met. I am not suggesting that either of you gentlemen are responsible for what has happened here. What I am hoping to find out is if these three had a particular haunt that they liked to frequent. Going there might be a first step in the right direction."

I was pleasantly surprised at how calm and courteous he was being towards Yoto and Ahiro. I watched as both men looked the pictures over again and became aware of how intently Watari was studying their faces. Searching for something that might incriminate them, or reveal their involvement. But these men were very much like me. We'd learnt long ago had to maintain an impenetrable poker face.

Ahiro pointed at Terumi's picture and then Karu's. "I have been with these two on separate occasions. Though it was years ago now." He examined Seki's picture. "I have not been with her. Terumi and I went into Kyoto together once. We visited a club called, '_Ra's Sunline_.' … Come to think of it, she did mention that she and some of her friends visited the place on a regular basis. But as I said, it was some time ago."

"Better than nothing." Watari encouraged, whipping out a pen and paper from the opposite pocket that he had pulled the photos from and scribbling down the name of the bar. "Thankyou very much, sir. And you, Mr. Seguchi? Is there anymore that you could add that may be of help in the investigation?"

Yoto pointed to Seki's picture. "I have been with Seki almost every visit to the Kokakuro. We talked about a lot of things but we never met after hours." He gazed out thoughtfully over the rim of his drink. "It's hard to believe any sonofabitch, s'cuse my language, was capable of hurting an angel like that. I always said she was in the wrong place. Guess the arrogant part of me thought that I could save her but… ah, she didn't want saving. Didn't need it, she said. That's the kind of girl Seki was though. Life here was a blessing, she said. Why save her from a blessing? Told her I'd marry her and take her out of here but I knew she'd be happier here then she ever would be with me."

This was news to me. I'd never known Yoto had such strong feelings about Seki before.

Watari cocked his head at Yoto, his smile soft. "That was a very kind gesture, Mr. Seguchi. Did you love her?"

He nodded, his thoughts way back somewhere in the past where I had never reached, though I'd never been anywhere else. There was so much I had missed between these walls.

"I thought I did. Still think I do. I told her once and she just smiled, way you're smiling now and kissed my cheek."

"Did she love you?"

Watari's expression had come down. These questions he seemed to want the answers to more than he had the previous one's.

Yoto sighed. "Said she did. Said she loved me but… didn't need me. Seki always told me that she only ever needed the support of the people around her and never the support of one. She seemed to think that one person alone could never give her all that she needed. However, if you put your faith in people as a group, then there's always someone to depend on. Even if someone dies. Even if someone fails you-''

Watari stood up suddenly and bowed so deeply his upper body was parallel with the floor. I could hear his breaths shuddering.

"Yutaka?" I asked uncertainly.

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Watari said quickly, his head still bowed and eyes hidden beneath the loose tresses of hair left free from his ponytail. He was trying so hard to sound composed but his voice quavered under the weight of whatever emotions he kept concealing. "Thankyou very much for answering my questions. That's all of your time I'll be needing. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He didn't straighten up.

"Watari?" I stood up and moved next to him, leaning my face down to try and see his expression. His breaths were labored.

"Can you take me back to the kitchen please Oriya?" He asked so softly I barely heard him. I nodded and placed my hand atop his stomach and the other on the back of his neck, gently pulling his upper body back into alignment with his waist. As his face came up, I saw that his eyes were blurry behind his glasses. But he flashed me an encouraging smile regardless.

"Phew… thanks. Bad back, y'know? Shouldn't bow so low when you're as unfit as I am." He was lying but it wasn't exactly any of my business to ask why. I nodded my head at both Ahiro and Yoto; picked up the photos and the notepad Watari had left on the table and handed them back to him. He tucked them both into his pockets, smiled gratefully at me and we started to make our way back to the kitchen. I'd had years of experience concealing my emotions, so I knew very well when somebody else was doing it. I noticed the ritualistic straightening of Watari's spine, the corner of his bright and very fake smile quivering to keep from being tugged into a slope, his eyes trying to fight back tears. Something Yoto said had really rocked him. Something personal. I could no longer believe that Watari's sadness stemmed from his sympathy of our plight alone. Something was troubling his soul and shaking his heart very deeply. I wanted to reach out, pull him against me and rock him in my arms regardless of where we were. The poor darling was trying to be so brave and he was attempting to fight off something very incriminating all on his own.

That blanket over my heart grew even heavier with the sadness in that guardian's eyes.

And of course it had to have been that moment when he was dealt a very disrespectful blow.

The restaurant had been hopping with excitement; discussions and theories spitballing off of the corners and ricocheting from table to table. I put down what happened next to this enthusiasm and the fact that tonight some of the more unruly residents of Kyoto had been allowed admittance into the Kokakuro and were treating it like a public bar, since they seemed to think our standards had dropped as a result of our doors opening wider. And it happened to be at that select moment when Watari was feeling a little sensitive, that one of the newbies; a broad man with jet black hair and ruddy features, slid his hand up the back of the blonde's thigh and stole a firm squeeze of his buttocks.

That sort of thing just doesn't happen at the Kokakuro.

Watari's reaction was a little unexpected. He was a confident and capable chap but I just don't think he had it in him to put the guy in his place just then. He merely frowned, blew a strand of hair from his face and then in a surprise move, picked up the guys bottle of saké from the center of the table.

I could see where this was going. He was going to bring that bottle down on the offender's head, which would only cause trouble for him. Not that he wasn't justified for doing so of course. Fortunately, I have handled this sort of situation more times then I'd care to name and it only took a second before I had my fingers wrapped around the young man's wrist and had yanked his hand away from Watari, pushing the lithe blonde back with my arm at the same time. Watari stared at me in amazement and then followed the line of my arm until it ended with my rigid fingers squeezing more and more tightly around the patron's thick wrist. I didn't see why he should have looked so stunned. I tightened my grip until the young man started yelping in pain, letting him know the full seriousness of what he had done.

"Now that I have your attention, I would like you to apologize to this gentleman," I said indicating to Watari with my head. The patron attempted to yank his hand away but I held on tight.

"Let me go!" He yelped, his ruddy face getting even darker as my grip increased. "Come on man, I didn't mean nothin' by it!"

"You'll get your hand back when you apologize." I stated, seating myself down on the corner of the table and casually examining the nails of my free hand whilst the man struggled against my hold. I crossed my legs and relaxed every muscle in my body except for the one's in my hand. "I could sit here all night you know, just making my fingers tighter – '' I tightened them. " – and tighter – '' again I tightened them. Tears were springing in the young man's eyes. " – I could happily sit until dawn if I had to. I can go four days without sleep. And I can make sure that you do too. If that's how long it takes to get an apology out of your grimy little mouth I'll do it."

"Why should I apologize? Because I didn't _pay _the damn guy before I touched him!" The man shouted between his tightly clenched teeth. Now we had the entire restaurant's attention.

My eyes narrowed. "You should apologize because you do not touch anyone in this establishment without their permission. It's the rule. You shall treat everyone here with the courtesy and respect that you would accord your own mother. Is that understood? Now, am I to hear an apology from your smart mouth, or shall I escort you outside?"

I didn't get an apology. The guy actually had the gall to take a swing at me. Because of my reflexes, not to mention the pain I was inflicting on his caged wrist, the blow seemed to take a million years to come towards my face. I had plenty of time to move out of the way but to anyone watching it must have happened in a split second. When time sped back to normal, I had the man on his feet, both wrists pinned behind his back as though I were a policeman making an arrest. I started herding him towards the door, damn near lifting him off of his feet when he tried to slow me down.

"Get your damn ass out the door," I told him coldly, twisting my head back to the table where he had been seated and glaring at his friend. "And you – feel free to go with him. That sort of behavior is not condoned at the Kokakuro. Perhaps you would feel more at home at a bar, or even a nice dingy alleyway. I'll give you one more second to apologize before I stop being polite."

"Go to Hell!"

"All right, if that's the way you're going to be." I continued on towards the door, pushing the ruddy-faced man before me whilst his wiry blonde haired companion trudged along behind me. As we reached the door and I pushed it open with my hand I decided to say a word to him. After all, he hadn't been the one to impose the insult.

"I apologize for this because I'm aware that you were not at fault. However rules are rules and we must be consistent in our appli-'' My words were sliced through brutally as the ruddy faced man twisted free from my grip and threw me off balance. My reflexes went haphazard and I didn't see the kick coming until it was too late. His big square foot cracked into my left knee with so much force I was nearly thrown through the air. The most excruciating pain shot through my leg, so complete in its infliction that my brain very nearly closed in on itself. My bad leg… he had kicked my bad leg! I couldn't stand on it; the pain was too severe. I could feel sweat pock marking my forehead and I was screaming and gasping, leaning on the wall. Even touching the toes of that foot to the floor was excruciating. Like burning spears had been shoved into every spare inch of skin and muscle tissue, every tendon and bone alight.

"GET OUT!" I roared slamming the door in their faces as hard as I was able. I hope I broke their noses. Heck, I hope I broke their necks. I was in too much pain to care about the consequences of my actions. Gasping and biting my lip, I managed to limp back into the main area of the restaurant where I emerged to everyone's concerned stares. They'd heard me screaming of course. Yoshi was looking through the hatch at me. Akemi bustled over and pressed her hands to both sides of my face. She could tell without my saying a word that I was in absolute agony.

"They hit your leg didn't they, beau? You know you have to be careful! More people then you'd care to think know about your leg! Oh darling, you can barely walk!" She tried to move under my arm to support me but I gently pushed her aside. I needed to get out of the room, away from people's eyes. I limped across the room, pushing open the patio doors and emerging onto the deck where earlier that day Watari and I had cried together. Encompassing pain took me and I barely managed to move out of the sight of the patrons' inside before I collapsed, dragged down in unconsciousness and into angry dreams that lapped like burning razors at the corners of my mind.

_**- EC -**_

**Watari: **OH NO! Ori, what happened to you!

**Oriya: **Don't panic. You'll find out next chapter.

**Watari: **But I don't wanna wait that long! I'll worry about you in the meantime!

**Oriya: **(Confused) How can you worry? This fic is set in the past. I'm all right now. You _know _what was wrong with me.

**Watari: **(Hurriedly shushes him) SHHHH! You just have to ruin the drama don't you? (Sighs and shakes his head)


	14. Watari: Butterfly Collection

_Dark Adaptation_

**Disclaimer:** No! I don't own it! Don't claim any responsibility for creating any cool Descendant's of Darkness characters, so no suing please? (Big beaming smile)

**Note:** Hooray everyone! This week I finished Silent Hill 4: The Room! Been working on it for so long that it was such a relief to get to the end of it! Can't wait to play it through again! (Got quite the crap ending. Guess that be some indication as to my gaming ability, ne?) Also finished watching this terrific yaoi anime series called Sukisyo. It is so genki and funny and cute! I recommend everyone to watch it and try and guess which obscure coupling is my favorite! All righty, moving onto Dark Adaptation news: Sorry it has taken so long to get the next chapter up! Had huge case of writers block and this chappie is massive! And I still didn't get to where I needed to go, so I'm afraid it has been split in half! (Only the next half hasn't been written yet) Sorry Mutsu fans! You'll have to wait a bit longer but I'll get through the next chapter as quickly as possible! Scouts honor! (Flashes peace sign) Now, get in there and read the damn thing and please leave me lots of scrummy reviews! It motivates me to work faster, you know! (Call it blackmail if you like but whom do you know that would work for nothing?)

**Muraki: (Dr. Satan) **Wait! Your newest update of Dark Adaptation is interrupted for this startling and controversial revelation! (Dramatic close up) Ladies and gentleman, Yutaka Watari is actually… (Camera swoops in on Muraki's SD super announcement expression)… A HOOKER!

**Oriya: (Pimp-Boy) **(Inhales his pipe and starts to choke)

**Watari: (The Mad scientist and NEWLY REVEALED part time hooker) **(Death glares Muraki) I am not. And _don't _encourage him NaPap.

**NaPap: (Her Bigheadedness) **Sorry! But as Shigure put it in the Fruits Basket manga (that I promised never to read but oh well!) he stated that controversial news is more likely to make readers sit up and take notice! I wanted to see if it would work here!

**Tsuzuki: (Chastity Boy) **Uh… I think they'd be happy settling for an update, NaPap. (Notices his title) HEY! What the Hell do you mean by _that!_

**Watari: **Yeah, I mean if it came down to who got lucky more in fanfiction, I think that Tsuzuki has a better chance of being labeled a hooker than me! (Finally notices Oriya choking to death and runs to save him) No, don't die Ori! You've already been through so much!

**NaPap: **And on that note, time to get back to good old Kokakuro and find out if Oriya is going to be okay! Strap on your geisha's people as we join our favorite ho's and hookers, for another fun filled addition to Dark Adaptation!

**Watari: **(Saves Oriya and then starts to beat the shit out of Muraki and NaPap as the scene fades out)

Watari 

I moved without thinking but even my preternatural instincts were not fast enough. My hand snatched vacated air, which jeered snide remarks through my fingers as Oriya slumped to the deck, facing outward towards the darkened yard. His long brown hair collapsed in a bundle around his shoulders, like twin curtains closing over a performance stage, to the applause and standing ovation of an excited crowd.

"Oriya!" I gasped, not understanding and afraid that I did not understand. What had caused this proud, unshakeable man to scream in such agony only moments before? What had that greasy pervert done to my-

I quickly shook that thought away. Where did I get off thinking that Oriya was mine? I mean… I would have liked for him to be mine exclusively but it was far too early to integrate the term so casually into my thought patterns. I would do well to monitor myself there.

Oriya had hit the decking with such force; I was frightened that he might have cracked his skull open. I knelt by his side quickly, fingers at his pulse and then positioned before his mouth, measuring both his breath and heartbeats. They were normal, which was a good sign. Akemi came bustling out a moment later and knelt down on Oriya's other side, sliding her hands underneath his body.

"Help me move him to the sitting area, Mr. Watari." She urged. Some primal emotion roared in my chest and I had to willfully restrain the urge to bat Akemi away, as though she were an intrusive butterfly. But even the flapping of a butterfly's wings can give birth to a tornado, which would devastate the lives of many halfway across the world. And this gentle woman under the guise of honest to goodness sincerity could so easily have caused irreversible damage to Oriya by moving him, even _slightly._ I grasped her wrist firmly but not hard enough to leave a mark, or to painfully restrict her movements. Her dark eyes looked at me, with no innocent curiosity but with matured impatience. The creature in my chest and the rational side of my literal self, which was busy flipping through its Rolodex of medical options, were in utter agreement about how to handle this situation. _Don't move him. Don't let anyone else touch him._

Though I couldn't help but think that they were agreeing for very different reasons.

"We shouldn't move him." I advised, releasing her wrist the moment I started talking. "We don't know what's wrong with him. There may be an injury in his back. Moving him could cause serious spinal damage, so we shouldn't attempt to do so until we know for sure what took place out in the entrance hall. Does he suffer from sciatica?"

"It's not a spinal injury you big dope." Akemi sighed with thinly veiled amusement. Her hands slid slowly underneath Oriya's chest and my body tensed. "The gentleman that he escorted out kicked him in the leg. His left leg. He has a permanent impediment that runs from his hip down to his ankle."

"He does?" I helped Akemi roll Oriya onto his back, carefully adjusting his leg so as not to further agitate him. Oriya's head flopped inelegantly to the side as though he were a puppet, his handsome features pinched with a pain that had burrowed down into unconsciousness like a persistent tick that he could not burn out. I could see his eyebrows twitching up and down in a sporadic dance to the silent agony weaving its harmony from this injury I'd been totally unaware of. "But… but he never expressed any outward signs of suffering from such a debilitation. I never noticed a limp. And I've seen him move quite easily on it." I had of course been thinking back to the dual between Oriya and Hisoka three months ago. The samurai had seemed perfectly healthy. _Too _healthy in fact. His skills were advanced to the point where I could have easily categorized them as 'supernatural.'

Akemi nodded solemnly as she placed her hand on Oriya's creased forehead, her thumb soothing out the bunched lump of tension that had knotted between his perfectly sculptured eyebrows. Even in a moment like that, I couldn't help but notice what an incredibly beautiful man he was. How exotic and regal the structure of his face was, the cut of his jaw and the shape of his eyes, angled sharply at the corners in a manner that suggested his pure blood Japanese ancestry. His breathing at that moment was harsh and agitated; as though he were profoundly pissed off at being out cold and was attempting to throw off the dark layer of unconsciousness that had collapsed on top of him. I watched his sensuously full lips part to make way for the accusatory hisses of air that he sucked back into his lungs like the intake of smoke from his pipe.

I had been so caught up in my observations that I'd missed what Akemi was saying completely. When I asked her to repeat it, she raised her eyebrow but didn't say anything derogative, though I wouldn't have held it against her if she had. It wasn't as though I was being discreet about my perverted tendencies.

"I said, that Oriya doesn't normally allow the injury to dictate his day to day activities," She said as we moved Oriya into a sitting position, squatting on either side of him and gently securing each of his arms around our shoulders. "The injury is not expected to ever fully heal and that's presuming that no further aggravation befalls it. Some days it is particularly painful for him. For a while he had a chiropractor tend to it five times a week but it seemed to have gotten better in the past three months or so, so he no longer thought it necessary to continue their appointments. He always used to have a limp but lately he's been okay. This is going to tear him up if he has go through all that again… Oriya hates being restricted. Well, anyway, let us move him to the sitting area. He'll be comfortable there until he regains consciousness. One, two, three… and lift!"

I was a fraction taller than Akemi, so I had to be careful when I rose to my feet to prevent throwing her off balance. If I had not been a guardian, then I undoubtedly would have found Oriya's weight to be quite formidable to say the least. Six foot four, his muscles toned and bone structure firm. Though he was lean in some places; particularly around the waist, it didn't make carrying him any less of a trial. My advanced strength came in useful as Akemi and I negotiated his unconscious body down the steps and into the garden, illuminated by moonlight. The water feature sounded out a lonely 'donk' as it emptied water from the bamboo cane into the tiny silver pool beneath it. I imagined that without the muffled sounds of the restaurant in the background, this could be quite a peaceful place. Perfect for a lone wolf such as Oriya Mibu to sit with his pipe threaded between his lips and ponder whatever the hell it was that samurai pondered over. I could visualize it quite easily; the first night I had ever set eyes on the purposefully ambiguous man, he had been perched on a rock in that very garden, smoking his pipe in a relaxing and tranquil manner. I'd been intrigued since that very moment. I had failed to tell Tsuzuki but I'd thought of nothing else in the three months since leaving Kyoto to the fire, bloodshed and tainted memories my hometown would now always possess. But none of that had mattered to me. All I had been able to selfishly indulge in had been the thoughts of a mysterious dark haired man; veiled in moonlight and sweeping blood into rain with the lazy aptitude of one whom never doubted nor reveled in his skill. He was frightening and dangerous, his dark hair like wings and the silver blade that darted down to slap through the skin of Hisoka's chest as lethal as the talons of a great night hunter. Oriya was an owl. His eyes found what no other could seek out in the darkness. He struck with an ease that came from understanding his true nature, encompassing an instinct all his own and exploiting it in order to master and perfect this ability to strike again and again.

We crossed the garden slowly, trying to keep the weight off of Oriya's leg. Which basically meant we were dragging his feet along the ground behind us. A little dirt was preferable to further agitation however. It was quite a task getting him up the stairs to the adjacent decking but we finally succeeded and I balanced Oriya's weight against me as Akemi slid open the door. The sitting room was traditionally Japanese with tatami mats spread out around the wooden decking, a small fireplace in the center of the room and cushions upon which to perch one's buttocks for sustained periods of time. However, in some ways it appeared cozier than the other area's of the Kokakuro. There were a great number of landscapes hanging on the wall, all taken of Kyoto in different time frames. Some were even dated in the early 1950's, around the same time that I had been born. Others, I noticed, were of people I assumed were family members, only because of their uncanny similarity to Oriya. I looked them over fondly, feeling somewhat more relaxed as we lay Oriya down on the floor and started gathering together a few cushions to move him onto.

"Is that Oriya's family?" I asked, pointing out a particularly large group photo. Akemi looked over in the direction my finger was pointed and smiled knowingly.

"It certainly is." She informed me as we lined the cushions atop one of the tatami mats and plumped them a few times. "Oriya's very close to his family, despite the fact that they all live in different area's of Japan."

"They look nice," I said moving my hands underneath Oriya's body and prompting her to do the same. She shrugged her shoulders as we positioned ourselves to move him.

"Yes, they're nice enough, I suppose. His sister Asuoko can be a little full of herself however." She explained as we lifted Oriya slowly onto the cushions. He murmured a little in complaint but then fell silent as he settled into the soft padding, fingers and brow clenched tightly. "She's a singer, so I guess it should only be expected. Celebrities are snooty on principle."

Before I could remark on this broad overgeneralization, footsteps echoed outward from the garden and sure enough seconds later, Mami came bursting through the patio doors, panting and clutching her left side. Clumps of her light brown hair had fallen loose from her bun in the hasty dart she'd made from the restaurant area to the sitting room and hung in loose curls around her shoulders.

"Is Master Oriya all right?" She managed to convey through a series of desperately needed breaths. She paused to inhale the cool night air deeply and then brought her face and body upright. "The guests are really concerned! Sonja, Dai and Miyamato managed to get things under control but they told me to come over here and check on him. Should I call a doctor? Perhaps his chiropractor? Just when he thought he didn't need him anymore! Oh, this is awful!"

"Perhaps it would be a good idea to summon a doctor," Akemi mused as she moved to Mami's side, her fingers going to work on the jumble of curls that had fallen loose around her shoulders. "But I don't think it is nearly as bad as you believe it to be, my dear. Come now. Your hair."

"There's no need to call a doctor. I'm-" I cut myself off quickly, reminded off the fact that to Mami I was only a secretary/receptionist and even to Akemi I was a mere detective, neither of which included anything in the job description about a Ministry acquired PHD in Treatment of Physical, Spiritual, Magical and any specified Supernatural or Natural ailments, injuries, illnesses and so forth. " – _trained_… to handle these sorts of things."

"They train secretary's how to treat leg injuries?" Mami asked quietly, as Akemi pinned her hair back atop her head and returned the bun to its former glory. I bit my lip nervously.

"Did a course at University." I mumbled, smoothing back the hem of Oriya's yukata in order to examine his leg. It appeared that he had taken the impact directly against the knee and that the cap had been jolted out of place as a result. There was a substantial amount of swelling surrounding the joint and when I gently pressed my fingers to it, the flesh yielded and discolored. "All right… his kneecap needs to be slotted back into place but other than that, I don't know if there is much else that can be done." I was already thinking about what potion I could give him to help heal the wound. But the girls didn't need to know about that. "We can see what he wants to do about it when he wakes up. But for now, what would really help is if one of you ladies would be so kind as to fetch me an icepack? Or even a bag of frozen peas. Anything that can help ease the swelling."

Mami looked a little uncertain. She glanced at Akemi as though seeking her validation. "Do you think he really does know what he is doing?"

Akemi did not appear concerned about leaving Oriya in my hands. Knowing that I was a detective seemed proof enough that I had a good idea about dealing with injuries like this. Even if I was a somewhat perverted detective at best. She guided Mami back towards the garden.

"Let us put our trust in Mr. Watari." She suggested calmly. Both girls turned to bow at me. "I shall bring you an icepack as you requested, young sir. Just make sure the master is well looked after."

"You have my word!" I assured her with a playful wink. She returned my cheer with a scolding look before sliding the door closed and blocking out the cool night wind, which whispered suggestions of rain between the flicker of the leaves upon the gardens trees.

I was left alone with Oriya.

Oriya… who was so perfect, so _beautiful_, so… unconscious. I drummed my fingers together as I gazed down at his tightened features, reaching out to brush his straight and somewhat rigid bangs away from his shaded eyes, my fingernails grazing across his skin. I moved closer still, observing him in the silence I'd been finally granted. I watched the rise and fall of his broad chest, noted the lines of his mouth and the shadows of his face. His long eyelashes, beautifully crafted hands and deftly toned arms. I ran my finger down the straight, noble bow of his nose and onto his lips, registering the heat of his breaths as they puffed from his lungs. Something stirred in the region of my stomach. Something that wanted to take advantage of Oriya's imminent recession in a way that was most immoral but so vaguely satisfying at the same time.

I couldn't keep these thoughts at bay, no matter how decadent and wicked they were. It should be a crime to have been that beautiful.

I hadn't said anything but a part of me was relieved that Oriya had lived up to my expectations. To think of someone from afar, to idealize them from a distance causes one to veil reality with romantic delusions. To raise them up on a pedestal and accord them praise and worship, as though they were one of God's angels. … I met an angel once. Nice guy, liked animals.

Oriya wasn't as perfect as I made him out to be. Now that I had a chance to study him without worrying about being caught in the act, I gave him a thorough visual examination, smoothing away the halves of his yukata to reveal a Y shaped portion of his upper body. He possessed an overlapping tan, meaning to say that his body had been exposed to the sun over and over again. Looking closely I could see brown spots on his skin, just beneath his clavicle, extending down to the upper ridge of his pectorals. Freckles. When I moved closer, I could see he had a few faint dots across his nose also. Cute! And expected of a man who undoubtedly spent most of his time out in the sun with his top off. Training. Swinging a sword around, with sweat dripping down his toned and sturdy body…

I had to wipe my mouth to keep from dribbling. Sometimes I swear that I am too detailed in my daydreams.

I could see a trembling occur between his brows and the hardened expression he had worn since moving him suddenly warped into something that all too clearly resembled deep agony. He whimpered in his sleep, fingers opening and closing against nothing. Without thinking, I slid my hand down into his palm and allowed him to seize me. His skin was warm, but not feverish. He clutched my fingers in his fist and squeezed tightly but I didn't make a sound to express my discomfort. All that occupied my present thoughts was that he was hurting and I would have done anything to help ease that pain. I felt so strongly that I could even justify saying that I would have taken his pain unto myself.

But those kinds of spells are prohibited.

"Oriya…" I whispered, pulling his robes back in tightly around his body so that he wouldn't catch a chill. He must have heard my voice, because his lips parted and then pressed together. I had to lean close to hear the hushed words that barely vaulted past his lips before collapsing ineloquently across his chin, like the most feeble high jumper. My ear was right next to his mouth, my hand pressed lightly against his chest.

"_Kazu… taka…" _He hissed. My eyes widened as the grip on my hand grew even tighter, nearly cutting off the circulation to my fingers. If he squeezed any harder they were likely to all pop off and start squirming around the carpet like extras from _The Addam's Family. "… why… why…? … it… hurts… hurts… hurts…_" I turned my head slowly as his eyelashes fluttered across rapidly darting eyes, as though the lids caged two feisty moths battling for freedom. I wasn't sure but it sounded as though he were recounting a memory. Something that happened long ago. Or for all I knew, maybe the pain he was referring to, the pain that needed to be exorcised in this unconscious state, was emotional pain. Calling for Muraki, wondering why he had done what he had done. Left him… left him alone with only assumptions of his demise in the University of Tokyo as it burnt to the ground those three long months ago.

"It… must have hurt very badly Oriya…" I said, knowing full well the pain of waiting for news, for one word that might confirm the life or death of someone that you loved. "He must have broken your heart a lot, huh? And now you must suffer through this pain for me… In the absence of Muraki, did you feel the need to protect me? Is it that you long for pain, so that you know that the feelings you have for someone are real?" I smiled a little bitterly perhaps, which was unusual for me. "I guess heartache is exactly what makes it real in the end. Emotional, physical and spiritual pain. But that seems all so dramatic and depressing, does it not? I don't think that to love someone you should have to hurt. You should be able to tell that you care because all you think about is what you feel for them. Wanting to be with them. Wanting to protect them…"

"… _it hurts…" _He whispered again. I doubted that he had heard my words but at the same time seemed insistent on denying them. Denying them by focusing on the pain, which defined his emotions. The living proof of his sacrifice of affection, his heartbreak and torment that came as a result of placing his care into the hands of those which would afford him such agony. I did not want to be the same to him as Muraki was. I did not want to bring Oriya heartache and misery. I wanted to see him smile because of me. I wanted sunshine for him. And joy. Not misery and tears and… hurt.

His hand tightened on mine and his words became the timid tremor of a child who wasn't sure what was wrong with it. My body swayed down toward the call of his voice before my conscious thoughts had even adhered to my actions. My desire to comfort and ease his pain gave no notice to the rest of my self, all of which had already agreed to this decision to move closer and provide him with tenderness. My chest pressed against his own and my spare hand fell across his forehead, tangling in the straight dark strands of hair, brushing away the pinpricks of sweat that were rising up through his tanned skin. My mouth a bare, insatiable inch from his own, my hand squeezing back with every desperate clutch his unconscious self distributed. It was a position I sometimes assumed in love making, only now I had positioned myself as a means of placating the unwary man. Because of this, the moment became inappropriately evocative and I would have liked to have fooled myself with the stray delusion that we could have been making love in this very way. I'd even allowed my leg to slide between his thighs, my pelvis against his own, though not moving. I could feel his breaths puffing from between his lips. Pain, not pleasure.

Pain was his desire also. Just as it was mine. We both required pain to remind us that our existences were true.

"… _hurts…_" He whispered softly.

"Shhh… I know…" I told him, pressing a kiss into his cheek, my hand stroking his hair in soothing motions. "I know it hurts… poor baby… You didn't have to do that for me. It wasn't worth this now was it? You poor baby…"

I pressed my mouth over his, no longer able to resist the fact that I was so very close to him. His chest rose and fell beneath my own and I didn't allow the kiss to linger any longer than it took to satisfy my craving, for one mere, unappeasable taste of his mouth. His pouty, full lips were soft and warm. I would have been content if I'd been condemned to kiss that mouth alone for all eternity. When my lips left his, his fingers tightened around my own but no more hushed words threaded out from his sub-consciousness.

I lifted myself from his body, moving the hand in his hair down to surround his cheek with my palm. Someone cleared their throat from the doorway and I looked up, only to receive the punch of a frosty ice pack in the face. Akemi crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded me with mounting skepticism.

"You call _that _taking good care of him?" She asked, though clearly not desiring an answer because she barreled on ahead before I could so much as pry the pack from my cranium. "Taking advantage of a man whilst he's lying unconscious! My God, I have to wonder where your morals are, young sir!"

I scuttled backwards, putting some space between my own body and Oriya's, the icepack clutched tightly over my thumping heart. Akemi looked fit to be tied and I wasn't afraid to admit that I was prepared to run if it seemed as though she was going to attack. Her eyebrows were axed in my direction but she surprised me by suddenly laughing, her fingers clutched over her lips in that annoying, yet endearing manner that was something of a trademark with Japanese girls. I paused in my retreat, still uncertain as to whether or not this was a sign to relax. Akemi lowered her hands and smiled at me, her expression and eyes as soft as the one whom she reminded me of. She was so very much like my older sister had been when I was alive. I suppose that is why I had warmed to her so quickly.

"It's all right, no need to look so alarmed!" She chuckled, shuffling into the room carefully. "I may be a woman but I'm not ignorant. We geisha have a fine understanding of attraction and not a single member of Oriya's staff has failed to notice the magnetism between both you and the master."

"Uh… I…" Well that was certainly eloquent Yutaka. And I prided myself at being a highly established negotiator. I was being outsmarted by a geisha!

Akemi made a shushing noise and placed a long finger over her lips, either to prevent my babbling from rousing the quiescent Oriya or to prevent me from over exaggerating the seriousness of the situation. She knelt down in front of me and gently brushed her fingers over my cheek. Her smile was warm and completely sincere.

"I shouldn't tease you. Not when I have so much resting on you." She told me, placing her palm against the side of my face. When I raised an eyebrow, showing that I did not quite understand what she meant, she explained. "It's not usual for the master to form such connections with people that he has only known for one day. But you are different Mr. Watari. I understand that already. I do not think that you were just sent here to investigate the murders that have occurred within these walls we call home. I believe that you were sent here to meet Oriya. He has been waiting for you his entire life but with no idea just what it is he's been waiting for."

Her words had engaged my interests. But they unequivocally, irreversibly, undeniably baffled me at the very same time.

"… Um… excuse me Miss Akemi… But I'm not exactly sure what you mean by that…"

She simply smiled. "All you need to know is that I believe your meeting was intended and _that _is why you are here, no matter what you believe you were sent to do. You truly care about him, do you not?"

I nodded, knowing that it was absolutely true. I had only met him that morning but already I cared for him as I would a friend and prospective lover. Looking back now, I have to admit that circumstances did indeed aspire to draw me there, to him.

Akemi glanced over at Oriya and ran her hand tenderly across his forehead, smoothing back his bangs like a concerned mother. She still wore her smile with the same cheerfulness she had shown me but her eyes were sad.

"He's a beautiful man," She said with a stern look at me as though it were my fault God painted him with a lilac brush. "But he's lonely. Lonely and bitter. He would never actually say anything to our faces but it's clear that Oriya is extremely bitter about this life he has been forced into accepting. That's what he fears the most you know, constriction. He likes and prefers his solitude but he's lonely for the person that could possibly fit into his life. What few people he has allowed in have always disappointed him. Well… I must admit; he is not an easy man to love. He can be a little surly and standoffish at times. Not to mention highly anti-social." She ignored my protesting stutter and extended her hand towards me. "You don't need to tell me. Oriya certainly has his lovable points, which I am more than aware of. Now, put that icepack on his knee, dear. "

I did as I was told, applying the cold package to the swelling abrasion on Oriya's left leg. Akemi watched me like a hawk and only when she was sure I had performed the simple task to her complete satisfaction, did she push herself onto her feet, dusting off the front of her kimono where it had come into contact with the floor. Then she surprised by reaching out with her other hand and placing it across the top of my cranium, giving my hair a little tousle, as one might a child.

"I must be getting back to work. My area is thinning out, so I'll take Area 6 as well for the remainder of the evening. Oh, and before I forget, Yoshi said to tell Oriya that he is to rest. Don't let him hobble back into the kitchen or he'll whack him with a tea towel. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am!" I barked, saluting her in the same mock manner as I had done Oriya only that afternoon. "And don't you worry! I shall tend to his injuries now, so do not concern yourself any more with thoughts of me molesting him!"

"I'm not worried." Akemi said, smiling sweetly. She spun on her heel and left the room, the longer strands of her straight blonde hair whisking out behind her, overlapping the delicate shell of her ear. She paused, her fingers wrapped around the doorframe, face lowered and gaze averted as though she had something to say. An end came to her internal battle and her chin lifted, her eyes on mine. There was no smile, but no edge to her expression either. "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Watari. If there is anything you are in need of, just call for me."

"I… I will Miss Akemi. Thankyou."

With one last bashful smile, she left the room, sliding the door shut behind her. I was a little perplexed. The way she had addressed me at that moment seemed to suggest that she was grateful for my presence not because of the murders but for personal reasons. Still turning this over in my head, I left Oriya alone to go and retrieve my medical kit from the room in which I was staying. The hallways seemed murky and kind of threatening. I knew it was foolish to let the darkness intimidate me but nevertheless, I quickened my pace, counting the number of doors I passed so that I would not overstep my own.

I felt a vibration on the left lens of my glasses, as though someone was tapping it with their finger.

"What is it?" I asked, whipping the glasses off of my face and looking at the clear lenses with my own somewhat blurred vision. The framework shook slightly between my fingers.

"_Jus' gettin' a little stir crazy, if ya know what I mean boss?_" Came the sound of my constant traveling companion. "_I've been snoozing most of the day, dude. Don't be stingy; it's nighttime now! You know how our agreement works!"_

"It's only 7:30." I reminded the benighted he-creature. I could see the doorway to my room just ahead. "You are allowed to go out at 8:00. No sooner than that, otherwise how on earth could I hope to pull you back? The bond is not effective until the clock strikes eight."

"_You've made exceptions before, boss._" The scratchy voice grunted as I slid the door open to my stay room and sauntered in. Gushoshin was already asleep so I was forced to tiptoe around quietly, which was quite the task for a clumsy old codger like me. "_Oh, and that reminds me. Would you please STOP REFERRING TO ME AS AN IMPLING? I am not an imp, nor am I a fairy, or homunculi, or whatever other insulting lower level Grimm's Fairytales creature you could possibly think of to call me. I am a djinni. Come on say it with me. I know that word couldn't possibly be too difficult for you to wrap that nerdy little brain 'round, doc. Am I right?"_

"Quiet. I need to find my medical case and it's impossible with you yammering on about grammatical correctness." I scolded, sliding the glasses back on against my better sense and adjusting the lenses by lifting up one between two fingers and fixing them more closely to my eyes. "And besides, I don't have much choice when it comes to naming you. The Judgment Bureau forbids the summoning and binding of anything higher than an impling of Level 5. Can you imagine what kind of trouble I'd get in if they knew I had a djinni humping barge?"

The glasses wobbled on my nose. "_Oh no! I don't know what I would do if the guy who was holding me captive were to get scolded by the big scary ugly old man! I would just be beside myself with concern!"_

"I fail to see how _you _are the victim in this case, demon. You were running around Obama, clinging to the souls of the dying and then devouring their essence when it was lifted from the body. This was the only way to stop you!"

The _djinni _sounded smug. "_Yep. Bound me into a pair of glasses 'cause you were hopeless in combat, eh? When you saw that you couldn't beat me, you took the easy way out. Just like you always do. And do _not _call me demon, guardian. You wouldn't like it if I called you Mr. Dipshittington, would you? No. Therefore, I demand the right to be addressed by my proper name."_

"It's not the same as… urgh! Never mind, I don't have time for this." I snapped, unzipping one of the still mostly full bags and rummaging for the medical kit, flinging things out behind me as I went. Parchment, files and thongs went soaring through the air, one item of the latter category landing atop Gushoshin's sleeping head like a festive and colorful nightcap. He grunted in his sleep but otherwise made no constructive adherence.

"_Well, I really would appreciate it, ya know? Especially if you're going to be discussing me in front of that honey, Oriya." _The djinni crooned in a tone as sickingly lovey dovey as mine must have been. I was filled with the sudden and appealing desire to smash my glasses over the nearest hard surface. Which would be ultimately inconveniencing myself. "_Can't see very well when yer trapped in glass as thick as the one's you peep through, geek but if he's any nicer than he looks from my blurry gaze, then I tell you what I would like to-"_

I finally uncovered the medical kit from beneath an advanced copy of '_Demonic 5th Level glyph translations', _and made my way back out into the hallway, only to be ambushed by 003.

**003: **_Hmph… been ignoring me…) _

"Hey, hey, what's the big deal buddy? I fed you today!"

The little owl just glared and nipped my ear before taking off down the dark hallway, cooing complaints the entire way. I rubbed my throbbing lobe, utterly confused.

"_Think your little birdy friend has a good old fashioned case of jealousy…" _Said the djinn gleefully. "_Did he bite you hard? Did it bleed? Oh, please tell me he drew a little blood. Blood is pretty!"_

There was something to be said for contact lenses.

XxXxXxXxXx 

_There was only pain…_

"_Oh my God! Oh my God! Oriya! What'll we do! What'll we do! He's dead! You killed him!"_

"_It wasn't me who shoved him! And he's not dead. … But I think his… his back is broken…"_

"_Oh no! Oh God help us! What'll we do? What'll we do! He wont be able to walk again! Oriya! Oriya I'm sorry! Forgive us! What should we do? WHAT?"_

"_Father. You have to run back to the motel and get father, get him to call an ambulance. Go back to the motel, get father, get our father here NOW!"_

"_I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! DON'T DIE ORIYA! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE! DON'T MAKE ME A KILLER!"_

_He couldn't distinguish the voices, couldn't tell who was pleading for his life and who remained composed despite the fact that they were all now bequeathed in the very depths of Hell._

_There was only pain…_

XxXxXxXxXx 

When I emerged into the sitting area, I was greatly surprised to see Oriya awake. He was sitting up, holding the icepack against his knee and clearly still in pain from his injured leg but showing admirable resistance. He was talking on a wireless telephone whilst an elderly woman, whom I assumed was his housekeeper, stood patiently by his side waiting for him to finish. I stood in the doorway, not wanting to intrude upon his conversation, which from the sound of things was pretty intense.

"_No._ You most absolutely do NOT have to drive up here. Everything is fine; it's only a slipped kneecap. I'll just have it popped back into place and everything will be fine. … No I'm not. You don't think your own son would tell you when he's in pain? … I promise, everything is okay. You needn't concern yourself, Mom."

'_Mom?'_ I felt my spine evaporate into butter. He was talking to his mother! How endearing!

Oriya drummed his fingers against the floorboards for a moment and in a split second was waving his hand around animatedly, nearly battering the poor housekeeper across the leg. She wore a rather strained smile as though she were consistently rehearsing the line: '_I must not move away, it's rude though most likely in one's best interests' _over and over in her head.

"No. Don't even think about telling Dad. He's not well enough to be driving to Kyoto, especially at night. … It was just a little kick, tell him to have another pint and watch some commercial television. No point stressing over it. …" He scratched his head and sighed softly. "No, I do appreciate it. I just don't want you to worry over nothing. … … Okay…. Thanks. … Yeah I will. Love you Mom. Send Dad my love too."

'_Love you Mom. Send Dad my love too.' _I was practically turning into a big puddle of Oriya adoration on the floor. The fact that he was fobbing off his injury so as not to worry his elderly folks just went to show what a selfless man he was. I just wanted to rush on over and hug him until his head popped off! … Actually no, maybe not that hard. That would most likely kill him and it would be messy and inconvenient and not nearly as cute as he was when he'd actually had a head. Plus, it was such a pretty head. It looked just fine where it was. On his lovely, slender, very kissable neck…

I wiped away a strand of dribble that was threatening to nosedive down to the floorboards and watched as Oriya flicked the button across to End Call and sighed heavily, running a hand through his straight clump of bangs. The housekeeper smiled understandably.

"Thankyou Mrs. Koneko," Oriya said as he handed her back the phone. "And if you wouldn't mind, please make it clear to Akemi that I do not need her informing my parents of every minor accident I have. She knows how much they worry. That will be all, thankyou."

"You're most welcome Master Mibu," she said with a waist deep bow. "I'll make sure Miss Aisubi gets the message."

I hung back in the shadows of the hallway until Mrs. Koneko had left, peeping through the gap between the sliding doors at Oriya, not bothering to wipe the little smile off of my face. The djinni in my glasses seemed to approve of my sudden adulation, which had all but painted me into the doorframe like a very lovesick portrait.

"Migh' not wanna let this one get away, boss."

I had no intention of letting go of Oriya anytime soon. Men of his standard were not handed out free on street corners. They didn't grow on trees and they didn't fall from the sky, no matter what the songs say. They were one in a million and as elusive as birds.

I watched as Oriya's features contorted when he tried to adjust his position on the cushions Akemi and I had placed beneath him. I was eagerly prepared to leap to my divested role as helper and nurse but was startled out of my heroic entrance by the appearance of 003's head from beneath the tresses of Oriya's hair. The samurai froze, eyes squinted dangerously as he inched his hand back slowly and then in a rapid snake like dart, snatched the little owl from its hiding place.

**003: **_(Long hair… not as many split ends as Watari…)_

"You little bugger. What the Hell were you doing back there? Making a nest?"

003 hooted happily, his head poking out the top of Oriya's fist, the rest of his body hidden beneath the clenched fingers. Oriya wasn't holding him tightly though. 003 seemed perfectly at ease in his temporary cage. Oriya observed him for a moment and groaned wearily as he examined the alcove left in his hair for anything 003 might have left behind. When he was sure there was nothing there, he brought the hand back round and rubbed the top of 003's head with one finger. The little owl cooed contentedly, eyes shut and the feathers around his neck fluffing up as he nuzzled back at the affectionate little touch. Lucky bastard. 003 gets all the good ones.

**003**: _(Feels good!)_

"You're a cute little critter," Oriya admitted, uncurling his fist so 003 could sit in his palm. "You just thank your lucky stars that my nieces aren't here tonight because they wouldn't leave you alone."

He was so focused on 003 that he didn't even hear the door slide open as I entered the room. Once I was free from the hallway, the door shut firmly behind me and the medical case propped against the wall, I summoned up the mana within and cast Levitation, feeling gravity lose its hold over me. I rose as high as the roof before Oriya felt a presence and he glanced over to his left, where I had previously been standing. I looked down at him from right above his head, saw his eyebrow rise in confusion.

"I could have sworn…" He mumbled unconvincingly. Above him, I twisted around so that my feet were pointed at the ceiling and then descended on his right side, still levitating just above the crown of his dark brown head. He was still facing the closed door, so I reached out with my right hand, caught the cut of his chin with my fingers and gently turned his gaze toward me. Before he could adjust to what was happening, I kissed him. My lips roughly upside down and diagonal against his own mouth, my body suspended topsy-turvy above him, legs bent loosely at the knee. It was such a perfect scene. As though we were suspended in a vortex and reaching out for one another regardless of circumstances. 003 gave an indignant hoot (Ha! That should show him who's boss!) and took leave of Oriya's hand, allowing the samurai to put his palm around my neck, his fingernails lightly stroking my skin. Parting for only a second of air and trying to ignore the blood rushing to me head, I wasted no time in sinking my lips against the much fuller and delectable ones of my client again; lapping at the interior wall of his mouth hungrily with my tongue. I wound my hand up under his chin, my fingers stroking at the lobe of his ear attentively when I felt his hand go into my hair, pushing me down against the force of the spell so he could gain greater access to my mouth. It was so sweet, the taste of his kiss. Sweet even in light of the ever-present hint of tobacco. And because of the angle we were kissing at, the tops of our tongues were able to align against one another's, the tip of mine working back to where the salt tasting glands were and running across them experimentally. It was a good way of deducing a man's gag reflexes because the glands were quite close to the back of the throat and someone's tongue there could sometimes cause them to gag in discomfort. I was pleased to find that Oriya had no problem accepting my own probing muscle. He cupped my lips sensuously between his own and sucked on them, fishing his tongue around mine as though challenging it to a dual that it had no hope of winning. He was as skilled in the art of his tongue as he was with the blade. It was becoming very difficult for me to concentrate on maintaining my Levitation spell, so I slowly relaxed it, floating down, excited when I felt Oriya pulling me in against his body. He continued to kiss me even as I rotated around and settled on the floor between his legs. One of his arms was around my neck, his hand settled against my temple and cupping my skull in a very affectionate manner, angling my lips up against his own. His other arm was braced across my chest. I felt safe there against his body, ensnared by what might have been the strongest chains but were actually the perfectly shaped and toned appendages of the dark haired beauty that held me so tenderly. When our kiss finally broke, I found that he had left me breathless once more. Even he was a little short on oxygen, though he didn't pant for air the way that I shamelessly did. His breaths were deep and controlled, dark regal eyes regarding me carefully. One corner of his reddened lips quirked up, as though a piece of string had been knotted through the skin and someone had pulled on it.

"Well…. Might I ask what that was for?"

I laughed a little, in jest of my reckless abandon and beamed up at him, poking his nose with my finger.

"Oh, just payback for the way you surprised me this morning, Pimp-Boy!" I said on a whim. "I'm sorry if that seemed a little… spontaneous."

He shook his head. "Not at all. That's what I like about you."

I continued to smile as I rested back against his warm body, not wanting to close my eyes afraid that it was nothing but a dream and when I woke up, Oriya would be gone and I would be back to my lonely life in the lab. I clenched my fingers into the pink folds of his yukata, reassuring myself that this was a very real person whom I was falling for.

"If my boss caught me canoodling like that with someone I just met, there would be no end to the things he would call me." I had a sudden and accurate vision of Tatsumi bottling me up in a corner and lecturing me about employee/client protocol and how he didn't want anyone in the service of the Ministry to disgrace themselves by coming off as a slut. This construed scene came very easily to me as it had actually happened and more than once. In one particular circumstance his words had been so cruel that it had been more than a year before I was able to speak with him in a civilized manner. Since then he has been very careful in the way he addresses me. It may have had something to do with the fact that I'd punched him in the lip and then let loose a whole army of animated stick figures upon his office. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off guardian.

"Well, I wont tell if you don't," Oriya said, lifting my chin and pressing his lips to mine with an amused smile. It was a soft, juicy kiss and he chuckled throatily when it ended, his forehead pressed against my own. "Hmm… I could get used to this. That mouth of yours was made to tempt me."

I tucked my head underneath his chin, pushing my lips against the extended artery and nuzzling it. I could feel his breaths moving in and out of his throat and I ran my fingers across the brown spots on the visible patch of his chest. My hormones were purring in deep satisfaction. I'd never been in the presence of someone like Oriya before. Someone who could make me feel aroused and relaxed in equal measure. The soothing motions of his chest rising and falling. His heart beating against my ear.

"So… you really like me then?" My voice was more shy and timid than I had ever heard it. Oriya smiled at my hopeful tone, his hand running across the back of my head. His lips distributed a warm assurance against my forehead.

"Very much," He replied in that husky, gruff, sexy voice. "Very much Yutaka."

"_Why didn't you just cut straight to the point and ask if he wanted ta go ta bed wid ya?"_ The djinni asked in a stage whisper. "_At least I'd have something good ta watch 'till eight o'clock rolls round."_

It took me a moment to react to that, though you'd think after fourteen years I would have been used to the creatures kinky jibes.

"Pervert!" I yelled, nearly sending Oriya crashing backwards in shock. "I want no part in sating your unquenchable voyeurism fetish!"

Oriya looked confused and a little hurt as he righted himself. "I don't believe I said anything about enjoying voyeurism, Yutaka. If you are referring to my observations in the restaurant, I assure you it was only at Yoto's prompting that-"

"I was telling off my _imp_, not the _pimp._" I said, making sure to thoroughly stress the word 'imp.' Then I caught the rest of Oriya's sentence. "Wait… what was that about the observations in the restaurant?"

"_Thanks a lot for the compliment, Mr. Dipshittington."_ The djinni grumbled. I yanked off my glasses and checked the clock on the wall. It wasn't quite eight yet but I'd let him off early before when he'd been too annoying to handle. Despite his bad behavior we'd been together for so long that I didn't exactly consider him a servant; more so an annoying older brother of sorts. Whom just happened to live in my glasses.

"Ori, I'm going to tend to your leg in a moment but can you hold on until I release this annoying underworld brat?"

He looked a little worried at this. "Release?"

I held the glasses out in his direction trying to ignore the djinni's excited garbling at being placed in close proximity to Oriya without being attached to my face at the same time.

"Keep it to yourself but the little guy I have bound into my glasses is actually a djinni."

Again he looked confused. Oriya was a nice guy but he didn't seem to understand half of what I said at the best of times. But then again, who did?

"Djinni?"

I sought for the simplest explanation. "A djinni is a creature of smoke and fire, mostly employed to the service of magicians or Sahir. The one I am in possession of is of the Jan tribe, the one's that adjust and associate most easily with humans. They're kind of like genies if you wanna twist around the mythology a bit."

"_But I wont be singing no 'Never had a friend like me.'"_ The djinni established as though we had been secretly expecting a musical rendition of Aladdin.

"Capable of metamorphosis; meaning they can change shape. Telekinesis, levitation, spell casting, teleportation and generally being know it all smart asses."

"Why thank you, your Hypocrisy."

"This one is bound to my service though, so he does what I tell him to. In theory anyway. He's only allowed out at night to feed. During the day he rests. Or backchats me, one or the other."

This didn't seem to set Oriya's mind at ease any more than it had been when the conversation first started.

"I see. … And what exactly does this djinni eat?"

"Little children generally. But that's only when I can't get a hold of babies and puppies." I flicked the lenses warningly. "If he had his way, it would be the souls of dying sinners but in my charge he feeds only on the aura's of people by walking amongst them, or in some cases sleeping with them. It doesn't actually harm anyone. So don't worry. If he ever did, I'd know. I have cast a spell on him that would activate should he disobey my instructions. It sends a powerful spiritual shock through his essence, which would disintegrate all his blueprinted physical forms. And he doesn't want that to happen. Considering that he has a very handsome human form at the moment. Don't you my friend?" "Indeed I do." Said the djinni, a hint of pride in its telepathic voice. "Anyway, the point being is that he wont cause any trouble." I made my lips all pouty as I leant towards Oriya, running one finger down his chest. "You don't think I would do anything so irresponsible, do you?" 

A retching noise came from my glasses. "_You can flirt all you like after I'm gone. Let's move it along, blondie! Verf deine arsch, sheisskopf!" _

Impatient to get the whiny little bastard out of the way and more than a little eager to be completely alone with Oriya, I placed my glasses on the floor, knelt a few feet away and positioned my hands in the Ejection position. The Ejection spell was short but tirelessly complex, though I'd had more than enough practice releasing the djinni and thus encountered no complications. Once I had uttered the necessary words and made the mercifully simple hand gestures, a bright flash of light came from the lenses of the glasses moving back and forth experimentally before finally arching upward toward the ceiling as though an angel was expected to descend through the roof at any moment.

Djinni have a range of appearances whence summoned. They are always required to take on a material form because the Casual Space (this particular area of existence) cannot sustain them for very long in their natural form. (The older one's are able to became dust clouds and fog which is as close as they can get to their true form but Jann, such as my own, feel more comfortable in human manifestation) Djinn usually attempt to scare their summoner by a dramatic entrance, sometimes by taking on the likeness of Christian demons or impressions of Lucifer. Others take on more poetic visages, such as beautiful women or ethereal entities.

Mine however decided on his "I'm-hot-and-you're-going-to-want-to-have-sex-with-me-by-the-time-I'm done," appearance. Which in essentials resembled a Sailor Moon transformation. I think that's where he got the idea.

It was portentously dramatic, as you would expect. Two ribbons, black and white, arched from each lens of the glasses and spiraled upwards toward the ceiling; circling a pocket of air which had started to throb with purple energy. Dark shadows in the corners suddenly expanded and the lights in the room flickered before fading away completely. He liked to have center stage when appearing before strangers, _especially_ cute guys. When I had revealed him to Tsuzuki, who still happens to be the only Guardian to learn of my pets true nature thankyou, the little bastard actually had the nerve to appear naked, strategically wrapped up in the tiny ribbons. I was worried he was going for an encore performance now, in which case I would have no choice but to strangle him with the ribbons and then hang his body from the rafters.

The ribbons mixed with the energy so that they were outlined by a purple light, which intensified into a brief and blinding flash, almost like someone taking a photograph with a ten-foot camera. Heavenly music filled the air. Why he found the sound of a professional boys choir, who all sounded suspiciously like eunuchs, to be Heavenly and glamorous is beyond me. The scent of redwood, cherry-bark and every single flower imaginable wafted out from the light. The effect would have been so much better had Oriya been allergic to pollen and starting sneezing incessantly which would have humbled my djinni a bit I would think. But no, Oriya was actually _mesmerized. _Feh, it was only because he probably hadn't seen too many magical displays in his time. I imagine it had a similar effect to that of an eighteen-year-old boy when the stripper finally arrived at his birthday party. Not that I would know anything about this personally…

The floorboards rippled as though transfigured into water and a vague glossy white shape took form within the fading maroon light. The shape continued to expand in detail as it circled slowly behind the curling ribbons, which lanced forward to wrap around arms and what I took to be the waist, neck and eventually legs. One delicate foot came down and the big toe plucked the waterized floorboards like the string of a harp, creating exactly the same sound of the instrument itself. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrow, unimpressed.

The minutiae continued to take shape, as though an invisible artist was tracing the lines of life upon a blank canvas. Finally, it became distinguishable as the smooth, flawless, sexless body of a stunningly beautiful article. White and black feathers exploded from the ribbons and surrounded the smooth creature, capturing it from sight for a moment until, with another flash of light, (not to mention an eardrum bursting soprano note from the Invisible Vienna Boys Choir) the djinni was revealed in human form. Fully clothed, I was relieved to see. He posed with one long pale arm crooked behind his head, the remaining feathers sliding down his nubile body and the ribbons caressing every appendage like adoring lustful snakes. At long last the special effects faded away to nothing, the ribbons wrapping around his wrists and up along his arms to form silk like bands. Feet, clasped in expensive black boots, touched down upon the ground, but only the very toes grazed the now still and silent floorboards. I picked up my vacated glasses and slid them back along the bridge of my nose, glancing over at Oriya from the corners of my eyes. He looked captivated and I actually couldn't blame him.

It pains me to admit but the djinni was without a doubt the most striking man to ever exist in the casual world. Perhaps not the most handsome but by far the most androgynously pretty creature to take human form. Which came as no surprise, considering that he copied the body of the most beautiful demon in Hell and then killed the demon so that he alone possessed that body. It was sincerely difficult to tear your eyes away from him. Though his attitude made it easier once he opened his cheeky mouth.

He was of medium height and slender, his waist a tiny pinch and legs both long and perfectly sculptured, his thighs as slight as the area bellow the knee. Lucky son of a bitch. He had plum colored hair, more black than purple, which clashed nicely with his milk white blemish less skin; more pale and smooth than even Muraki's. His lips were the soft and the most inoffensive shade of pink and his eyes the color of old blood, lined by black eye pencil that gave him a very catlike appearance, enforced by his somewhat defined canines. The ends of his ears were pointed and he had a long rectangular clasp in the left, though each lobe was adorned with four dangling connected squares, each displaying an individual card symbol. His hair was nape length and tied back by a thin waif of cord, allowing the longer, somewhat spiky but in no means messy clumps of bangs and loose tresses to frame his delicately porcelain features. He was dressed completely in black; tight leather pants, vest with the front zipper undone all the way to the middle of his upper body and fingerless leather gloves; which happened to be _my _trademark, thankyou very much.

I allowed him to pose for a minute before breaking the silence and turning to my samurai beau who was still looking rather stunned. A rather handsome goldfish sort of stunned, that is.

"Oriya, meet Ichibana. Ichibana, meet-but-stay-a-respectful-distance-away-from, Oriya Mibu."

At first Ichibana did not offer to shake Oriya's hand or anything of the nature. Nope, he got to flirting right away. Still hovering a millimeter above the ground, he went to work with a few basic stretches to work out all his newly formed but apparently cramped, human muscles. One stretch involved moving side on and bending his upper body to waist height and stretching like a lazy cat, eyes shut, fingers linked, arms extended before his body and bum thrust out. He finally saw fit to adhere to Oriya's existence and floated over to him, leaning down close to invade his last two inches of personal space, ignoring me completely as per usual.

"Hmm… say, you _are _cuter face ta face." Ichibana mused as I proceeded to chuck a tantrum in the background, screeching threats like, '_Bind you up in a lamp and throw you into a dark musty cave!' _or, '_I'll grind your bones to make my thunder cakes!_' You know, those mature witty sorts of things. Ichibana smiled, sensing that he was winding me up and placed one hand (five perfectly manicured fingernails) against Oriya's face.

"We could have a lot of fun with this body, you and me. Pretty, no?" He leered, leaning forward and tilting his neck so that Oriya could take in the full sight and scent of his skin. "I mean, Yutaka's nice and all but he's not much compared ta this, eh?" My threats, meanwhile, were becoming more outlandish.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HIM OR I'LL BIND YOU INTO A URINAL CAKE AND STICK YOU IN THE MINISTRY'S TOILET WHEN MR. KONOE IS ON HIS FORD PILLS!"

Ichibana wrinkled his nose having the audacity to look slightly perturbed. "Eck! How unsanitary!"

Oriya made a gentlemanly noise of complaint and rested his hand on the back of Ichibana's lovely neck. Before I could succumb to a jealousy induced panic, the dark haired man won my heart forever by shoving the licentious djinni down hard against the floor as though he were little more than a levitating cigarette that needed to be extinguished.

"Sorry but you're not my type," He monotoned and I felt my heart flutter as he gave me one of those rare spine melting smiles. "I prefer blondes."

Rather than look offended, Ichibana sat up and smiled cheerfully. "Well, I suppose there's no sense in blaming someone for being impotent. Got ya work cut out for ya boss." Ignoring Oriya's indignant gasps, the djinni levitated upward, fixing his hair as he rose and then snapped his fingers, materializing a thin but fashionable cloak. Ichibana slung it around his body, pulling the hood up over his head, which was designed so that the left side could be drawn under his chin and tucked into his collar.

"Well, I'm off ta break some hearts." He declared casually, slinging open the doors that lead out to the yard and then stopping to look over his shoulder at us. "What time ye expectin' me home, boss? Eight o'clock, suntime?"

I was feeling generous, so I told him that he could return at ten o'clock rather than eight. "But you know the rules," I said sternly, shaking my finger at him. "No soul sucking, no killing, no this, no that, blah blah blah, we've been through this before, you know the drill."

"True." His crimson red eyes fell back on Oriya. "Question, handsome: Are the girls pretty in Kyoto?"

Oriya nodded. "Yes. Very pretty."

"And the boys?"

"Also very pretty. Some even prettier than the girls."

Ichibana smiled a little fiercely. "Very nice. I think I'm gonna like this town. On that note boss, while I'm out is there anythin' ya want me ta be gettin' ya? Chemicals, snacks, souvenirs, condoms? Don't know if you'll have much use for them though if Mr. Impotent fails to rise to the occasion."

I almost choked on my own breath whilst Oriya smiled in that maddeningly calm way I had come to interpret as him disassociating himself from the situation at hand.

"No! No… um… none of that will be necessary, Ichibana. Thankyou."

He shrugged. "Suit yerself. But don' come cryin' ta me when ye're infected wit' crabs and genital warts."

"I have neither crabs nor genital herpes." Oriya said with a frown and I went as red as a fire hydrant. So… he naturally just assumed that _he _was the one Ichibana was hinting at me sleeping with? Well, I mean, of course he was but hearing him sort of admitting responsibility filled me with a brief and uncontrollable excitement. I just wanted to leap on him, bad leg and all and rip his lovely pink yukata to shreds.

Ichibana of course knew my thoughts every bit as well as I knew his own. He winked at me confidentially, one white fingernail tapping his temple.

"But of course, Guardians cannot catch STI's can they? My mistake. Well, best be off while the aura's are lively and fresh. Got a feelin' I wont be the only one gettin' lucky tonight and I ain't just talkin' about the one whom gets with me, if ya catch my drift?"

On this cheeky note, he disappeared up into the dark sky, considerately leaving the doors open. I used this responsibility of closing them as an excuse to hide my hideously blushing features away from Oriya, feeling slightly uncomfortable now that the implication of sex had been so deliberately planted in the scene. It had of course been Ichibana's intention and not a cruel one at that. He was a teaser but not a malicious creature by nature. In some strange way, I guess he thought he was helping.

My God… having sex with Oriya… just imaging it; our bodies locked in sweaty embrace, voices crying out in ecstasy, fingers clenching sheets, the sound of skin slapping together, a wave of dark brain hair tossed backwards across a broad tanned back whilst the owner screamed indefinable passionate sounds at the ceiling as his hips bucked against my buttocks, allowing me a pleasure I had not ever found to be so euphoric.

"… I'm not sure how you could stand to have him in your glasses all day…" Oriya murmured, breaking through my once again far too detailed daydream. "I wouldn't want to be carrying around someone I couldn't stand."

I looked over my shoulder, surprised. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well… I assumed since the two of you couldn't get along for a second that-"

"Learn not to assume. I love that guy!" I exclaimed with a wide smile. From the look on Oriya's face I got the distinct impression that he was not expecting that. "It's like having one of my older siblings along for the ride! He's a pain in the ass but he can be a lot of fun! Anyway, enough about that, let's tend to your leg. How is it feeling?"

"Constantly throbbing," He confided as I retrieved my medical bag and knelt down by his side, all coital thoughts on hold in light of my professionalism. "It doesn't really start to ache though unless I move." He was silent for a moment and then, with barely restrained tears in his voice, he asked; "This is… bad isn't it? The leg was already dickey to begin with and now… I'll probably have to go back to that goddamn leg brace. Knee reconstruction… never walk properly again or move with ease." Oriya's face seized up, a mixture of both agony and despair. "Shit! What the Hell was wrong with me? I should have been more careful!"

I lowered my head. "I'm sorry… if it wasn't for my rash actions with that guy who… touched me…" I stopped, my voice dropping down into a black crevice and disappearing completely. I couldn't explain to Oriya why I had reacted so foolishly to one easily dismissible little grope. I shouldn't have let it get to me after all these years. It was no more his touch than the identical touch from Oriya had been.

But… it _was _different. I had chosen to let Oriya in; thus giving him permission to touch me. The man at the table had not and _that _was what made the touch the same as the one I had felt so many years ago. In a different lifetime. The unwanted touch that ultimately landed me here. And the memory of that touch had landed Oriya in the scattered remains of my broken life and they had cut him mercilessly to shreds.

I felt Oriya's fingers on my face. He lifted my chin up. "That's nonsense. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. He was in the wrong and I have done the exact same thing for any one of my staff that are mishandled by those using this establishment as a means of flouting their hormones. Don't you get it now? _That _is the reason I didn't want them to send you here. You're pretty and you look like fun and a good time. Your long hair and open smile makes men think they can have you."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Oriya had requested that the Ministry not send me because he was trying to _protect me? _From lecherous customers?

He looked on disapprovingly as I laughed. "That's the truth Yutaka. You shouldn't laugh at it if you have any respect for me at all."

I smothered my giggles in an effort not to upset him. "I'm sorry Oriya. But honestly, you don't think that someone like Hisoka, would be just as likely to attract unwanted advancements?"

He shifted a little and gritted his teeth against the pain of his injury. I held his hand until the wave passed and he was left in its wake a panting mess. His weary eyes finally reopened and looked into my own.

"Possibly but not as much as you would and have done so already. You need to understand that I have been doing this for a very long time; it is a requirement of my occupation. Men here are more likely to go for a male whom looks-"

"What? Easy?"

He looked at me angrily. "I was _not _going to say that. Do not put words in my mouth, sir. What I intended to say was men here are more likely to go for a male whom looks friendly, open to suggestion, feminine and most importantly experienced. Now I'm not sure how you would rank your sexual experience Yutaka but you move as though you have some. You're flirtatious, considerate and nurturing, you sway your hips when you walk, every second sentence is signed sealed delivered with a wink and your posterior is well defined, very much like a woman's. That boy, Hisoka, is indeed attractive in a whiny pubescent sort of way but he is cold and unapproachable. Men here would very well have made passes at him but would be less inclined to touch him because he appears underdeveloped, inexperienced and aloof. Sexually undesirable."

"Your pal Muraki didn't seem to think so." I hissed, anger flaring up inside of me.

Oriya's features froze and I realized, in one stunningly cold second of dread that flushed through every vein in my body like ice, that he had no idea what Muraki had done to Hisoka.

"… What… what do you mean like that…?" His voice had become so soft I could have gathered it together and made a pillow. Though I never wanted to rest my ear on such words that though supple were filled with such… antipathy. … No, not even that. Terrified… terrified of his doubts being given clause for their reality to take manifestation in this world as simply as Ichibana had, though without the special effects to make them seem beautiful.

003 cooed meekly from his perch in the corner. I had forgotten he was even in the room.

I decided to lie; I couldn't bear to see Oriya go through any more pain that night. My brain slipped into overdrive, shooting out an already plausible excuse.

"Well… you know what Muraki is like." I said ambiguously, clicking open the medical case and removing a pair of latex gloves, which I slipped on carefully. "Look at what he did to get his hands on Tsuzuki for God's sake! And it's kind of common knowledge that Hisoka is pretty fond of Tsuzuki, so I guess Muraki deals with his competitive urges by trying to make Hisoka as uncomfortable as possible. My point being is that if Muraki believes him to be sexually desirable, who's to say that other men would not?"

"I told you, that they probably would but not to the degree that they would you. It is difficult to explain." Oriya sighed and his handsome features crunched together like a knot of pain had just got into a fender bender right in the center of his face. He clutched the icepack on his knee, panting, and sweat popping out in sporadic patterns across his forehead. "Besides… Muraki's an asshole. And you said it yourself; he does it to make that kid feel uncomfortable. Now, enough about why I didn't tell the kid not to come. I wasn't picking on you, Yutaka. I promise you. I didn't want to have to baby sit anyone whilst the investigation was going on, protecting them from the crude advancements of my customers. It would slow progress down I figured and I didn't want anyone to have to go through that. It was a decision based purely on the best interests of all involved."

"I see." Said I without the hint of expression. I was mixing together a potion in a small pullout kit, which was already throwing up choking great clouds of smoke. Oriya regarded me inoffensively; his expression warped into what might have been livid through the spirals of steam.

"Still…" He said. "Now I am very glad that they sent you instead."

"They weren't going to send me. I had to beg to be allowed to take the case," I informed him tartly, adding the exact and carefully measured drop of Angel's blood into the elixir I was brewing. The potion sang a soft note as the tear hit the surface and a distinctive arch of golden light rose out of the beaker, turning the steam canary yellow.

Oriya's eyes widened slightly. "You begged to take the case? … Was it because you wanted to meet me?"

"Amongst other things," I said, thinking about the one that I loved and her body that now rested in a morgue somewhere. Oriya looked marginally frustrated by my lack of response. Well it couldn't be helped. I was brewing the potion that was going to give him his leg back, dammit! "I'm sorry. I do believe you and as such I thankyou for your thoughtfulness. I'm just mixing together a little something that should help your leg. My response should be more active once I'm done, okay?"

Oriya nodded, his expression marginally relaxed now that he realized I was not mad at him. He rested back on the palms of his hands, eyes on me the entire time.

"Yutaka… you are very considerate. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"My wife did."

There was a silence and I nearly miscalculated my next batch of ingredients as I came to the quite obvious conclusion that the mention of my wife most likely made Oriya uncomfortable. I looked up from the bubbling potion for a minute to meet his eye. He was still watching me, completely unreadable.

"I'm sorry." I said. "It must make you uncomfortable to hear about my marriage. I'm sorry."

He smiled. "Like I said; very considerate." His smile grew and he laughed softly. "Why should it make me uncomfortable, cher? Just because you are a Guardian of Death? Those of us who exist in this world often marry and divorce, or lose their partners in accidents. I've had a lover before whose husband had died. _Not you_." He answered cheekily before I could even ask the question he supposedly thought I was going to ask. Of course it would have been impossible for him to have dated _my _wife. "In so saying, I'm pretty used to hearing about ex-partners. I was silent because I just felt a little sad."

"For me? If so, don't be. No reason to feel sad for me!" I said beaming. He shook his head.

"No. I felt sad because you wanted to know so much about me when you stepped into my world and I know nothing about you. I haven't even bothered to ask." He looked up at me, his expression uncomfortably serious. "Would you tell me? We can talk over dinner. I'll have it brought to us and I can learn a little more about who you are, Yutaka Watari. I would like that."

I dropped the final ingredient into the potion, my smile lacing up my cheeks like elaborative embroidery of contentment.

"I would like that too. But first, we should fix this leg right up. Here you go, it's best to drink it when it's hot." I plucked the little tube away from the Bunsen burner, extinguishing the flame with a muttered spell. Oriya looked at the sparkling gold fluid skeptically.

"What is this exactly?"

"A healing elixir I created. It proves highly effective against mortal injuries as long as they are treated within two hours of infliction. Guardians unfortunately, cannot induce it."

"Is it safe?" he gave the tube a little tap with his fingernail as though doing so would reveal any dangerous side affects. I nodded.

"Oh yes, perfectly safe. I went through about seventeen test subjects before I managed to get it right. Including you, this will make eighteen! … I'm kidding!" I laughed as he tried to crawl away from me, a look of disbelief on his face. "It's made from a donation of angels blood, given as a gift to the Ministry of Hades from Heaven itself. Angel's blood can mend any mortal wound but is highly toxic in large quantities. If guardians are exposed to even a minimum amount of it, it can cause catastrophic damage. To us, it is similar to breathing in refuse from radiation. That's why I use the smallest amount possible, whilst making up the difference with additional medicinal substances and herbs that nullify the toxic effect angel's blood has. You wont need knee reconstruction if you take this! It goes directly into your bloodstream so it should reach your knee in about… half an hour at most. It will numb the pain enough for me to effectively jot your kneecap into place without too much difficulty. Your leg should be back to normal, although you may have a residual limp, which should take some time healing. Sorry, but I cannot do anything about your original injury… By the way, how was that caused if you don't mind me asking?"

His head was lowered but his voice reached my ears very clearly. "I fell."

I looked through the steam of the potion at him.

"Fell?"

He nodded. "An accident, some years ago now. I was sixteen. Fell down a cliff. Broke my leg in about half a dozen places. Broke my back too." He shrugged carelessly and plucked the potion out of my fingers, slugging it back in one go. "It's dreadful!" He added, pulling a face.

My mouth was suspended in a gasp that never came, hanging clear off the hinges. I'd never been afraid of heights before but the very idea of dropping down a cliff with no hope of saving yourself filled me with a new type of fear. If I had been alive and a child like Oriya had been, the horror of the experience alone would have been permanently scarring, never mind the injuries that would have resulted.

Oriya smacked his lips, his eyes creased and mouth pulled back in a grimace. "Terrible stuff. It had better work if it's cheeky enough to incinerate my taste buds." He noticed my expression and paused in the act of wiping his mouth on his yukata sleeve. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Y-You… broke your back?"

He nodded, seemingly unconcerned. "It was an accident. And since I was able to walk again, I don't see it as being altogether a serious one in retrospect."

The expression on his face was a complete contradiction to the casual use of his words. He wanted to appear flippant about what must have been a terrible period of his life. I'd seen people confined to wheelchairs after breaking their backs, never to walk again. I could only imagine how this must have affected someone like Oriya, a martial artist. A free spirit.

I finally understood the meaning behind his unconscious ramblings. '_It hurts… it hurts…'_

"Oriya…" I whispered sadly, for he had suffered so much.

"Don't Watari." He said, and his voice now possessed that cold admonition. "Don't pity someone like me. I'm not worth that."

"But-"

"I'll call for dinner," He said, ignoring my protests and retrieving a small pager from his yukata pocket. "And then, I want to hear about you. Considering what secrets you have learnt about me, I feel it is more so an obligation that I learn a little more about our resident science geek."

It was perfectly romantic until that closing line. Perhaps there was something to be said for contacts after all.

XxXxXxXxXx 

"Yutaka Watari; born on April the 18th at 1953. Age at death; 28. Was married at 19 to high school sweetheart Tamiko. Favorite food is Italian. Favorite color is coral. Apparently enjoyed swimming as a hobby and has a love/hate relationship with Hokkaido Crabs."

"It's so hairy!" I squealed gleefully, trying to crack the legs off an entire crab by beating the bastards' squat furry body against the plate whilst holding onto the legs. Oriya watched this display in amusement for a while before he mercifully extricated the crab from my hands and snapped the legs off with barely a flick of his wrist. He handed them back across the table to me with a tolerant smile. "Tell me a little more about your life when you were alive. You say you had a PHD in Mechanical Engineering? That must have been interesting."

"I like to make stuff." I declared through a mouthful of crabmeat. To be honest, I didn't like crab all that much but I didn't want to offend Oriya by turning down any of his food. Therefore, the crabmeat went down with quite a bit of difficulty. I managed it though, albeit with a few good concentrated saké chases to ease the transition process. Then, like a nightmare, Oriya conjured another crab as though from thin air and the entire leg twisting, beating, saké-gulping process began afresh. Crab… King crab… (Nuzzles crab) I ate crab more so for the novelty of it, rather than any obligation to my stomach. "I was married in my second year at University, so it was difficult to balance my responsibilities out equally. It must have annoyed my wife. She used to get in my face about it sometimes. I would get so wound up in my assignments and projects that I wouldn't have much time for her. Must have been a bastard to live with."

"Were you together long?"

I managed to get through my last leg of crab without needing a chug of saké to wash it down. Mrs. Koneko diligently moved forward to take our trays away, leaving me sitting face to face with Oriya, nothing between us. I felt an uncomfortable stirring in my stomach, which had nothing to do with my digestive system trying to bitch slap the crab into submission.

"Everything was wonderful, thankyou." I smiled at Mrs. Koneko, ignoring Oriya's question in place of manners. He too thanked his housekeeper before drawing his eyes back to me expectantly, tapping his fingers on the now rather floppy icepack across his knee. It gave me the perfect excuse to change the topic. "You know, I think that potion must have reached your knee by now. It should be feeling warm around the injury. Do you feel any heat there?"

Oriya shifted a little. "Not really. I feel warmth moving through my thigh but not down near the injury, no."

I shuffled over to his side and set my hands on the area of his leg, just above the bruised kneecap, feeling for the change in skin temperature that indicated the rapidity of the elixirs movement. Sensing nothing, I moved my hands up a little further, fingers wrapped around his thigh and thumbs rubbing in a circular motion. I could see the mark from where I had pinched him before. About halfway up his thigh I felt the heat that signaled the process of the elixir.

"It's moving slowly but your circulation must be a little sluggish as a result of the previous accident. That's to be expected. By making some motions here, I should be able to manipulate the blood flow," I said working both hands up and down the tanned skin, rubbing hard enough to work any knots out of the muscle. Oriya made a little noise that had nothing to do with pain. I glanced up to see that his face had a very serene expression on it, no smile but any pain either. And I realized how simply this moment had turned from a mere excuse for avoiding a thorny subject, to something quite sensual. Seeing that Oriya was enjoying my ministrations, I continued to increase the pressure in my palms and fingers, moving them further up his thigh and then down again, rubbing both underneath and above. He murmured gruffly, his head tilted back like a big puppy dog that I was lavishing attention on. I enjoyed that indulgent expression on his face.

"Mmm… wish I'd had you taking care of me all those years ago. You do a lot more for me than those damn chiropractors ever did." He held up his finger, showing me the little band-aid. "This is the second time you've treated my injuries tonight. Starting to think I owe you something."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" I exclaimed, leaning forward and pushing aside the icepack so I could place a kiss against his bruised knee. I beamed up at him. "I forgot to kiss and make better, this one. A doctor should be more concise, eh?"

"Yes, I suppose he should." Oriya said, though he sounded distracted. I moved my hands down his thigh, setting my fingers gently on the knee. I could feel the heat of the elixir beneath his skin. "It should be taking effect now. Do you feel slightly less discomfort from the injury?"

"A little." He said.

"Do you feel any pain when I press down? Or does it just make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Little uncomfortable. No big deal."

"Good!" I said cheerfully. "That means I can pop your knee cap back into place!"

He looked shocked. "Right now?"

"Yes right now!" I chirped, rolling up my sleeves and setting my fingers on the roguish kneecap. "The sooner it's back in, the sooner the elixir can start to take effect. And the sooner you'll feel better. I'll get you to count to five, in your own time and then I'm going to pop it right back in. Shouldn't hurt too much. Ready?"

"I guess…" He said, looking less than thrilled. I nodded and he started to count to five. Slowly, his face already pinched in prospective pain. "One… … …. Two…."

"Threefourfive!" I sang and roughly sank the kneecap back into place with a loud crack. Oriya bellowed like a startled walrus and smacked me hard across the mouth. Sharp pain flared through my jaw and I was thrown backwards, my head snapping from the apex of my spine. "HEY! There's no need for _that_!"

"What do you mean, 'No need for that!' You told me to count to five in my own goddamn time!" He roared, holding onto his knee as though the leg were about to take off break dancing of its own accord.

I touched my swollen lip tenderly, feeling hot wetness against my fingers. "I'm bleeding you great oaf! And haven't you learnt anything from taking care of kids? It's the same principle as removing band-aids from their scrawny little arms, you don't tell them when you're going to rip so they won't expect it! It gets it over and done with faster!"

The pain in Oriya's leg seemed to be dimming, as did his temper. Though a part of me, the part closest to my bleeding lip was starting to wish it would go on a little longer. The pain, not his temper. He carefully bent his leg, winced and then appraised me carefully, his dark eyes apologetic.

"You're right. I apologize for hitting you."

"You big bully! That hurt!" I said with tears in my eyes. "After I've taken care of you all evening this is how you repay me!"

"I know. You're right, I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't lash out at people like that! You never know what-" I was unable to finish the rest of my sentence, as Oriya had grabbed a handful of my collar, pulled me against his body and swallowed my bleeding lips between his own. I could feel his tongue lapping the hot liquid away and sliding across the tiny cut he had made whilst it healed. It feels wrong to admit but something about that moment was vaguely erotic. I groaned, forgetting all about being angry with him and twisted my arm around his shoulder, clinging to him like a vine upon latticework. As his tongue entered my mouth and began to explore the creases and crevices hidden within that warm nook, I could not find myself distracted from his meandering hand, which had settled upon its apparently favorite roost once more. That being my backside. He squeezed me tightly and my mouth fell away from his to release an embarrassingly aroused moan of pleasure as his fingernails clenched around the lowest inward curve, which was so very close to my now active desire. Oriya regarded me like a victorious predator, his lips tweaking up as though to show that my reaction had pleased him.

"I believe that one kiss has been enough to successfully remedy this situation, wouldn't you say my dear Guardian of Death?"

I spluttered in protest as he released me, wanting to do so much more now that I'd been granted that tiny sample but Oriya had noticed something I had not. There had been a knock upon the door.

"Come in." He called and Mrs. Koneko entered, holding a bundle of black and blue and maroon material in her hands, folded carefully of course. "Ah, thankyou Mrs. Koneko. Just leave it here by my side."

Mrs. Koneko placed the material down on the floor by Oriya and bowed at the both of us. She was polite enough to ignore my ridiculous pose, which had me sprawled out across the floor with my legs crooked at the knee in an attempt to hide the slight bulge in my pants. She merely bowed and dismissed herself from our company, closing the door behind her. As soon as the wooden slats had erased the last visible inch of space, I was on my feet again and I dove for Oriya intending to throw him backwards and smooch him until he was thrashing for breath. But Oriya was a lot nimbler than I expected with that leg and managed to twist far enough to the side so that I landed on my face.

"Oww…" I complained, pushing myself off of the dirty floorboards and wiping dust bunnies off of my glasses. "Oriya, you can be such a tea-… ee…" I was unable to finish the sentence. My eyes must have looked like big googly dinner plates from behind my glasses and I'm almost positive that I had been reduced to the state of dribbling again. Only this time, I wasn't entertaining a daydream.

Oriya laced his fingers around the folds of his yukata and drew them apart delicately with his fingernails, revealing his tanned, muscled body all the way down to his navel. I could feel blood rushing to my cheeks. I don't know how any blood managed to make it into my face at all, considering that most of it was being redirected toward an important detour down south. My teeth were damn near biting through my lip as he casually slid one arm out of the sleeve and the moved to release the other one, leaving one half of his upper body entirely exposed. Fantastically sculptured contours, a rippled abdomen and flat stomach, wide shoulders, strong beautifully shaped arms and erect copper nipples…

"What are you doing!" I yelled, unsure to whom I was speaking. He looked over at me questioningly, his right arm already halfway out of the sleeve.

"… Changing…?" He replied tentatively, as though afraid that this may have been the wrong answer. I wanted to turn my back on him, give him some privacy but the perverted side of me was much happier facing him, though I just wished I could reign in my body a little better. I was sending strict mental warnings to my nether regions, which came off sounding like a drug store holdup: "_Do not… move." _But when has any mans penis ever listened to him? I was actually more concerned about my face, which was burning up so badly it was a wonder the sprinkler system didn't come on.

"Changing?" I repeated meekly. He nodded, still frozen in premature changing rictor mortis.

"It's the evening and I've been told to rest. In the evening, I change into my evening yukata. So I can be comfortable." He regarded me carefully, like someone would a dangerous rattlesnake and then said, with a hint of sarcasm, "Is that okay?"

I was trying to hide underneath the loose tresses of my hair. "You're quite content to do it in front of me?"

"Well I can't exactly get up and go into another room. Besides, we're both adults. You're a doctor, I'm sure you've seen this and more before."

'_No… I've never really seen a body like yours before. Discounting Tsuzuki of course…' _I thought to myself, head drooping down and trying desperately to train my eyes on the floor. '_Oooh… this is bad. Tatsumi would kill me. Mr. Konoe will probably fire me, as if I wasn't infringing on the case already due to personal reasons! I'm such an idiot…' _"Hey, are you all right?" For Oriya had ceased in undressing and was clenching his teeth in discomfort, arm still halfway out of the sleeve. I moved to his side, battering away my hyperactive hormones with a mental fly swat.

"Uh… my backs a little tender. That kick must have set off the old injury there too." He looked up at me imploringly. "I don't suppose you would mind helping me change, would you?"

…

I wondered what I had done that God was so pleased about.

I tried to sound casual about this. "Oh sure, sure. No problem at all."

He smiled knowingly at me as I moved behind him. "Sure your delicate libido is up to the task, Yutaka?"

"I'm sure I can handle it." I said, trying to sound confident but my fingers were shaking as I placed them on the collar of his yukata, which was halfway down his broad and beautifully toned back. I wanted to touch the skin so badly; to dig my fingernails into his lovely flesh and trail my lips across the slight indent where so long ago an accident had broken him. And at the same time, the less than hormonal part of me wanted to fling my arms around his chest, cage him in tightly to me and spew a thousand cheesy, soppy promises I had no hope of keeping. And to make known to him a thousand of my own hurtful, shameful secrets without feeling the need to change the conversation.

Oriya noticed my hesitation and glanced over his shoulder. "Hey… you can start anytime you know. I won't bite."

'_No. That would be too much to hope for_,' I thought bitterly, helping him shrug his arm out of the yukata sleeve and allowing it to slide from his lean body. He was wearing boxers underneath the robes, for which I was a little disappointed but figured that it was ultimately a positive thing, otherwise I would have just ended up dribbling down his back. Which men found so very sexy, oh yes indeed.

I patted his bottom gently. "Lift your ass up so I can slide this off." He did as he was told which gave me a feeling of supreme coolness as I undid the black and white checkered band from around his waist and whipped the evicted yukata out from underneath Oriya. He grunted as he took the weight off of his hands and settled back on the floor, completely naked now except for his black and gray boxer shorts. My face was flushed. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to touch him all over, trail my fingers across every curve, every patch of skin, every little scar, every little imperfection, everywhere… I now understood the power beauty wields over man. Here we were, basically complete strangers and I had already resigned myself to my attraction. And it wasn't the attraction one would ascertain momentarily whence considering a one night stand or even a momentary fling, no. I had enormous respect for Oriya. I wouldn't dare encroach upon him if he did not desire me, or my affections. … However, if he happened to get totally stinko and under the influence invited me back to his bedroom, I wouldn't have been fool enough to say no. Hey, I'm a man not Christ incarnate. I finished dressing Oriya, uplifted by my thoughts and no longer needing to stare at him like a dry-eyed goldfish. At least not for a few seconds anyway.

I looked down at the back of his head, taking note of the tangles and knots that had accumulated within the chocolate mane, perhaps on account of 003's foraging for a new home. Most likely as a result of his collapse on the deck outside. I ran my fingers downward through the tangles and watched Oriya tilt his head back, announcing a small sound of protest as I hit a snag.

"Hey… would you like me to brush your hair?" I asked, my fingers already trailing downwards over his scalp, spreading the loose strands across his shoulders. Oriya made a deep murmur in his throat, clearly enjoying the attention. "It should help you relax."

"There's a hairbrush in the second drawer of that cabinet just over there," He purred, trailing one hand back to run across my thigh. A shiver ran up my spine. "While you're over there, you can turn the radio on. I'd like to listen to some music. Would that be all right with you?"

He could have asked me if I minded setting my hair on fire and dancing the Can-can whilst singing Ave Maria and I would have agreed whilst he had his hand on my leg. Oriya settled himself into a more comfortable position, smiling indulgently as I crossed the room, switching on the radio first and finding myself imminently wooed by a soft sensuous female voice. A love ballad.

…

Was there something else at work here or was fortune merely running my way for once? I took it as a good sign in any event and retrieved the brush from the cabinet drawer with a skip in my step. The brush had a jade handle and the bristles were soft but firm at the ends. It was completely clean, which was kind of strange considering the length of Oriya's hair. He must have cleaned it very meticulously and recently at that.

I sat down behind Oriya and then scooted forward so that my knee's pressed up against his lower back. I worked the red rope like cord out from the base of his hair and set it on the floor beside me. Oriya shook his hair out, sending the straight brown tresses swaying across my thighs. I scooped my hands underneath the thick delicious waves and separated it as best I could, into three rough parts. Starting at the left side and from the crown of his head, I began to work the tangles out with my fingers, my heart beating a little faster as I handled what must have been the most troublesome yet beautiful hair I had ever seen. The muscles in Oriya's shoulders moved languidly to match the movements of my hands. His fingers cinched slightly at the joints. I had the distinct impression that his eyes were closed and his breathing slightly accelerated to match my own. Having someone else brush your hair, especially when your hair was long like ours, was a sensation suspended somewhere between contentment and delicate stimulation.

My fingers caught in another knot and I got to work untangling it, smoothing out the hair once it was free and then stroking my fingernails down from his scalp again, inhaling his scent unconsciously as I did so. His hair contained the aroma of apples, most likely his shampoo and deeper than that, the underlying presence of male sweat. I worked my fingers from the top layer of hair to the bottom, every inch as lovely as the last. The only sound in the room was the soft music from the radio, a woman's voice, rich in flavor and depth shared small confidences about love that was meant to work out differently and how the rain reminded her of all that she was denied. Lost in these secrets of which any fool whom ever loved could have spoken, I was overcome by the deliberate yearning to lay myself down in Oriya's arms and close my eyes. Sway against him. And fall in love in only seconds. Already, I wanted to be in love with him.

My fingers were now running free through his hair but I continued on in spite of myself, just wanting to touch and caress it with my own two hands for just a little while longer. Oriya rolled his shoulders lethargically, like an old lion shifting in its sleep.

"Hrrrmmm…" He murmured, and as I heard it, knew that it was no longer the sound of a man who was being soothed. I spread his hair out in a dark fan across his back and picked up the brush, setting it directly atop his cranium and running it down slowly, deliberately trying to intensify the sensation. Oriya's head tilted back on his neck. His back arched. He sighed deeply. It was a visual treat watching the slight movements of his body before me. With every tilt he came close to falling against me and I found myself almost wishing that it would happen. Though he'd probably just end up squashing me against the wall, which wasn't conducive to prolonged physical passion.

"I used to do this for my wife." I said as a means of breaking the silence and then mentally cursed myself into eternal oblivion for bringing Tamiko up again. Another sure fire way of snuffing out romance like a cigarette ember. But once again Oriya showed that unrivalled knack for remaining in his current emotional and physical state at the mention of my former sweetheart.

"You never answered my earlier question," He said slowly, in a voice that sounded as though he were drugged. It didn't serve to alter the mood in any way and I continued my task in the same peaceful manner I had started, alternating now between my fingers and brush strokes. "Although… I guess it makes sense that you avoided it. You died at twenty-eight so you mustn't have spent long together at all."

I shook my head, which was pointless because he couldn't see it anyway and concentrated entirely on working the brush all the way down to the base of his hair, which was atop the curve of his buttocks. His breath intake was sharp when the bristles glossed over this area.

"Tamiko and I were divorced two years after we married." I said as I brought the brush down from the top of his head again. "She had an affair. Can't blame her though. This was not too long after she caught me in bed with another man. She was perfectly entitled to take revenge."

Oriya had stilled completely. I guess I had his attention. I just wish it didn't have to be over such a depressing topic. I hated discussing my past.

"She got pregnant to another man," I continued, surprised at how easily I was able to discuss the facts without feeling the pain I once had. It was a long time ago I suppose. "I was a stupid selfish kid and I wouldn't take her back because she broke my heart. We lived apart for three years but saw one another on a regular basis. Either way, there was no chance of reconciliation. We could never love one another the way we once did. It was enough that we could stay friends."

I paused with my fingers in his hair.

"One day she came to visit me with her son. He liked to think of me as his father, since his real Papa wanted nothing to do with him but I was more like an Uncle figure. There was a horrible accident. I was standing at the window, staring out when I saw the car coming. She waved to me from the drivers seat, the kid in the passenger side. They both looked so happy, y'know? Tamiko turned the wheel to pull into the driveway. And some guy coming up the road from the oncoming lane suffered a heart attack and lost control. Smashed directly into the drivers side."

I felt warmth on my leg. Oriya's hand, touching me so considerately.

"The kid suffered minor head injuries. Could have been a lot worse. Tamiko didn't die but she lost both legs in the accident and suffered from internal hemorrhaging. Gave her a year or so to live and that gutsy little lady held on for four. She was so helpless and frail… the sight of anyone's tears or misery for her behalf terrified her. Really drilled home the fact that she was going to die. She knew that but she didn't want it to be the truth. She wanted to be okay. Whenever I came to visit her in hospital, she would beg me to tell her that she would be okay, even though it went against everything I knew was true. I'm a doctor… but then I was only her ex-husband and all she wanted from me was to lie so that she could be strong. So she could entertain a delusion. And so for her sake, I taught myself how to smile constantly and to laugh even when inside I was sad." I continued to brush Oriya's hair, finding myself disturbingly at ease with these facts. "I like to see people happy, Oriya. And so, it wasn't altogether a terrible thing that I learnt to do. And most of the time, I am sincerely happy! That's who I am." I smiled and leant around a little to peer into his face. "You haven't exactly seen me in finest form today but please don't think of me as too much of a crybaby! I'm really very chipper!"

"I know you are," Oriya said softly, running his fingernails down my cheek. "But… Yutaka…"

"Shhh…" I said, returning to my task with renewed vigor. "It happened a long time ago, Oriya. A different lifetime. I didn't grill you about your accident, so I'm sure you wont mind if we just let the topic slide for now, eh? Right now my thoughts are of you."

There was a silence then in which I suppose he turned over what I had told him and in which I immediately regretted confiding in him. Not that I didn't want Oriya to know about me. I didn't want to hide anything from him at any rate but it had been such an inappropriate moment to discuss it.

"Even if Tamiko had lived," I murmured, bringing the brush along the line of hair above his ear and brushing against the delicate shell in the process. "It would not have worked. A year or so later after our divorce, I came hurtling out of the figurative closet, so to speak. Which shouldn't suggest that I didn't love her and won't always love her. But I had been struggling with my sexuality before our split, which I think contributed to it in some ways. Obviously. Maybe on some deeper intuitive level she knew, even before seeing me in the arms of another man."

"I thought you didn't want to discuss it anymore."

"I don't."

"Well then?"

"I just… want you to know me." I mumbled inconsequentially as I focused a few strong brush strokes down along the line of hair across his neck. "… I've never actually told anyone that I'm gay before. I think Tsuzuki suspects, as limited as his own sexual experience is. He remarked once about only ever seeing me with guys… I generally just tell people that I'm bisexual."

Oriya leant back on his hands, looking thoroughly relaxed again. The radio continued to coo love songs to us from across the room. 003 was fighting a gargantuan war with what must have been a flea of Ghangis Khan proportions in his feathers.

"Why not tell them the truth? Are you afraid of what an open establishment of being gay might mean?"

I chuckled. "I know it sounds stupid. But I guess as long as it's not definite, I feel safe."

"If you're with me, you could come right out and say it. I wouldn't let anyone hurt you."

The brush slowed to a halt in its movements in his hair and was left suspended as I froze in bewilderment and then recovered well enough to sling my arms around his chest, burying my face into his hair in the process.

"Well, remind me to keep you in tow if anyone ever gives me lip about my happy homosexual ways!" I said, releasing him and returning to my task, all the while trying not to get too invested in the idea that I had stumbled across an angel in human form. Oriya simply patted my leg as we lapsed back into silence, I completely uplifted and wearing a smile that could have wrapped around my head twice. After a while Oriya started to make those little purrs of satisfaction again, his fingers bending and clenching at nothing but the floorboards.

I guess looking back now, that it must have been one of the most serene moments we shared during the investigation. In hindsight I wish that I hadn't wasted a second on past concerns and old scars. In light of what happened later, it was a wonderful, perfect scene.

A new song began. One that I recognized.

"This is my favorite!" I shrilled as I pressed my cheek against the crown of Oriya's head, tentatively winding my arms around his shoulders. He didn't stiffen or shift uncomfortably by instead accepted my affectionate embrace by resting his hand atop my own, the one still holding the brush.

"It's in English." He declared as I closed my eyes, swaying against his body with utter contentment. "Can you understand it?"

I nodded. "Yes, of course! Don't forget that my parents were gaijin's! My English is 100 per cent perfect-o! Possibly even better than my Japanese!"

"You're not that difficult to understand, Cher." Oriya chuckled, wrapping his hand around my fist and brushing his thumb across the back of my knuckles. My smile was so big by this point that I must have looked completely crazed. "Tell me what the song is about. Can you translate it?"

A minor _pensée _pertaining to spoken language: English lyrics have never failed to sound more stupid then when one attempts to translate them into easily understood Japanese terminology. Even a song with such moving simplicity as _I have Dreamed _from 'The King and I' was unable to withstand the butchery my inept skills of cross-cultural translation put it through. Oriya was kind enough to sit and nod through my bumbling tirade as though it were pithy insight. By the time I had finished though we fell into a heated debate, not about my translation amazingly enough, but the romantic representation within the song.

"My understanding, as such, is that the narrator is informing his unaware lover of his dreams and the first thing he tells them is that he has been dreaming of their arms?"

I had been rocking against his body up until that point but froze at his words. "Well… this is probably my fault but the narrator is actually singing about how he dreamt that the arms of his loved one were lovely. Which isn't to imply that he was dreaming about disembodied arms. … Or that he was planning to eat the arms or anything…"

Oriya raised his head over his shoulder to shoot me a rather quizzical expression. "That wasn't what I was saying. It just seems strange to me that one would dream about someone's arms. Wouldn't it be more romantic say, to dream about their eyes?"

I considered his words. "No… not necessarily. Whilst dreaming about the eyes of your loved one is indeed romantic, the implied connotation of someone's arms is that in cherished persons' arms we find peace and security. If you dream of how lovely their arms are, then it seems to me you would be thinking of yourself in their embrace, safe and protected from the world. Drawn in close to them, one with them, entangling and overlapping. Completely and utterly cosseted from the world. At least, that's what I think." I concluded with a smile.

Oriya's eyes, which were indeed very lovely, now gazed up fondly into my own. He shook his head softly, bangs swaying across his shadowed forehead. But the gesture was neither bemused nor embarrassed. He appeared to be quietly moved.

"You are certainly quite the romantic." He established, moving his head back to rest against my shoulder. I froze for a second and then slowly placed my cheek against his forehead, only closing my eyes when I saw his own eyelashes flutter down into place. "An irresponsible sort of romantic at that. I don't see things as deeply as you do, I suppose. Akemi probably already mentioned it to you but I'm not an easy person to care for. If you hadn't said a word I doubt I would ever have understood why a person would dream of the arms of their loved one."

"Aww…. I'm sure you would have!" I smiled, running my fingers along his arm, tracing out the subtle muscle patterns beneath the wall of his yukata. I felt a slight shiver trace up through his body at my touch, which I supposed had more to do with the sensation than it did with the person whom was extending it. Oriya, I learnt later, was quite the sensualist. An introverted one at that however, who did not seek it out but waited until it came bumbling up to him. Soggy and filthy in my case. "I happen to think that you're quite lovable and I won't have you putting yourself down in front of me! And your arms, I'll have you know, are quite lovely indeed."

**003: **_(Dotard)_

Oriya made a small sound of gentle amusement, a nuance with no mockery observable within it. "Thankyou Yutaka. That's… very sweet."

Now that I think about it, perhaps that song had more to do with my situation with Oriya than I had originally perceived. The song spoke of a tortured soul, biding their time in an obscure lovelorn purgatory, dreaming of someone whom they idealized from a distance with little more to base their attraction on then fantasies and daydreams. I suppose that's why I have become so enamored to the song now. Because it speaks of the subtle, underlying trepidation I had of this premature attraction and explained why I had so easily fallen for him, after knowing the man for barely one day. "_In these dreams, I've loved you so, that by now I think I know; what it's like to be loved by you-"_

Yes indeed. Truer words than even I, an irresponsible romantic could have fathomed the obvious meaning behind. I was lost in a subtle translation that was far deeper than mere language could reveal.

At first Oriya had only been a query in my mind; just another puzzle, another riddle I spent the idle hours ticking over, attempting to unravel and spread out in a neatly established solution. I wanted to unearth the bare motives, understand his reasoning behind his ties to Muraki, his immortal like abilities and strip away his complex web of ambiguity which surmounted his lovely form in such abundance, that one bare meeting was enough for even a spectator like me to become wholly saturated. It was only ever meant to be a passing thought, a late night ponder to put me to sleep. But that tiny little deliberation evolved into something that penetrated deep into my dreams and one bare second unattended in my days became colonized by thoughts of him. I hadn't been altogether honest with Tsuzuki when I'd spoken candidly of my attraction to the swordsman. It hadn't been a sudden brazen moment of Eureka! I didn't come to the conclusion that Oriya could so effectively solve my bitch of a (somewhat questionable) love life. No. Oriya was only ever intended to stimulate my brain. Never to evolve into a real live human being with beautiful eyes and sensuous mouth and a gruff but wholly desirable voice. To me, he wasn't supposed to represent attraction or god forbid, love. He was enigma. Nothing more. But yet… did I only tell myself that so I would have an excuse to think about him more than was ever necessary? I believe I did. I was quite adept at fooling myself about these sorts of things.

Oriya was a ghost. Eternally drifting in this day and age, which was so undeserving of him. Waiting, poised, adrift in exile. These thoughts had planted dangerous little seeds in the far corners of my mind, back when I had thought my pondering to be innocent. And from there, those seedlings sprouted like creepers and had grown to cover every other previous thought I had ever entertained about Oriya. The mind is very much like a creeper vine I suppose; before you really understand your true intentions you have nothing but the blank wall. But as you learn more, about the person, situation, or in my case about my own feelings, the vines start to grow from the base of the wall and spread upwards until it has taken hold completely and nothing of the previous structure is visible. This was how it took a hold of me. One brief meeting, which hardly classified since no pleasantries were exchanged. (Though in light of the situation, who has time for pleasantries?) But my thoughts had been of him ever since. My thoughts and then my dreams. It was just absurd! I barely knew the man! But somehow… though it admittedly sounds stupid, and it is, I felt as though I knew him far better than one day could have ever allowed me. Was it possible what that song preached? Could you experience someone's love, understand it and envision it simply by dreaming of it? Is that why I felt as though I had already been loved by him, prior to that day?

I don't know. But I imagine that were a possibility to become reality, it would be in this place.

In Kyoto; my land of dreams.

We sat that way for a while, faces touching, my arms around him and his body, not exactly leaning on mine but unobtrusively resting, simply listening to the closing lyrics. I felt very happy in those moments. My favorite love song and I had a chance to actually enjoy it with someone I cared for. My last boyfriend had laughed it off and very nearly soiled the entire experience for me. Oriya was much more obedient however and I was able to fully appreciate the soppy sentimental-ness, without feeling like a big dork about it. I never really thanked him for that. For how much it meant to me, that we could be quiet and still together for a few very short, but deeply treasured moments.

"_Alone and awake I've looked at the stars, the same that smile on you;  
And time and again I've thought all the things,_ _That you were thinking too._  
_I have dreamed that your arms are lovely,_ _I have dreamed what a joy you'd be._  
_I have dreamed every word you whisper._ _When you're close,_  
_Close to me._  
_How you look in the glow of evening,_ _I have dreamed and enjoyed the view._  
_In these dreams I've loved you so, that by now I think I know._  
_What it's like to be loved by you.  
I will love being loved_

_I will love being loved_

_I will love being loved by you."_

The song ended and I paid it a justly earned moment of respect, with a modest round of applause. Small change for the moment it had hosted for Oriya and I, but the sentiment was there. Besides, it was difficult to think of anything better to do when Oriya's fingers were brushing the underside of my chin, his dreamy eyes the very definition of 'bedroom.' He sat up a little straighter, so that I was no longer staring down at him. Guess he preferred feeling dominant to me, not that I had any objection to that. His fingers gently disentangled mine from the jade brush, which fell to the floor with a far less eloquent thud. He filled the now empty space between my fingers with his own, twining his fingers about mine and fishing them down sensuously to brush against the upper ridge of my palm. His thumb came up to stroke the small vein that ran down from my index finger to the patch of skin that connected my thumb. I was so caught up in the movements of his experienced hands that I barely noticed that his lips had breached the point of no return in regards to my personal space. There was simply no chance now that he would be turning back without encountering at least one kiss from me. It was surprising that these circumstances did not terrify him. I've known people that would prefer to kiss Mr. Konoe on the mouth rather than me. Unfortunately, for my camera and me they were not prepared to back it up, which would have provided me with many years of excellent blackmail material. But that is another story. One you will not ever hear repeated as it is quite bruising on my "delicate" little ego. The speech marks there are intended to portray what is known as _sarcasm. _If you have any idea what I am like at all, you would be well aware that that my ego is hardly easy to cripple. But yes, moving along. What was Oriya up to by that point? … Oh yes, that's right, he had his spare hand pressed to my neck and halfway across my cheek and ear. He was smiling at me, holding me in place so my mouth was a tiny stone's throw from his own, his grin only growing as I struggled to keep from panting like a teenager in his first home made porn video. I tried to dart forward to capture his lips as though they were an evasive Pickachu and I was a Pokéball, but his strong hand didn't allow my head any leeway at all. I was firmly held in place and even my guardian like strength had no effect on him. Interesting…

He smiled as I emitted a pathetic puppy like whine and brought my ensnared hand around to run across my cheek, his own fingers brushing the flesh between my own. My eyes squeezed shut and I tried to cut my desperate panting off at the neck before I was reduced to groveling at his feet for one merciful touch of his mouth against my own. Though Oriya's beauty was indeed worthy of the god's, I was not yet prepared to beg him for any favors. Maybe later.

In a desperate bid to gain his attentions I heard my wavery voice question him, less casual and unconcerned than I had been aiming for.

"Is there anything you would like to do now?" I asked as I trailed my hand around underneath Oriya's chin, running my fingers across his throat and the shadows that formed where his neck met the structure of his jaw. I was a witness to his delight at that one brief touch. But he didn't answer my question right away as I'd been hoping, drawing out this sensuous experience and milking it for all it was worth. His composure was an emotional treat. The silence only further allowed the lethargic haze of lust opportunity to stalk from its' hiding place and stretch its' claws out one at a time. It was the calm before what I hoped would be a wild and incalculable storm. A moment of heated electricity before the snap of movement and a powerful strike which would send all poised senses into panicked disarray; skittering mindlessly to the outer regions of my mind and body.

Oriya moved his hand away from my neck and placed it atop my own, sinking his fingers down between mine and entangling them. He bore my thumb up towards the corner of his lips. My eyes widened, my pledge to placate my breathing pattern falling apart like patchwork fabric as he slipped my thumb between his lips and gently kissed and sucked on it. I could feel my face burning predictive of my boldness, as I ran my spare hand down his chest and fished it beneath the folds of his yukata, gently touching the pads of my fingers to his already pert nipple. The front of my body was pressed along his back and I arched against him as I felt a shiver go down his spine, like a jolt of electricity directly from his brain. He kissed my thumb again and then pressed the side of his face against my palm.

"I think that I would like to taste your lips." He answered at last, his voice as husky and alluring as I had only ever imagined it in those dreams. "I think-" I gasped as his hand snagged a hold of my hair a little roughly. "- I think I would like that very much. … Yutaka…"

"Say my… name again… please…" And so easily I was reduced to begging, without the least bit of shame to whom I was begging to. A man whom restored the reputation of a man whom killed at whim and fancy. This deceiver I had every surge of affection and desire for, merely smiled understandingly at my lapse in self-control, the fist on the back of my head, relaxing just enough so that the individual strands of hair were not tugged sharply from my scalp.

"Yutaka…" He conceded to this one drop of water to be placed upon the lips of a man whom by all rights was dying of thirst. He used the hand in my hair to lead me around his body until with a powerful thrust, he liberally threw me over his shoulder with nary the slightest show of effort on his behalf. The entire world spun in a very cliché manner before I landed in his lap, the blood rushing in my head as I was cushioned from impact by his strong arms, one supporting me by my shoulders, whilst the other traced dangerous insinuations across the curve of my waist. My brain eventually righted itself and I extended my appreciation by running my fingers over his cheeks and down across his full, divine lips. His breathing increased rapidly when I touched him, his eyes hot from beneath the sharp juts of his bangs.

"May I take your hair out?" He asked me, twining one of my perpetually loose tresses around his index finger and then teasing it across his lower lip playfully. I nodded, wanting to look as beautiful for him as my limitations would allow, allowing him to untie the orange bow from my ponytail. The liberated blond locks fell away from my head like the moving on of the Sakura from the branch to which it had clung to so faithfully for so many months. Oriya liberally scooped his hand into the thick, wavy, tiresome clumps, which was something of a trademark sign of a preoccupied mechanical engineer, and bunched it into a fisted bun on the back of my head as he ducked his mouth down to meet my own in a fiery kiss. Oh God, oh god, oh god, oh… GOD! If you do have a room lined up in Heaven for me, please pattern it with a big long line of Oriya's who have nothing better to do for an eternity but to kiss me. Dear sweet merciful Lord of Heaven, Hades, Hell and all Fast food agencies, I had _never _in all my fifty years of existence, found myself encaged within a kiss like his. All at once it was able to be soothing, deep, involving, passionate and arousing. And all without compromising his gentlemanly demeanor. I simply melted like cheap cheese at the touch of his lips. The way he moved his mouth against mine felt as though he were suctioning the tiny lines and shadows away. I could feel his body talking to me and it was saying something very simple. Raw emotions, primitive sensations, primal instinct, animal pleasure. Who would have ever thought that a nerdy undead scientist could gain so much from such a gorgeous man? And there is no need to veil your shock people. I am as stunned as you are.

Oriya parted from my lips without his two weeks notice, issuing a sound of protest from me. His response was to smile a little wickedly. He was having his fun with me, just as he had with Hisoka during their dual three months ago. Only now he was using my own body against me as a weapon, rather than a sword. As though proving this, he wet my appetite for more by tracing his tongue around the shape of my mouth and then darted it back within the safety confines of his teeth as I tried to catch it between my lips. He raised himself onto his knees, hissing a little from the tender wound but still managing to lower me gently to the floor as though I weighed little more than an infant. He set me down upon the cushions, which Akemi and I had previously placed beneath him and ran his hand across the crown of my head, moving down to spread my hair about my shoulders. I gazed up at him adoringly through my now somewhat foggy glasses, fingers quivering as I reached up and buried them into the folds of his yukata, creating strained creases within the material. The V shaped cross over hung loose, revealing a substantial portion of his chest for my viewing pleasure. I was astounded to find that my body was shaking beneath his gaze. I was as jittery as I had been…

My mind clamped down on itself, effectively slamming the door shut and locking it on that secluded apartment of memories in the farthest complex of my mind. _No, don't go back there,_ it warned. I had locked that place up years ago and never purposefully intended to go peeking back through the peephole at it. And so I listened to that little voice, resting my hand on Oriya's slender neck, registering his pulse and the irregular thimble shape of his jugular. Oriya was pleased to indulge my distraction and positioned himself gently between my legs, spacing my thighs out on either side of his trim waist. I gasped more loudly than I had intended to, when I felt that distinctive bulge of desire grind against my own. My hands splayed across his chest helplessly as control wriggled out of grasp. Oriya leant down to capture my mouth again, tugging on my lips gently for a moment before sending that kiss on a short stroll across my cheeks, chin and eventually onto my neck. I felt a little uncomfortable having his mouth there but when he started to nibble at the skin so softly and sweetly, I forgot all about my prior concerns, as pleasure became a much more conducive sensation to focus on. Oriya purred against my heaving Adam's apple and when his voice reached my ears it was ragged but gruff around the edges as always. He sometimes sounded like a cantankerous old man with that voice, sexy as it was.

"It's somewhat strange," he said, "To feel your heart beating so fast against my chest, when it should not beat at all. To slip my breath between your lips and to feel you pass it back between my own with every kiss. Quite the indulgence you are Yutaka. With you I am able to laugh, sigh, shake my head, roll my eyes and still feel as though I want nothing more than to pull you down and make every bare inch of you my own."

I felt a bolt of pure electricity shoot through my body as his fingers quickly and deftly unbuttoned the black vest I was wearing overtop of my work shirt and shuck it from me as casually as one might shell an ear of corn. It landed beside us on the floor and Oriya cupped my chin in his free hand, running it over my skin.

"You are quite unlike anyone whom I have ever felt myself attracted to," Oriya said, which earned a silent mental snark from me. Looking at his beauty one might assume that he previously dated supermodels. He must have been pretty desperate to let me get a hold of him that was for sure. "Kind, amusing, intelligent… and in possession of a beauty quite unique to a man."

I blushed. "Oh, come now. I wouldn't say that I'm all that good-lookin'."

Oriya smiled conspiratorially, running his fingers across the curve of my chin. "You see…? That is why I adore you so. You are completely oblivious as to where your beauty stems from, even when everyone around you can see it so easily. A smile, an opportunity to smile and the ability to hold and comfort a man of whom you cared for without reason. No matter how you see yourself Yutaka, you should know that any fool wiser than I, could only see that you are beautiful."

A breathless moment was swallowed by his kiss once more and I found myself rising and falling amongst the waves of my emotions. I was struck by the obvious peculiarity of my situation, at that, of all times. It was remarkable that I had been able to judge this man so astutely from a second's naked glance. I lifted one hand to clasp a hold of his shoulder, only to meet resistance halfway through the transition. Oriya's fingers knitted through my own, pressing my hand back down against the floorboards. My fingers twitched for a moment like dying butterfly beneath a pin and then gradually relented and coalesced with his. Two hands joined as one, that one pressed into the space beside our heads.

A raised hand as many interesting connotations. It is a sign of greeting and by extension, welcome, acceptance, admittance, and recognition. In the same gesture it can signal a farewell. So long, goodbye, to see off, to send of, to wish well, to release, to free, and to admit departure. The raised hand also however signifies refusal in that very same position, only it would thrust forward with the intention of denying. Stop, stay away, leave me alone, don't come any closer, no admittance, uncertainty, hesitation, refusal, exile, fear…

I had raised my hands in this gesture with all its many meanings more than once during my existence. Hands are wonderful things, are they not? The loss of my own would be truly devastating to me, for without them I would be unable to do any of the things I loved. Hands are the unrecognized representation of body and soul after all. Oriya's hand pressed to my own, palm-to-palm, fingers linked, said that all too clearly. What our hands told me was that we two creatures had opened ourselves up to one another, uncurled from our tight fist of cautious hesitation in order to come together and connect. To wrap our bodies up tightly within the securely bound vortex of our emotions. It was so beautiful and personal. I wanted that moment to last forever. One kiss and two hands, in exchange for an eternity of possibility.

The kiss went on and on, until Oriya finally decided on a rhythm for his tongue and settled into it with ease, spurring my own into following his example with patient fortitude. His pace was slow but certainly lacked no depth. His precise massages with that tongue of his could have worked the knots out of my shoulder blades if I had put it to work there. I followed his lead, eager to master the responses he so desired from me, tentatively curling my leg up to wrap around his waist, allowing the slender length bellow the knee to rest across his rather firm buttocks. He shifted only slightly at this alteration and deepened the kiss to a degree that I never imagined possible, lessening the pressure faintly in order to nudge against my upper lip and nuzzle at the corner in mock innocence. I cranked open one eye to half-mast only to find him staring directly back at me. His fingers brushed across the tresses of my hair that ran across the floorboards, gently tugging at the ends and tracing them along until his fingernails stroked the rise of my cheeks. Both my eyes were now open, though on the perpetual edge of fluttering shut.

"Look at you… you've gone bright red…" He said softly, spiking his voice with just a drop of amusement, perhaps unintentionally. Perhaps to get me intoxicated, of which is unsure but these moments are always so difficult indeed to verify. That uncertainty is what makes it so exciting. Oriya chuckled, pressing his lips to mine and speaking through the tiny space he had allowed, barely room enough for a needle to pass through. "How… cute…"

The space vanished and we were one again, a butterfly with both wings lifted behind its' back, preparing to take flight and never really getting around to doing so. Seconds drifted lazily into heated pollen scented minutes as we lay there, tangled somewhere between hello and farewell, denial and acceptance, acquiring a taste for one another as a butterfly nimbly flutters down upon its' chosen flower. A taste, of which I was certain, could only lead to some terrible addiction that I would as always be more than willing to sate.

Another cigarette to a smoker. Another drink to an alcoholic.

Feed that craving. Quench that thirst. Soothe that yearning for more until whence you have need of it again. Oriya's kisses to me were as deep as the puncture of a needle, the proboscis of the butterfly collection I pinned upon myself, to feed the pollen I craved within my veins. But butterflies are more innocent than that, aren't they? After all, they feed with their feet.

I wish I could have been a butterfly. If I ever had been one, my body had been pinned to the wall a long time ago. My wings spread outward on display, to be forever marveled, but to never fly, which made the beauty worthless in the end. To be admired without cause for that admiration, renders such compliments invalid.

These thoughts came later of course. In that very moment, my brain had stopped considering such philosophical baloney as it was quite occupied with the stimulation racing through my reanimated body. The pleasure that was sincerely my own and I was happier and far more nervous than I had been in a long time.

"Oriya…"

Oriya made no sign that he had heard my call. He was far too busy tugging my work shirt out of the waistband of my pants. I whimpered softly, tracing my fingers congenially through his hair, softened by the recent brushing. Oriya looked down at me and saw my expression, which must have indeed been a sight. He frowned, without meaning to I guess and released my pinned hand, which immediately leapt up and clung to his shoulder as though it were the only thing binding it to reality. With his own hand now free, Oriya pinched my trembling bottom lip between his index finger and thumb, fishing both inside of my mouth for a mere second. His face came close to mine, so very close… our noses touched and he kissed the rounded tip before meeting my eyes with the deep orbs that comprised his own. He was so close I could actually see my reflection in the pupil and I was stunned to find how anxious my expression was. Granted Oriya could most likely see his own face in my glasses too. I'm surprised he hadn't cracked up yet.

"Yutaka… do you believe I would treat you hurtfully?" He asked, intending for it to be rhetorical I imagine. And a distracting rhetorical at that because the sly bastard was continuing to un-tuck my shirt even as he spoke. "Please don't come to fear the touch of my hand. There is no way that these hands could ever hurt such a pure creature."

My eyes were threatening to tear up. Oh God, Oriya… if only you knew… if only you knew what a load of shit that was! How sweet of you! Incorrect but… sweet… There was nothing pure about me and just by touching my body you contaminated yourself beyond the point that you could ever be clean again.

"I won't break you… I swear it…" He was whispering, his voice a shadows faint glimmer of controlled lust, as he freed my shirt. I shut my eyes, glasses falling crooked on my nose as I tipped my head back, wheezing as his fingers ghosted up across my stomach, the middle digit dipping into my navel and tracing the indent tenderly. My entire body tensed as his hand moved up further, dragging the shirt with it so my skin was exposed to both his eyes and the cool air of the sitting area. I shivered visibly, hoping that he liked what he saw. My body had always been a debatable topic amongst those I had been with. I felt his breath on my stomach, hot and intentional. His hand was now far up my chest, caressing the indent beneath my pectorals.

"You're actually… quite well defined…" Oriya panted, after a moment's assessment. My eyes popped open from behind my crooked glasses. "More so than I… was expecting…"

"Used to… swim a lot…" Was the best explanation I could offer him at that point. His free hand was now running down my thigh and his lips upon my abdomen, trailing kisses across the slight rise of my stomach and then up over the subtle muscle structure. I tilted my head back, leaning the crown against the floor. Dear Lord it had been so long since anyone had ever done this to me. I had been fucked only the night before but I could barely recall the last time anyone had ever treated my body as though it were a sacrificial object to be made love to. I was pleased to find that my memory of what had happened to me the previous night with the stranger, did not soil my thoughts of being with Oriya at all.

My breath caught in my throat as Oriya slid up my body, pushing the shirt into bunches around my neck. Most of my upper body was now exposed to him and he did not waste an inch of it. I was panting in an effort to stay on top of the sporadic waves of passion that were soaking me but found myself sinking beneath the surface, deeper and further in every second that passed. Oriya slid two of his fingers up through the slight film of sweat that had accumulated on my chest and anchored them firmly around my left nipple. My back arched completely off of the pillows, a loud moan thrusting from the depths of my body as he plucked that pert bud and gently circled it with his nail. He was so temperate, yet so attune to what it was that I desired.

His clothes were a nuisance. The clothes that separated our skin, was a nuisance. As his mouth worked its' way up my chest toward the place where his fingers drummed at my nipple, I fished my hand underneath his yukata, gently tracing the tips of my fingers down his side. The material veiled his beautiful skin from me but at least I could touch him.

"Oh Yutaka…" He breathed, as his hands moved in a mirrored contradiction across my body. His thumb continuously strummed my nipple, whilst the other hand streaked down from my waist and slid slowly down across my inside thigh. Oriya smiled as my voice fluttered from the surface to the very depths. He stroked the skin of my thigh firmly but tenderly. Then it ever so slowly crept back upwards towards my waist. I opened my eyes and placed my hands on either side of Oriya's face, raising my lips to softly brush against his own. He smiled at me before closing his eyes and deepening the kiss. Then his hand was on the back of my head, his mouth pressed to the patch of flesh a centimeter below the nipple that he had previously been touching. A shiver whipped up through my body, a twist of exciting pain bunching a knot deep down in my stomach. My groin was starting to feel painfully tight and I attempted to loosen some of the constriction by rolling my hips against his; slowly at first and then, when he responded, a little harder. The feeling of that hard bulge against mine was so erotic I thought that it would drive me mad.

The sound of a zipper coming undone caught my attention before I realized, with a jolt, that he was unbuckling my pants.

"Oriya!" I yelped, my voice pitching dramatically as he unhooked the button on my trousers and separated the two halves. I wanted to focus my attention on what he was going to do there but by the time he had his fingers hooked inside of the trouser band, his tongue was lapping at my nipple, tearing my attention in two separate directions. By this point I was groaning euphorically, my feet sliding across the floorboards, my fingernails digging deeply into his side. Oriya slid one hand underneath my ass, raising it just enough to draw my pants down slightly off of my hips, exposing the hem of my boxer shorts. My entire body froze, breath and blood, leaving only the heartbeats to carry on uninterrupted in their passionate rhythm, as Oriya's hand slid sinuously down into the confines of my pants, coming into contact with my aching, constricted desire. I thrust against that presence, finding no relief and near to biting through my lip if I did not receive it soon. But Oriya was only making me more comfortable. Grasping my hips, he tugged my pants down another quarter inch, taking the pressure of my trousers crotch off of my swollen cock. His hand firmly bunched around my hard penis, squeezing it momentarily through my boxers and then lifting it away from the compression of my pants. By this point I was heaving and more than a little desperate. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging unintentionally when his hands began tracing my chest all over, following the subtle lines of what muscle structure I had and the crevices formed by my ribcage. I tilted my head back, pulling my body taught like a violin string, hooking my legs around Oriya's waist and reeling his pelvis in hard against my own. He just smiled at me a little knowingly.

I begged that expression. "Oriya… _please…_ What do you… want me to do…?"

Oriya fixed his hands beneath my knees and lifted my legs away from his waist, setting them on the right side of his body. With a toss of his head that lifted his dark wave of hair in a whiplash of motion across his shoulders, Oriya positioned his hand on my hip and sensuously lowered his body against mine, so that he was more or less spooning me from behind. He moved with the grace and experience any one of his geisha's undoubtedly possessed. I watched him over my shoulder, enamored.

"Just… shift your body a little…" Oriya urged, positioning my waist so I rested comfortably on my side. "There… that's it…"

His lips came to rest on the sensitive shell of my ear as ever so slowly he moved our bodies into alignment. I counted off the seconds in my head, until the exact moment I felt that ever-expanding bulge come into contact with my buttocks. A surge of pure heat burst through me and before I got a handle of myself, I thrust back against him. Oriya made a small exclamation of surprise but managed to get a handle on himself very quickly. He thrust back, rolling his hips generously against the lower arch of my ass, nibbling and sucking on the shell of my ear as we rocked together, panting and moaning. My balls were pounding from between my thighs and I spread my legs, angling my body so Oriya's semi-erect penis punched against the aching sacks, each burst of pleasure threatening to send me catapulting over the edge. My eyes were shut and I panted without shame as I reached around, bracing a hand on his hip and rocking back against him in earnest mimicry of that familiar sacred yet condemned ritual. His arms came about my body and started to pop open the buttons on my shirt. And as soon as the passion was there it was pulled from beneath us like a stained tablecloth. The air in the room felt suddenly heavy, as though a past spirit had entered through the wall and was hovering above us now, sucking my strength. My eyes were bulging behind my glasses, my hips grinding to a halt in their lugubrious movements.

"Oriya… please _don't_." I warned him, moving his hands away from the buttons and setting them on the indent below my ribcage. "Just leave it on. Please…"

His lips twisted into a smile against my skin as he ducked downwards to place a kiss into the side of my neck. His pelvis was rolling enticingly against my buttocks, one long bare uninjured leg sneaking out of the yukata folds to wind about my waist.

"You're going to tease me by hiding that flesh?" He asked me softly. I completely froze, body struck into premature rictor mortis.

Those had been _his _words.

"Your clothes are a nuisance. Why do you try to cover yourself from neck to wrist like that? It only teases me Yutaka."

My body had started to shake, if only to match the quaking uncertainty of my mind. Oriya, unaware of my turmoil, continued to kiss my neck as though he had noticed nothing. Then his fingers came across some of my scars.

"These marks…" _No… please don't touch them! _"These marks behind your hips… in your lower back…" _Oriya don't! _"Something's strange about them…"

"Oriya, kiss me." I begged, hoping it would be enough to distract him from the time-weathered wounds that had existed since before I had been reborn as a guardian. I spun in Oriya's arms and pecked the corner of his lips, arms wrapped around his body. But he paid me no mind. Rather he repositioned himself between my thighs and set his hands on the scars, which were situated in my lower back, above my buttocks.

"These scars…" He whispered, his voice containing a hint of dread. My eyes were squeezed shut a strange whining noise was erupting out of me as I collapsed back against the cushions in the identical pose I had been forced into when those scars had been placed upon me. " … my god… These scars were left by…" He traced the four long drag marks that run from my lower back, around my waist and ended on either side of my pelvis. "… fingernails…"

"Oriya!" My voice was now more than desperate. I struggled to get away from his touch, the touch that I had desired so much only moments earlier and now, which I couldn't bear to have upon me. But Oriya only held on, his fingernails dragging along those exact same scars to where they began. Then he pulled me back, slamming my pelvis against his. I cried out as his nails raked identical marks along top of the already hated scars. "What I just did… someone did it to you before! And left you scarred… Yutaka… who did this to you?"

I couldn't stand it anymore. I completely snapped. The stress of the past two days came crashing down on me and poor Oriya became the undeserving recipient of my misdirected rage.

"LET GO OF ME!" I roared, shoving my hands hard into his chest, trying to throw him off. "That's none of your business! Get off me! Let me go!"

"Yutaka…" Oriya said, eyes wide as I struggled out of his arms, pulling my clothes back into place with rash uncoordinated movements. "Yutaka what's wrong…?"

I clambered shakily to my feet, pushing away Oriya's arm as he reached out to steady me. I faced the wall, mentally forcing myself to calm down, as poor Oriya stood behind me, clueless as to what my strange behavior indicated. I immediately felt awful for yelling at him but I just couldn't… have him _realize _that about me. It made me look so filthy and weak. I didn't want him seeing me like that.

"Yutaka…" He called out to me hesitantly and I adhered to his voice with the distribution of a trembling sigh. I attempted to sound composed but my voice gave me away immediately. It possessed all the strength of a piece of paper, so easily bent backward in the torrent of emotions flooding from my heart so overwhelmingly powerful that I felt as though I could simply burst at any moment. My body was still deeply entrenched within the throes of physical passion but I wouldn't permit myself to ruin what I wanted so desperately from Oriya. Therefore, I kept my distance and my eyes focused firmly on the wall before me. The paper was stained in places. White in others. I found that delightfully symbolic.

"It's no big deal Oriya."

"Well it must be a big deal for you to react this way." He reasoned, walking up behind me and gently stroking my upper arms. I crooned at that one minimal touch. "I thought we were having fun…" He turned me around and lifted my chin, leaning down to kiss me. I wanted to continue on as though nothing had happened, to leap upward, throw my arms around his neck and kiss him until we melted together and became one indistinguishable mass that could never be separated nor independently identified. But I instead did nothing. Only lowered my face toward the floor and he understood right away that I could not accept his kiss at that point. His expression was more understanding than I deserved. I didn't even understand my own feelings at that point. All I could sense was fear. Inexplicable fear.

Stupid fear. I could have been naked by that point.

I ignored the little voice berating me and faked a smile. "It's been a big day…" I established, hating how lame the words sounded. "I might just hit the sack. We can take a rain check, eh?" I tried to leave, not really wanting to but Oriya grabbed me roughly by the wrist determinedly preventing my departure. I gasped in shock at how hard his grip was, remembering his momentary flux in control within the kitchen earlier. My fear rose several palpable levels when I saw the angry red welts already appearing around the area hidden beneath his taut fingers.

"Yutaka, wait-" He pleaded. I responded by snapping my arm free and turning on him, my expression livid and patience thinned to an indescribable vapor.

"Don't touch me like that!" I warned, positive that I sounded somewhat crazed. "Don't you _ever _touch me that way!"

Oriya stared at me for a long time, clearly confused by my anger. His expression slowly melted like candle wax in a hot flame, no longer stunned but sincerely hurt. This made me feel ever worse than if he had retaliated with a similar outburst to my own. It was more difficult now to blur the indistinguishable lines between Oriya and the one whom had spoken those exact words when before I had hidden my skin. The dark haired swordsman placed a hand on the visible portion of his chest, the side of his yukata falling astray in order to make room for the intruding fingers. I tried to maintain my temporary abstinence but it was not made easier by this minor, unintentional exhibitionism.

"I… I apologize but…" His voice was so solemn. So sincere. Oh, I'd made such a rotten mess of things, hadn't I? How could I possibly have made the slightest comparison between Oriya and that… _thing_? I couldn't even serve my emotions faithfully and remain angry at one, whilst the others grave I could have spat upon. "It… it would probably do you good to talk about it."

If talking did any good, I would have erased all my problems a long time ago. Still, I didn't say this, fearing the undertone of melancholy that I would regret having ever let him hear when I was in the right frame of mind. Instead, I occupied myself by pulling my sleeves down to my wrists, snapping up the collar of my shirt to hide as much of my neck as possible. Now, only my hands and face were uncovered, and as usual in the veiling of my body, the flesh that brought out such evil in good people, I felt my composure return. Oriya's expression twitched noticeably as I flashed a stunning smile at him.

"Talk about what? It's no big deal, handsome! Everyone has one or two scars they aren't proud of, eh? It's what makes the world such a bright and diverse place!" I made a V sign with my fingers to accompany and add weight to my smile. I hoped Oriya would buy it. I _needed _for him to buy it; for the sake of my mental stability I _needed _for him to bypass this one hiccup.

But Oriya wasn't interested in preserving my mindset. He wasn't an idiot and his morals clearly insisted that he broach my emotional space. My fingers dropped like a shy girls gaze as Oriya stepped forward, put his hands on my upper arms and knelt down to kiss the side of my face. I felt my cheeks go red as his lips rested there, his eyes on mine. I could see him through the corner of my sight and the previous sexual enticement had been replaced with a seed of sympathy, one that had already taken root. My body started to tremble within his grasp and no matter what effort I took to regain control, it continued to act against my will. There was nothing to fear from him but his emotional probes. There was no malice in his hands. He had not lied; Oriya wouldn't treat me hurtfully and I couldn't understand why.

"I've been working here a long time," He told me, voice as soft and as gentle as those hands. "And I've seen that type of injury more than once but… never to the degree that it would scar so deeply…"

"Oriya," My bottom lip started to tremble. "That's enough-"

He ignored me and plowed on, his right hand cupping my cheek and sewing a few strands of my hair between his fingers.

"It happened when you were alive, didn't it? Guardian's of Death don't scar because their wounds heal completely, therefore it must have occurred before your death."

He was rationalizing it! Figuring it out! "Stop it, please!" I begged.

Again, he ignored me. Those hands wouldn't hurt me, but why couldn't he understand that it was his words that could do the most damage? "Does it haunt you until this day? Is that why you won't talk about it? Is _that_ what dragged you down into death? Yutaka… you still suffer from it, don't you? I can see it in your eyes right this second. No matter how eager you seemed at my touch, you can't forget that it was a similar touch what left those marks-"

I couldn't act frightened, it would only reinforce what he was saying. The best thing to do was to laugh it off. To show that such accusations had no weight with which to hold me down. Send them scattering, like dried leaves in the air. My chest hurt but I managed to laugh through that tight constriction, the tears suspended beyond the surface of my eyes withdrawing, so that there was only brightness.

"Oh Oriya, please! How dramatic!" I exclaimed, laughing gaily. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound, plucking these theories out of thin air?"

Oriya only nodded and I felt the sudden detestable urge to punch him. This man could not be fooled by my act, or made to feel embarrassed by his unproven accusations. There was no doubt in his mind that he was right. No doubt in my mind either.

"We don't know enough about one another's scars yet." He admitted, pressing his forehead against my temple. "But… I'll give you as much time as you need. I'm sorry if I encroached on something personal. Just as long as you understand why I am so concerned." At this he kissed my cheek again and then moved his mouth back in order to whisper in my ear. "I do like you. I want to know all about you. Even those things you don't want anyone to know, I want to help you shoulder that pain. You give me that and I'll give you everything I have."

He finally moved back a little and turned as though to leave. Just when I thought I was beyond those abject feelings, my emotions at his tender expression suddenly burst forth through my heart like razor blades and I grabbed him, sinking my mouth against his, my fingers buried deep in his long soft hair. It took Oriya exactly three seconds to react and he put his arms around me, adhering to my despair but not turning from it as though my touch were repulsive. I wasn't beyond feeling emotion. Maybe that makes me a lousy doctor in some people's eyes. But a strangers approval was not what I needed right then. All I needed at that point was for Oriya to understand my gratitude and how deeply it had touched me. How much it meant to have him care for me.

"Thankyou," I told him when we had parted. To say anymore would have been saying too much and though one word was far too little, I felt I had more than adequately expressed myself. He watched as I left, my hair spinning and drifting across his face as with one lingering smile, I disappeared into the darkness behind the door. 003 slipped through the gap before I closed it and took up his mandatory perch on my shoulder, cooing softly at me. I rested my cheek against him, allowing him to brush his face across my skin. It was a small slice of comfort and I accepted it gratefully.

**003: **(Just when it was getting good too… It's okay to do that sort of thing if you're both consenting adults, you know? Last time was different… you can't let that rule you forever.)

"I wish I could say 'I know.'" I murmured, bracing my hand against the lower half of my face. "I want it so much to be so."

Ghosts of the past ascended from Hell to peck on me, to shred my skin of the sins I had invoked from others. I thought I had escaped from that place so long ago, that place of the other eternal Hades, segregated to tormented souls and the invokers of sin. All blood on the hands of the sinners was born through those that impregnated those deep-rooted desires. Kokakuro truly was Hades on earth and all around me, somewhere out in the shadows; the eyes of ghosts were watching me. I thought that if I listened hard enough, I could hear their thoughts

Yes, I was foolish. Yes, I wasn't acting normally. I was nothing like the Watari that everyone knew from the Judgment Bureau; the happy energetic one, who tricked Tsuzuki into testing his potions and handed out smiles free to anyone who passed his desk.

No… I wasn't behaving like myself and I hated that. I didn't want to be acting like some unstable idiot whose past prevented him from getting laid in the present. I had allowed Oriya's concern for me to morph into the hatred I had only ever felt for one person; a person who would not have spoken so tenderly to me in light of my bizarre behavior.

But… how could anyone have expected me to keep smiling in that place? Only Mr. Konoe had understood and he had tried to give me an out, so I wouldn't have suffered like I did that night. However, I had fooled myself into thinking I was strong enough to take this case. I had thought of Oriya and my crush and decided that this case was _mine._

How did I even think that I could have survived that investigation?

How… when my blood already stained the walls of this place?

Seki… 

_**- EC –**_

**Oriya: **Ooh my, how ambiguous… (Claps hands together) Now, how about we go celebrate chapter 12's completion with a couple of drinks? I'll buy.

**Watari: **Yeah! And then we can watch Sukisyo! Or maybe the Muraki AMV!

**Muraki: **Hem… how about no? I vote for Ai no Kusabi.

**Tsuzuki: **(Blushes) How about something nice and non-explicit? Like Trigun! That's funny!

**Oriya: **Only because Vash reminds you of yourself. I vote Tsukihime.

(All exit room chatting about what to watch. Scene fades out)

**A/N: **Next chapter should be along shortly! Please review and I'll get to it faster! (Ignores shrieks of 'Blackmail!') Hey! I told you how this works, didn't I? Thankyou in advance everyone and I hope all my readers have enjoyed the update!


	15. Cutthroat Eurynomous: Part 1

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Descendants of Darkness or any of its affiliating characters and I'm not making a drop of money from writing fanfiction about it. Kinda wish I was… considering that amount of words that have gone into this fanfic, I'd be swimming in it by now!

**Note:** Tally-ho everyone! (Waves) Welcome to chapter 14 of Dark Adaptation: Cutthroat Eurynomous! There's a lot to get through this chapter, so everyone bear with me please! Due to the length of the last update, this one was only intended to focus on Watari and Oriya again, since I didn't catch up with my story plan last chappie. However, as I am sure everyone is itching to get themselves some more MuTsu action, I decided to include all the characters in this chapter, which means lots of jumping back and forth in perspective! However, since this chapter is so big, it has been cut into **4 **parts, which are going to be updated very closely behind one another. I don't want to make my readers wait any longer so I have chosen to do it this way. You'll hear from everyone's POV in chapter 14 except Muraki's, but that's okay, since he'll be with Tsuzuki. (Holds finger to lips) That's all I'm saying. But please try and read as much as you can folks, no matter how tedious it is. There are very important plot points in this chapter and I don't want anyone to be confused later! (A likely occurrence in my fanfiction!) Anyway, enjoy! Watari's POV is up first but we'll be switching to Tsuzuki soon.

**Watari**

I'll pick up our story, a week from the day that I had arrived at Kokakuro. One long, tiresome, sadly passionless week. I hadn't made much progress in either my situation with Oriya, or with the case itself, both of which may have put another Guardian in an irritable mood. But hey, I was Yutaka Watari! I ALWAYS bounced back!

Well… nearly always. The reason I'm skipping ahead in the story now is because I have no idea how long we're intended to remain in this bloody helicopter for and partly because nothing considerably worthwhile occurred following that very first night when… well, you've already heard what happened that first night. Moving right along.

It was Wednesday night, following dinner. The case wasn't progressing nearly as quickly as I would have hoped. Not only did the samples I had collected a week prior, fail to match any records kept on the Ministry's database but I seemed to have, much to my chagrin, misplaced all the semen samples I was certain I had accumulated from the deceased bodies, not to mention two of the bags containing skin samples. In my embarrassment, I determined that I would not alert Gushoshin to this fact and whenever he brought it up, simply responded with my pre-readied excuse; that I did not want the samples analyzed until I had taken samples from Oriya, so that a negative calibration would have ruled him out as a potential suspect. Which had a mark of truth to it. The knives I had taken from Kokakuro's kitchen also tested negative for traces of blood, so I'd had no luck locating the murder weapon. All in all, it had been a positively shit week, workwise.

Not that my private life had been faring much better. Oriya's attitude the past seven days had been unreceptive to say the least. Whilst I was thrilled in his presence and equally as happy in the company of the five geisha's still working at Kokakuro, I couldn't help but feel out of sorts from time to time. Oriya was as polite to me as I would have expected from any good host. But that was just it. It was the sort of gentlemanly demeanor you could find at just about any upper class establishment. He spoke only to me of the case specifics and employed impersonal banter whenever we all met for meals. There was not another mention of what had happened my first night there, when we had come so close to coalescing as something more than just individual strangers, wound tightly into a despairing situation that neither wanted to cope with. I couldn't say that he was cold to me in the aftermath of my dissuading the progression of our heated session in the sitting room. Rather he was as austere and dignified as always. But it was as though he had purposefully forgotten what had happened and had effectually cast aside the prospective chances that we had of becoming something more. Something serious… like I had been hoping.

My heart hurt sometimes at that… I really liked him. I really wanted to be with him but… there were a lot of issues I needed to overcome before I could commit to him at the level I desired. That perhaps even he desired.

Then there were those times when I sat down and went over my situation with frank though not altogether positive sincerity. Considering who Oriya was, his unrivalled beauty, his wealth and honor, his prestige and kindness… Hell, I'll just say it: Considering how _perfect _the man was, should it have come as any surprise to me that I was being given the brush off? Why did I think that I had any right to hold onto him? Maybe all he wanted from me was a quick and easy fuck. For God's sake, I had spread my legs to far less prettier things than he, so where was the dishonor in taking pleasure from a creature with my lack of integrity?

But Oriya knew not of that. And I didn't believe it in his nature.

Still… there was the reality. We had not been intimate since that night. Not even close. Except… except after the conclusion of one meal, when he had been passing me to step out into the garden for what I came to realize was his ritualistic smoke of the evening. I had been helping Koneko collect the dishes when Oriya had stopped next to me. He remained that way for some time, not saying or doing anything. I straightened up, mouth parted to question his cease in motor functions when his hand cupped the back of my head and he closed his eyes, resting his chin against the part of my hair for a transient, but highly breathtaking moment. Before I could say anything he was gone, so fast I already saw the curl of smoke from his pipe winding patterns through the warm night air. The weather had started to improve in Kyoto. Spring was drawing to a close and summer was on its way. It was the time of year when flirtations ended and commitments settled.

I took this as a good sign.

That had been some days ago now though. But I had grasped onto that one insatiable touch with everything I had. Though my luck with both Oriya and the Geisha Charm case was stagnant at best, I was fortunate in that my relationship with Oriya's girls had proceeded unhindered. They were all very fond of me and I of them. I was also on rich terms with the cook Yoshi and Oriya's housekeeper Mrs. Koneko. However, the most profound emotional relationship I had established, besides Oriya of course, was indubitably with Akemi Aisubi. I learnt, through my regular interactions with her, that she did not actually dwell in Kokakuro but lived nearby with her current partner and three young children. She had brought them to Kokakuro one day whilst she was studying and I took a few hours off of work to help them explore the garden. Oriya had watched us the whole time and even joined in on our expedition to see how far the yard itself extended. Quite a ways in, we discovered that the four sides of the Kokakuro limited it, as though the garden itself were the contents of an elaborate box. Oriya was clearly a very wealthy man. And on top of that, he was wonderful with kids. I liked to think that I was too but Oriya barely went to any effort to gain their approval. They would hang off of him like spider monkeys and he would lift them up so that they could climb the cherry blossom trees littered around the yard. It came to my attention at that point that the plants within Kokakuro never seemed to shed their leaves or fade in vibrancy. Almost as though the garden was wedged between this dimension and another. Like the Ministry of Hades, where the Sakura bloomed all year round… Regardless of these thoughts, I had a wonderful afternoon being with Akemi's children and Oriya. The rest of my time was spent working on the case like a demon, or playing my part as secretary slash waiter within Kokakuro. Akemi seemed to think I had the act down pat, though I did notice a slight smile on her face when I nearly tripped over whilst carrying a tray of _mizutaki_ out into the restaurant. Considering how clumsy I looked, I believe a slight smile was immaculately polite of her. I deserved a Hell of a lot more for the windmilling effect my legs managed to produce.

Taking into account the amount of work that I had been doing, my leash on Ichibana had loosened considerably and I had taken to letting him out of my glasses often for days on end. Fortunately, the last fourteen years in my service seemed to have mellowed him and he was nominally well behaved. Discounting the instances where he was attempting to charm Oriya and his girls out of their yukata's. But that _was _relatively composed knowing what else he was capable of. Often he would join us for dinner, where he would quench what was lacking in his preferred diet by scoffing down as much food as possible. My, it was an awesome show of gluttony. He was forced to hide his pointy ears however, lest the girls pick up that something about him was not quite human. They were willing to accept my cover story; that he was merely a colleague of sorts. (Akemi guessed that he was another detective and Ichibana was quite pleased to live up to this. However, the other girls had not but a clue as to what he could have been a colleague in, and were left guessing.) A day ago, I had bound him back into my glasses so that he could rest his essence for a while. Because he had stolen the body of a demon, his immaterial form did not ache whilst he resided in this world. Much in the manner of how Saagatanusu could not be injured by passing into Hades whilst residing in Tsuzuki's body; only in Ichibana's case he had expelled the demon's spirit completely and then killed it before taking the body. … I'm not quite sure whose methods were less moral really.

I think that brings us just about up to speed. From what I gather, quite a bit happened on this particular night, so I'll kick off and when anyone has something to add feel free to butt in.

It was late in the evening and I had just brought Gushoshin's dinner up to the bedroom, where he was working diligently on the laptop. He looked up as I entered the room and slid the door shut behind me with my hip.

"Oi! Gushoshin!" I called, setting the tray down near the workstation. "Have you found any information regarding that demon Mitkiel yet? We'd best get crackin' before the shite really hits the fan!"

Gushoshin sighed grimly as he rested back on his hands, eyes shut against the harsh glare of the laptop. I don't think that the poor creature had taken a break since we'd arrived at the Kokakuro. Unlike me, who'd spent most of his time flirting with the master of the establishment. I had a sudden, though easily dismissible flush of guilt. The case was important true but so was maintaining my sanity. If I didn't distract myself from the despair of what had happened to the one that I loved, it would overwhelm my ability to function. This side occupation of kimono chasing was all that stood between me and the unsurpassable darkness of this grief that wanted nothing more than to snare me with both hands and drag me kicking and screaming back into the past, in which so much pain had been divested. No. It may have been selfish but I wanted to survive my sorrow and not succumb to it as so many around me had. By distracting myself with fantasies of mortal dalliances, if so be it.

It was all I could do.

"I ran a search for that name in the Ministry Demonic Registration records but Mitkiel didn't come up once. So I broadened the search, thinking that maybe it is a misspelling; silent letters that sort of thing but there's not much I can give you." The Gushoshin leant back towards the laptop, albeit reluctantly and ushered me over to view a file he had brought up. "I found information on the spelling that you gave me but it offered more than one definition. I'm not sure if the latter has any significance but it does sound as though the first is the one you are looking for." He twisted the laptop in my direction and I lowered my face to see. There were only a few sentences of information, so it didn't take long to read:

"1: - dfnt: Mitkiel, a demon of the 18th level of Hell. Commanded thirty legions. Demon of Punishment. Was killed in the Battle of Heaven by Archangel Michael."

And then, almost as an after thought:

"2: - dfnt: Mit-Kiel; elements of both light and darkness. Components of which comprise the Nigi-mi-tama and the Ara-mi-tama. Gifts from Heaven and Hell. A being that above all desires to deal out punishment to sinners. Represented by the figure of the Celestial Butterfly."

"I didn't even find this information in the Demonic Registration Records, Mr. Watari. It came up when I entered the name on the Ministry's General Intranet database!"

"Huh? Well that's strange…" I mused, tilting back my head and pressing the knuckle of my index finger against my chin, thoughtfully. Ichibana, who was apparently awake and bored by lack of activity, was trying to distract me by making pink and purple sparks of glitter flash off of the lens of my glasses. But I was too intrigued by the words on the computer screen to take much notice. I looked back down at Gushoshin, who was attempting to yawn in a discreet manner.

"This might even suggest that Mitkiel is not a demon at all! Especially if the original was killed in the Cosmic battle… This line here is interesting: '_Gifts from Heaven and Hell_.' I wonder what it could mean by that?"

"Should I look into it further?" Gushoshin suggested wearily, his fingers poised above the space of air beside the keyboard. He was too tired to realize just where his hands were positioned. Since I'm a nice guy, I decided to take it easy on him.

"No, that's enough for the day. Good work however. Is there anything else to report? Did the sigil bring up any matches? I haven't had any luck myself."

Gushoshin moved the mouse to a window at the base of the screen and clicked on it, to enlarge the project. The completed sigil appeared, all lines disproportional with each other.

"It didn't directly match any demon sigils and I have exhausted the database. Some parts matched to a few particular sigils but not as a complete unit."

I thought about the murders and the way the bodies had been positioned atop the rudimentary pentagram. Each body was placed on what would have appeared to be the four sides of the sigil, which from what I could see on the screen, were all different from one another. The fourth girl had survived but I had a strange feeling that she had most likely been in the top right hand corner; the one that had been vacant.

Four bodies… positioned on top of four corners of the pentagram.

"It is entirely possible that the girls bodies are representative of entirely separate sections of the sigil," I was thinking aloud, as I paced in circles around the low table where sat Gushoshin and the laptop. 003 opened one eye sleepily to give me an annoyed look. "In that sense, four parts in a whole are representative of quarters. The puzzle appears to be saying that there are four responsible. I cannot grasp the meaning of the words written on the back of Seki…" I had to pause in order to bring myself back under grips. When I continued I was admonished to hear my voice waver as insufficiently as washing swaying in a cold breeze. "- but the reason why the translation appeared so bizarre is because the sigil is not but one demon's signature, but components of _four _entirely separate sigils, all placed together like portions of a jigsaw puzzle. I guess what it means is that four demons are responsible."

Gushoshin balked, his expression stretched upward as though I had grabbed him by the top of his head, around the ankles and then literally stretched the explanation out of him.

"WHA! You mean, now I have to research _four _demons sigils? Ergh! That could take forever!"

"Like I said, don't bother doing it tonight. You've been working hard all day, you should take a break, have something to eat. You didn't even touch the food tray Oriya was kind enough to have prepared for you." At the reminder of food, Gushoshin immediately gravitated back over towards the dinner tray and picked up an oversized pair of chopsticks, eyes gleaming as he noticed the small bottle of shöchu that accompanied the meal. I went to shut off the laptop for him when the djinni piped up from my glasses.

_"Recognize that top right hand quarter of the sigil, boss. That there be the signature of the Daemon of Delusion; Balban."_

"You sure about that?" I asked skeptically.

"_Hey… know you don't trust me all tha' much but I know Balban's sign when I see it. Guy has the messiest signature this side of Hell. Bad temper to top it off."_

"Yes, well thank you for the insight," I said as I shut down the computer and scribbled a note of what the djinni had said on a notepad close to the station. "I'll be sure to look into that tomorrow. Um, Gushoshin?" He glanced up, cheeks bulging from an overzealous gulp of shöchu. "I'm going out for a while tonight. I want to question a few people at that bar _Ra's Sunline_. It may just have been the last place the vic's were at. Make sure you take the rest of the night off, eh? You've worked hard enough for one day!"

Gushoshin was too preoccupied with his food to give a verbal commitment but he waved his drink glass in my direction, which was good enough for me.

"All righty then! Come on out Ichibana!" I announced with cheer, taking off my glasses and tossing them liberally into the air. "As they fell, I quickly uttered the Ejection spell and released the djinni, albeit temporarily from his bind. A flash of light erupted from the lens but Ichibana spared me the usual dramatics of his appearance (He wasn't trying to impress me, see?) and landed daintily on the floor in his favored guise; the cat demon of beauty. As my glasses fell, he dutifully caught them and handed them back to me.

"Thanks." I said, wiping them off before placing them back upon the bridge of my nose. It was then that I was able to get a good look of Ichibana; or more appropriately what he was wearing. Rather than his usual leather ensemble, the djinni was lavishly decked out in tight black hotpants, a top that was made out of mostly belts winding around his bare upper torso and knee high boots with laces up the front and a deadly looking heel. His hands were dolled up in black fingerless leather gloves that went right up to the elbow (matching the one's that I also happened to be wearing) and he seemed to be sparkling with Japan's entire supply of glitter dust. He grinned, showing off two perfect rows of teeth. Taking into account all the black makeup he had on, including lipstick, he resembled some overexcited _Rocky Horror_ fan.

"And just _where _do you think _you're _going?" I asked, hands on hips.

Ichibana looked sincerely astounded by my tone. "I'm goin' clubbin' with ya! Did ya really think I was gonna let ye have all the fun?"

I shook a finger at him. "Nope. Nada. Uh uh, _no way Hozay. _You ain't going to this club, mate."

The djinni looked wounded. His shoulders slumped a little. "Is it an identification problem? Because I haven't been mistaken for bein' younger than twenty-one yet. Or is there some rule against djinn enterin' into this bar? I swear, you humans can be so racist sometimes… I bet they even make djinn in buses stand up so ye earthlings can rest ye discriminatin' asses down-''

"Ichibana, the general human population isn't even aware of the existence of djinn, so there'd be no reason for them to discriminate against you." I explained, both hands raised to fend off the approaching political tirade he was preparing to level with me. "I'm not going out to enjoy myself partying. This is a fact finding mission, nothing more. I was meaning to get it done sooner but things have been so hectic around here…"

"Speakin' of hectic," The djinni said, brushing back his long bangs so that he could level his mischievous gaze upon me. "I notice things ain't progressin' too well 'tween you and that handsome Samurai belle. Watched ye both at breakfast the other mornin' and the only thing that passed between ya was the milk! If I'da known that sort of mess woulda been left behind when I sailed out that firs' night, I woulda chosen m'words more carefully!"

"It wasn't your fault Ichibana." I sighed, examining my reflection in the credenza mirror and consciously sucking my guts in. I was wearing tight navy-blue pants that lifted my bum and a black short sleeved turtleneck tee with the same fingerless elbow length gloves I had worn my first day there. My thong straps were showing; sitting on the rise of my hips, just above the trouser hem. "Oriya and I… well… I'm not sure what to say exactly." I offered the djinni a weak smile. "Things are rather topsy-turvy at the moment."

"Yer tellin' me. I thought the two of ye were on fire! Ye had some good chemistry." Ichibana mused, stepping up to my side and trying to straighten my spine and consecutively tuck in my belly for me. "And this is from a guy whose been gettin' laid for centuries before ye were even a corny pick up line in yer Papa's middle-school repertoire!"

I scowled and swatted his hands away from my stomach. "Well gee, aren't you full of good advice tonight?"

"Ay, at least I ain't bein' my normal charming attention grabbing, tantrum throwing, smart mouthed self, right?" The djinni answered with a shrug. "Ye gotta take what light ye can in a coal mine."

"What a pithy simile you employed there." I said, unable to hide a smirk. Ichibana started to look irked.

"Now _yer _the one bein' a smart ass! Well, whatever, are we gonna go or what? It could be a lot of fun! You and me, boozin', swingin', flirtin'– no wait, yer pretty much smitten with the Mibu guy, though he in turn seems to have forgotten yer existence, though I can't really blame the guy, what with all these pretty girls around…"

"Ichibana, you're floating!" I snapped, trying to pull him back down to the ground by one of his heels. "Can you imagine what one of those pretty girls would think if they walked in on you levitating about all over the room? Keep in check!"

Ichibana glanced down to see that he was indeed about five or so feet off of the floor and chuckled apologetically as he lowered back within acceptable proximity.

"Sorry, boss. But can ye blame me? When I think about all those lovely belles, I get all of a flutter!" His feet fluttered off of the floor again in support of this statement, his ears also twitching in agreement. "Ah, speakin' of which, that reminds me! Can't have these things stickin' out o' my head all night! Though they are a real conversation starter." He tapped one purple fingernail against his left ear and both shrank down to the rounded, human fashioned shell. The diamond shaped earrings that traced up the edge, jangled slightly at the transformation.

"Ichibana, as _delightful _as your irritating company would be this evening," I began, turning back to the mirror and soothing my hair out distinctly over each shoulder. "I don't wish to be distracted by anything. Go and do your own thing."

It was a direct order and I could see Ichibana's material form vaguely shudder at his immediate refusal. He shook off the slight jolt and started appealing to me in a somewhat more dignified manner then I had employed with Tatsumi and Mr. Konoe over taking the Geisha Charm case.

"But I've _been _to every other bar and club in this town! I waited 'specially for you to do yer questionin' thing so we can go ta this one together!"

"Well that's not my fault!" I established, trying desperately to concentrate on brushing my hair. Gushoshin was staring vaguely at Ichibana, the chopsticks poised in transition between the tray and his mouth. The food that had been pinched between that ends, had long since dropped back upon the plate.

"Aww… but Taka-kun…" The djinni whined, turning his eyes watery and doe like, whilst employing the use of my much loathed pet name that Tsuzuki often used when he wanted me to do something. I clonked my hair brush down firmly on the credenza and spun to face the persistent djinni, trying without much success, not to be swayed by the sad look on his inappropriately pretty face.

"Ichibana, you listen here-'' But what he was intended to listen to we shall never know, because it was at that moment my tirade was interrupted by a knock from the door. The djinni turned to the intrusion, waving his arm merrily at whomever was veiled in the darkness of the hallway.

"Come _in!_" He yelled, sing-songingly.

"Don't tell people to come into my room on your own, _it's my room!_" I established grumpily. But that was apparently invitation enough because the door slid open and Akemi entered. I was glad to see that formalities had been shelved in the past week and that she no longer bowed to me as greeting. She was dressed in casual clothes, three quarter length pants and a nice U shaped top that allowed subsequent peeks of her full cleavage. Ichibana dutifully appreciated this little bonus and I was ten times more grateful for the fact that Akemi hadn't bowed.

To give credit where credit's due, Akemi was far too mature and dignified to let my perverted imp sway her. She just gave him a polite nod (and his attire a faint smirk) before turning to me.

"Sweetheart, I'm heading home for the evening now." Because Akemi lived outside of Kokakuro, she was forced to drive back and forth everyday; exempting those select nights when it was required that she remain. "Beau asked me to pass along a message to you before I left."

"Why couldn't Oriya get off of his well defined, though somewhat portentous ass and pass it along himself?" Ichibana asked in an unimpressed voice as he focused with unrivalled enthusiasm on his nails. "He's only next door fer cryin' out loud."

Akemi, rather than take offense at Ichibana's cheeky manner, merely rolled her eyes as though agreeing with him.

"To be honest Mr. Kabana, I wonder that myself." She said and now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Ichibana had introduced himself to everyone as Mr. Ichinii Kabana and seemed to find it hilarious that everyone would address him by his last name with such composure. "If I am to be perfectly frank, I don't think he could be bothered getting out of bed. And… well, this is just my opinion but… maybe he was a little nervous about coming to ask you himself, Mr. Watari. Not that he would say anything mind."

"So, what does our employer want with me?" I asked, searching around for a comfortable pair of shoes as a means of hiding my anticipating expression. Akemi fussed with her handbag strap before attending to my question.

"He would like you to see him in his room. That is all he asked me to convey to you. He hopes you will meet with him. I trust he will explain himself fully, unless of course he would prefer to face my wrath."

I laughed, knowing full well that Oriya was well and truly henpecked by Akemi at the best of times, though he hid the reality of their relationship very well.

Ichibana's eyebrows shot up and he bounced over to my side, aiming an encouraging elbow into my lower ribs. I tried to pretend that the air hadn't been entirely knocked out of my lungs.

"Oh my… sounds like Mr. Impotent is finally gonna explain himself. _Hunna, hunna!_" He squealed, supplying so much virtual encouragement that I'm surprised he never slapped my behind with a wet towel. "Might wanna cancel yer plans fer tonight boss, cause I think yer carriage is bein' directed elsewhere! Down the highway of PASS_ION_!"

"Is sex all you think about?" I asked, rubbing my ribs and systematically wondering whether Oriya's bed was big enough for two. Ichibana just snorted and flicked my nose.

"Now, I know ye humans like ta entertain yer false misconceptions about _love _and all that shit but I'll tell ye now, it ain't a material notion, mate. Sex is _real _unlike that drippy, inconsequential baloney ye earthlings all maintain as an excuse not to look moralistically barren. I accepted that centuries ago. Sooner you humans get a handle on it, the better."

"Whatever. I'll still be heading to _Ra's Sunline _tonight, regardless of anything Oriya has to say," I stated, trying to convince myself more than anyone. I made my way over to Akemi and gave her a polite nod, smiling appreciatively. "Thanks for the message, Miss Akemi. You have a wonderful evening now."

"Oh, you, too." She said ambiguously, winking at me and then turning to wiggle her fingers in farewell to Ichibana. I was glad that Gushoshin had ducked under the workstation, though I think in light of the djinni's outfit it would have been difficult to take even a talking bird into account. "Good evening Mr. Kabana. Don't catch a cold now, you hear?"

"No Ma'am!" Ichibana called, winking at her in return. When Akemi had made her exit, the djinni floated on over to me and leant his face in close, crimson eyes shining even in the hallways darkness. "Hey, Taka. If ye don't want me at that bar, that's cool. I'll head out to this other place I found. They've got this really hot red-haired dancer guy over there, who I think might just be my type. He looks yummy! Anyway, ye know how ta reach me if ye need me."

"Just call your name. Got it." I established with a mock salute. Ichibana made a clucking noise with his tongue and poked me right in the center of the forehead, grinning widely.

"Good luck with ye old Samurai, ya? Gimme the details later! Ta ta!" And with that, his body suddenly dissolved into a mid-air spiral and disappeared completely.

Having wrapped up my business with my Underdweller servant, I proceeded onward the twelve or so steps to Oriya's room. The door was cracked open just an inch, allowing dim light to filter out into the inky blackness of the hallway. I took a moment to fix my hair and psyche myself up and then knocked twice, half believing that Oriya was asleep. It was late after all. Following the first knock however, I was surprised to hear his immediate admittance and I set my hand on the door frame, sliding it into the wall and stepping into the warm confines of Oriya's room.

It wasn't exactly as I had expected. I wasn't sure what I _would _have expected but from a Samurai, I suppose there was some preconceived threadbare notion that the room would be well maintained, somber and impersonal, with no emotional attachments to either material and non-material aspects; bare bone, simplicity itself. Oriya's room was none of these things.

Well, not to say that it wasn't well maintained. Everything had its rightful place and home. It was certainly neat but it was an accommodating accepting neatness, as though every new addition was welcomed and provided with an area in which it might happily amplify the nature of the room. There were pictures laminated on each of the four walls; pictures of Oriya's family, the girls at the Kokakuro, high school pictures. I recognized a younger Muraki and Oriya in one photograph on the far wall. Oriya had shorter hair and wore it in a high pony-tail on top of his head. He was a pin-up even then. Some people have all the luck.

The wall opposite his bed was entirely dedicated to Samurai swords. My knowledge in the area was rusty at best but from what I could tell, he had a mighty fine collection. Close to two-dozen swords in sheathes that were as lavishly decorated as Oriya's yukata's, rested on wooden supports. It was breathtaking simply standing there, regarding them with wide-eyed jubilance as I had. On the wall beside the large window, which matched the one in my own room, was a walk in wardrobe where I gathered Oriya stored his yukata's and other clothes alike. If I ever had the chance I would have loved to have gone through there and sorted through them all, just to touch and admire the patterns woven into his garments. The man had such good taste and he wasn't reserved when it came to color or style. He looked beautiful in those bright, aesthetic yukata's.

Strangely enough, it was the bed that my eyes took in last. Rather than a thin futon, which was somewhat customary in establishments such as this, Oriya's bed was Western style, though relatively low to the floor as though he had apologetically attempted to redeem himself for dissuading cultural expectations. It was Queen sized, with black sheets and maroon pillows. It looked like a warm and cozy bed. Better than the lumpy doona covered thing shoved into one corner of my apartment like an old sock. I spent most of my nights in the lab however, though the futon in there was hardly better.

Oriya was perched up in bed, dressed in a simple white bed kimono. He was reading what looked like a horror novel of all things but lowered it when I entered, placing his bookmark between the pages he'd been perusing and focusing on me with polite, tenacious interest. He waited patiently until I had finished perving on his room and then continued to wait for me to speak first.

"I thought you had a futon?"

Well… that was an icebreaker Yutaka. God, why did I have to be such a dork? Oriya was kind enough to ignore my sudden attack of stupidity and just smiled, giving the side of the bed an affectionate pat.

"I purchased this the other day. That kick I received last Wednesday inflamed my leg injuries; even with the treatment you gave me. My physician thought it would be best if I acquired a bed off of the floor with a thick mattress. Since my back has also become aggravated, he suggested I shouldn't sleep on hard surfaces for at least a couple of months."

I nodded, realizing that this made perfect sense and disregarding my hopeful theory that he had bought the bed because it would have been more comfortable to tousle in. I was eager to move the conversation along before he had any inkling of my thoughts and found the perfect escape hatch in the book he had been occupied with upon my entry.

"You know, considering that you have Muraki as a best friend, I'm surprised you feel the need to read something like that." I remarked, gesturing at the novel in his lap. Oriya smiled lightly and nodded, setting the book on the bedside table.

"I suppose that does seem strange. But I find that an intriguing thriller heightens my understanding of those factors I am unable to get my head around, not to mention it keeps my senses attune to everything around me. I often pick one up when I'm wakeful." His hands now free, he set them back atop the blankets, which were perched across his waist and he regarded me attentively, as though I were plainly the most interesting thing that he had ever seen. I fidgeted, feeling vaguely disconcerted with his attention focused so astutely on me.

"Akemi… I mean, em… _Miss _Akemi said you-you-you wanted t-… to see me about something?" I managed to choke out, knowing full well that I sounded like a complete moron. For a change.

Oriya nodded thoughtfully as though only just remembering what he had sent Akemi to do. He raised his hand and gestured at me.

"Indeed. Please step over to the bed. I'm resting my leg and I'd rather not stand."

Thinking nothing of this, I stepped over to the bed, trying not to let his proximity get the best of me. Every time I got near him and thought about what we had done that first night we'd met, my face became flushed and I got all sorts of nervous to such a degree that my high school self would have hidden his head in shame.

Oriya stared at me and made a sideways motion with his head. "Lean down." He commanded. And I did, kneeling at the waist and bringing myself even closer to him. So close that I could see the faint freckles dotted across his nose. I'd forgotten about those.

"Oriya, I-'' My words, whatever the were, became as much a mystery to me as they were to him. Because now that I was close enough, Oriya could kiss me. It happened almost like a dream, his fingers buried through the hair on the back of my head and he gently pushed my lips down onto his. It was such a loving and chaste action. My eyes shot open in shock then, slowly fluttered shut as I admitted the reality to myself. His free hand smoothed my cheek, brushing the loose waves of blond hair behind my ear as he nuzzled his lips sweetly around my own, not once encroaching with his tongue. I placed my fingers atop his as our mouths separated and I felt a smile form unconsciously.

"Oh…" That was all I managed to say. All that needed to be said in that situation. "Oh."

Oriya nodded and pushed the lens of my glasses down slightly in order to place a second kiss against my right eye, the hand on the back of my head making soothing motions across my scalp.

"I understand that I have been distant this past week." He murmured, as I brought one of my knee's up to lean on the bed. My back was starting to ache at being bent at such an angle. "It has been especially hard, since you seem to get more adorable with each day that passes. I was only… well… I meant only to give you some space after how upset you appeared when I came across those marks. I encroached upon something personal and I felt truly discourteous in my actions. I doubted whether you would be in any mind to forgive me for my impertinence so I thought to allow you time to breathe in which we could both sort our feelings through. Then of course, I realized that in my haste to back away, that I could very well have instigated the incorrigible reverse effect. You might have been wounded by my countenance and believed it to be you with whom the fault rested. I assure you now, that this is most certainly not the case. I apologize if I put you through pain because of this. I merely did it… out of respect. Do you understand?"

"Oh Oriya!" I blubbered, relinquishing my self control completely and wrapping my arms around him, smiling with relief as I felt him wrap me up tightly, long chocolate brown hair falling on either side of my head and trailing down my back like rich twin waterfalls. "For a while there I thought… well I guess I figured that you might have been… oh, who cares what I thought now! You're really not mad at me then?"

The Samurai smiled and drew back a little, running his fingers down the side of my face and sending unaccountable thrills throughout the rest of my body with this single, perfect touch.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous. You were never at fault for anything."

Oh Lordy… he really _was_ perfect. I smiled as he kissed my temple and ran his fingers down my back tenderly.

"If… if you are comfortable doing so… would you please sit with me for a while?"

I glanced up into his eyes, trying to determine whether or not there was a certifiable absence in sincerity. I could sense no mockery in his face. I could feel my own going hot however.

"Sit… with you?" I asked in a trembling voice.

He nodded, running his thumb over my cheek as though this would have somehow erased the blush. I wish it had. "Yes. Just sit here beside me and let me hold you. All week I've been wanting to. But I didn't want to impose myself on you if you weren't ready. Yutaka… I am willing to make something of this but that first night, I think you'll agree that we both got a little carried away. From here on in, shall we take it slow?"

I nodded, though his reference to that first passionate night of our meeting did nothing to dial down the heat of my cheeks.

"You don't have to sit with me if you don't want to." Oriya established, tapping his fingernails along the indent of my spine. Small noises came from my lips as though they were produced by his tapping upon note cords buried deep beneath my skin. "I ask that nothing more pass between us. Only that we sit together on this bed. And even that, you are under no pressure to commit to."

I thought of _Ra's Sunline _and my commitment that evening to go and question the people that worked there. It was getting late… But oh GOD that bed looked comfortable. And oh GOD the man that was in it looked sexy. Once more I was the rope in a brutal game of tug and war and I was awfully weary of being stretched between everything.

"Uh… Oriya… it's not that I don't want to… because I really, really do, more than you can imagine … but… I have work to be doing and I need to put that first. … I think."

"I understand that completely." Oriya stated, running his hand up my back, his fingers spreading outwards at the base of my neck and massaging the tension that was knotted there. I tilted my head back, crooning against my will at his touch. Will to work… fading… Obligation to Ministry of Hades… fading… Thoughts of quitting job and becoming Pimp's full time housewife… increasing… "But you've worked pretty hard all week… I'm not asking you to spend the whole evening with me. Just ten minutes or so. _Ten minutes_." His eyes looked at me pleadingly, his deep husky voice dropping another cord. "Don't you want to?"

Oh, yes, I wanted to. Without a doubt I wanted to, both physically and emotionally. It took me approximately three and a half seconds to come to my decision.

"I guess… ten minutes isn't going to hurt in the long run…" I murmured.

Oriya smiled and let go of me in order to pull the bed sheets back. He petted the empty space beside him temptingly.

"Hop on in." He said.

It felt strange climbing into Oriya's bed in sexy pants and a tight black tee. It was not at all how I imagined my first transition in between his sheets to be. Not that I was complaining, mind. The bed was warm and soft and Oriya's arm was around me. I felt… safe. And though it was a premature concept, I felt loved in that moment. There was none of that embarrassment from our first night, no hesitant false starts at conversations, no sideways glances or second thoughts. Nothing. I just closed my eyes, resting my face and hand against his stomach and snuggled up beside him, cosseted from the world. There, curled up next to that strong and cultured man, it was as though nothing in existence could lay a finger on me. I even felt protected from my horrible past. From the murders, from everything that hurt my heart and my soul.

Oriya would protect me from it. For some reason I can't explain, I never doubted that. I trusted him with everything I had.

Oriya picked up his book and opened it to the page he had marked and started to read. It didn't bother me. I was able to enjoy the silence, the slight rise and fall of his body, his lungs expanding and deflating, the soft hush of his breath, the thud of his heart. It was such an innocent union that I was even able to wind my legs around his underneath the blankets and know that he wouldn't think I was implying anything by it. Occasionally, he would stroke my shoulder or move his hand down to rub across the indents of my ribcage, but not a word passed between us during all of this.

I had never enjoyed such peaceful serenity with a man before.

"You're wonderful…" I said after the full ten minutes had subsided. "Are you sure old Kami isn't going to come down here and whoop your ass for wandering so far away from Heaven?"

Oriya laughed at this; a great, serenading cackle that was as sincere in its appreciation of my words as his eyes had been only minutes earlier.

"Are you kidding me, fella? Implying that I'm some kinda Angel… my word…" He chuckled happily and spent a kiss against my forehead, still laughing against my skin. "After everything you saw me do to that kid three months ago, after covering up for Muraki, you'd still call me an angel?"

I shrugged, seeing his point but not necessarily agreeing with it. "Hey, it's not as though you're Muraki, Oriya. And Hisoka… well, I'm pretty sure you understood that you would have left no lasting damage. You're just loyal to your friends. I think that makes you pretty damn special. How many men do you think would have done all that you have? It's amazing!"

"Amazing ain't the right word for it. And I'm no angel." His voice was gruff now. And cold. The humor had left it completely. Worried that I'd touched a sore nerve, I ran my fingers up to his neck and traced them across the protruding artery as softly as I could.

"I'm sorry… I don't have any idea what you've gone through with-'' His hand caught my fingers and pressed them to his lips.

"Don't apologize. You haven't done anything wrong. It's just… old wounds I suppose. You understand." He said with dignity.

"Oriya-'' I said, but he cut me off dramatically by his free hand cupping around my cheek, fingernails running up and down over my temple. His eyes held a fierce intensity that I hadn't seen before. As serious as Oriya could be, I had come to realize over the past week that he also had quite a prodigious sense of humor. At that moment however, there was not a distinguishable trace of mirth in his expression.

"Stay with me tonight."

The man seemed to have issues with requesting a person's compliance. Perhaps as a result of his occupation and the skill in which he manipulated those in power meant he rarely had to resort to tactics such as begging.

But… why on earth was I thinking about things like that when he had just asked me to spend the night with him? The reality hit me with thrilling clarity and I felt a sweet little pain in my stomach by the expiration of his sentence.

"You mean you… you want to…" I pointed back and forth between him and myself so fast that my finger became a blur. "Let me sleep in your _bed_?"

He seemed fairly amused by my words and gave my hair a tousle. "That was the general idea yes. Would that make you uncomfortable?"

I shook my head rapidly, almost dismantling my glasses in the process and grabbed a hold of his arm, leaning my face in close to his.

"No! How on earth could that make me feel uncomfortable?" I asked rhetorically. When he seemed to be on the verge of answering this, I grabbed his chin firmly in my hand and yanked his eyes back into alignment with my own. "It's just so… great that you wouldn't mind someone like me sharing your bed without wanting anything else! … There is nothing else that you would expect is there?"

"Oh no, no, no, goodness no." Oriya confirmed sagely, cupping the hand I had placed around his chin and rubbing his thumb across the patch of skin visible through the square cut of my glove. "I only… I only wish for your company tonight. You may think it strange but I… I have a bad feeling. I don't wish to be alone tonight. So… please?"

He was completely serious. He actually desired my company. Needed it rather then wanted it. And how profoundly did I wish then that I had agreed to his proposal, postponed my delegations for another night and snuggled down into bed with him; not without first changing into some suitably sexy pajama's of course. It would have been so easy. I was already kind of tired and lying beside Oriya for ten minutes alone had already dissolved my desire to remove myself from his presence.

But no one could ever accuse me of skirting my responsibilities. I knew I had a job to do. And no matter how good Oriya made me feel, the case was top priority. _She _was top priority. Romance was just gonna have to wait!

"Oriya…" I said, my voice wilting like flower petals in the heat of resilient sunlight. "I can't stay with you right now. I have a lot of work to be getting on with-"

"But it would be safe to assume that you will be sleeping at some point during the night?" Oriya asked in a tone that was as close to desperation as I was sure he could manage. "I'm not asking that you forego your work at this very moment. Only that when you do concede to resting that far overworked brain of yours, that you might return here and do so beside me in this bed. Of course you have every right to say no." As though trying to dissuade me from taking this route, he ducked his face downward and planted a soft kiss against my lips. I had never known a man to be so affectionate with me before. Even one of my more serious boyfriends couldn't bring himself to be tolerant with me. If my lips so much as looked as though they might have expelled the word 'no' he would go into an extended sulking fit and would spend the night facing the opposite wall, acting as though I wasn't in the bed at all. Once upon a time I had been such a weak man that I had given into these guilt trips and would have done what he'd asked of me, just so harmony could be restored. I generally disliked conflict and avoided it whence possible. Fortunately, I had grown up a lot since then and not only was I less prepared to sacrifice my own feelings for those that I was with, I was now infamous for my somewhat feisty personality that was almost an expected trademark of Osaka folks. I was more inclined to be good natured and compassionate, (if not somewhat kooky and silly) but I wasn't compelled to take shit from anyone. Especially people who were supposed to love me. I had become guarded within relationships, since my last one had gone so wrong.

Oriya however did not make me feel uncomfortable. He did not force me to do anything that I was uneasy with; indeed he seemed overtly concerned that he enquired as to my feelings on the subject, following his suggestions. And it wasn't as though he would enforce this gentlemanliness as a means of boosting his situation as many other men were prone to do. It was always fairly easy to tell when someone was being phony about it. (I'd had plenty of experience in these matters and that was just taking into consideration my observations of the Count's attempts to woo Tsuzuki.) But Oriya seemed so sincere… As though sex was never his first priority when it came to anything. That it would be enough that I would sleep at his side, or touch his fingers or share a chaste kiss. It still baffled me how a man like him could have been allied with Muraki; who showed no love or compassion to anything other than Tsuzuki. And I wasn't convinced that that was altogether genuine either.

I wrapped my fists around the halves of Oriya's kimono and leant my head between them, pressed into the wall of his chest. He smelt good… like smoke and tealeaves. I was fairly sure that I could read the future from the lines of his chest.

"I'm not going to say no," I told him softly, paying special attention to his arms as they wrapped around my waist. I could feel the pressure ring through my body like the chime of wedding bells. "This is exactly where I wanna be…" I looked up at him and smiled. "As soon as my works finished, I promise I'll be right here next to you! Though it might be a little late by the time I'm ready to sleep… So don't bother waiting up for me, okay?"

Oriya smirked and rubbed the small of my back with his strong fingers. "Hey, you take as much time as you need, cher. When you're done just come in through the door and hop right in. But… it would be a miracle if you could do it without rousing me. My reflexes being as they are… well, a spider can't make its way across the wall without alerting me to its presence."

I had witnessed the extent of Oriya's spider phobia during the previous week. In fact, it had me doubled up in mirth whilst his servants ran around trying to calm Oriya as he pursued a spider throughout Kokakuro, slicing up every inch of the wall that the arachnid had touched. Considering how advanced his reflexes were, I figured that he would have nailed the critter in a few seconds max but he was so hysterical that every swing went wildly off the mark. He resembled the Summons Sections combined efforts to learn how to play golf on our last staff vacation. Plenty of divets. Plenty of insurance claims. Plenty of lectures and tears from Tatsumi once we were back in the safety of Hades. The point being, was that the spider eventually escaped from Oriya and the rest of the night had been spent repairing the walls and doors that he had dismantled during the high drama chase. I hadn't been able to stop laughing. A grown man of his size and of such normally composed standards, had been roused into flailing hysterics by the sight of an eight legged bug that hadn't even been the size of his thumb. However, it had made me curious in regards to his 'disability', as I had heard him refer to it. The manner in which he had severed that chopping board on that first night… and since then I had seen other similar displays of speed and precision, which just didn't appear possible. At least… not by mortal restrictions.

"About your abilities…" I began but he silenced me primly by setting his finger across my lips.

"Now, now. The less said about that the better." He intoned with a wink. I frowned at him and went to further press my point but was again silenced, this time by a kiss upon my cheek. "I insist that you go on now and get that work done. The sooner you wrap it all up the sooner you can come to bed. Oh and one last thing," I paused, one leg already poised over the edge of the bed. "I don't know if Akemi told you or not but I've instigated a new rule this past week, in accordance to the murders. It applies to not only those that are on my staff but to everyone that I have employed."

"Including me?" I asked.

Oriya set his hand on mine and rubbed my fingers softly. "_Especially _you." He said cryptically and my heart beat a thousand marches in a matter of seconds. "Due to the recent unfortunate circumstances, I have no choice but to implement a curfew. Until the murderer is located, I don't want anyone going out of grounds after the hours of ten o'clock, unless of course they are heading home and they may _only _do so after first confirming it with me and that they are escorted by either myself or with someone that they trust. At the moment it is only Akemi and Mrs. Koneko who are living outside Kokakuro and I know both their partners personally. They are good men; _strong _men and I trust them. Now I understand that this will be something of an inconvenience to you Yutaka, as you will be investigating areas outside Kokakuro in order to effectively solve this case. I apologize but I must insist that you delegate all expeditions to the daytime hour. If this is impossible, then I ask that you make it known to me at the time of departure the reason why you must go at such a late hour. If I see that there is no other option left available to you and I am unable to negotiate a more favorable time in which you might make your visit, then I will accompany you to your designation. It is under my responsibility as your employer that I do so, regardless of any danger you might face. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Oh dear God… This meant that I was going to have to tell him right now to get out of bed and come with me to _Ra's Sunline_, which was totally unacceptable! He said just previously that he was resting his leg and didn't fancy moving, so to make him shift his ass now… I would have liked to have lectured him about the stupidity of applying such a rule to me when I was a grown man and a Guardian at that, but I think he was trying to be chivalrous. I think. Still, I resented the fact that he hadn't considered the possibility that I might have actually been capable of taking care of myself. For crying out loud… I grew up in Osaka; the bad boy city of Japan! Even with a (possibly) demonic killer on the loose, I doubted that I would encounter too much trouble questioning a few folks at a bar.

I would look back at these thoughts later and laugh very bitterly.

I winked at Oriya and made an 'OK' sign with my fingers. "Perfectly Boss!"

Oriya smiled and raised my fingers to his lips, kissing the very tips of them. "That's a good boy. Now, go finish up your work and return to me."

I nodded and climbed out of that warm bed with much reluctance. I was heading towards the door when Oriya called me back.

"What is it?" I asked, pausing at his bedside and leaning down. He made a whirling motion with his finger.

"Turn around." He said simply.

Such a command was never usually followed by anything I would be comfortable telling people out loud, but in this instance it was nothing so scandalous. As I stood there, with my back to the beautiful man in the bed, I felt his hands slide up my hips and his fingers hooked around my visible thong straps. Before I could issue a sound of protest, he tugged them down sharply and tucked them into the hem of my pants where they could not be seen.

"Oriya?" I asked, confused by this sudden compulsion of his.

He snorted gruffly, fingers fetching around the hem of my pants to make sure that no part of the straps were visible.

"It looks tarty, Yutaka." He said simply, rubbing his thumb across the skin of my hip comfortingly. "You're not a tarty man. You look beautiful in clothing like this and there is simply no need for the effect to be ruined by presenting yourself like a sexually promiscuous teenage girl. You're worth a little more than that."

_Am I worth more than that? _I found myself wondering. It was a question that was torturously difficult to answer, even within the confines of my own head.

"I don't know…" I whispered, walking back towards the door. I don't think he heard me.

The bed shifted under his weight as he settled down. There was a rustle as he retrieved his novel and opened it back up to the place where he had marked it. I turned my head to say goodbye and was a little taken aback by the expression on his face. His eyes were focused on the pages of the book and his mouth was creased into a tight thin line. He seemed angry.

"Trust that _I _know." Was all he said. And I knew that he had heard. "Now, go on and finish your work. I'll be waiting for you."

My tongue was struck mute. All I could manage was a rigid snap of my head, which barely passed for a bow and then I slid the door shut with a rude amount of gusto. I was surprised that it didn't slide right through the wall and collapse the foundations of the building. But Oriya didn't complain. At least not verbally.

I left Oriya's room with that familiar twisting sensation writhing about in my abdomen. It was a good pain, an exciting pain, like being bitten during a moment of explosive passion. As important as my work at _Ra's Sunline _was, a large part of me was selfishly cherishing the moment when I would be able to return to Oriya's room and curl up with him. It had been so long since the last time I had shared a bed with a man, with the intention of sleeping and nothing else. … Excluding the times when Tsuzuki and I had collapsed on one of our beds after a night out of heavy drinking. Though I think a fair amount of cuddling went on then too… but if it hadn't been Tsuzuki it would have been the pillow. In that state either was just as good.

As though indicative of my thoughts, the moment that I stepped back into my room to retrieve my shoes, my mobile phone rang from the charger against the wall. I made my way over to it and picked it up, checking the name that had appeared on the small, brightly flashing screen.

_**-TSUZUKI CALLING-**_

**Tsuzuki**

Right! I'll take over from here, since if it's going to be told, it may as well be told from me. And before I get started, if anyone here laughs, or chortles, or looks as though they find my drunken rambling to be amusing in any way, shape or form, I swear that when these handcuffs are taken off, you'll be the first ones I'll be coming after. Are we clear? Good. I know you'll all let me down anyway but I just thought I'd say it while I had a chance.

Okay, so it was me calling that night. And before anyone asks, yes, I was indeed drunk at the time of this phone call. Chalk it up to depression at being paid the lowest amount in the Judgment Bureau, despite all the work and the hours I put in.

And the fact that it had been exactly one week since I had seen Muraki and considering the way that things had been left between us… could anyone blame me for feeling nervy? I keep expecting the guy to pop out of broom closets at work with armfuls of roses and extravagant apologies in the form of expensive holidays and teeny maid's outfits that I would be blackmailed into wearing on our next outing. Drinking was the only thing helping me sleep at night. Though it kept me tossing and turning all day at work, much to Tatsumi's nostril flaring disapproval. If the guy had ever suffered a hangover in his life, he would have understood my agony too. But no… he couldn't understand what I was currently going through because I hadn't told him. I had meant to, (really!) time and time again but something always conveniently came along and saved my pay-check from the imminent destruction Tatsumi would unleash upon it once hearing of my involvement with dear Dr. Satan. Not to mention how close I had come last time to… to… My cheeks went red every time I thought about it! The next day at work, nursing a very crippling hangover and a shitload of embarrassment, I couldn't come close to forgetting everything that had happened. To Pandora… the demon… but most of all, Muraki's hands all over my body, touching me as I had never been touched before. I had let him take my clothes off and press to my naked body, let him kiss me and stroke me and run his hands across my ass… I had asked him… asked him… It made me want to scream with frustration. Anger at Muraki, anger at myself for how much I had desperately wanted it at that moment. I'd been… so horny. Nothing in my life could have compared to the state of arousal I had found myself in that night. Muraki had been right though. The next morning I would have regretted it. I regretted going as far as I already had but it had been him, not me, that had forced me to consider the aftermath of my reckless actions. For his own selfish reasons of course, not my own. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that it had been me who would have done it if he hadn't said no. It was my blood that was hot, it was me that decided that I wanted him to penetrate my body and fuck me until I had fainted. I couldn't go near Hisoka for the guilt of it. I moved into another office in order to get through my paper work and took to avoiding him when it wasn't necessary that we were together. He knew that something was up; Hisoka's not stupid and where his powers were unable to make the connection, his mind filled in the spaces. But I just couldn't tell him… I couldn't have faced that look in his eyes, that expression of deepest betrayal. I couldn't have handled him _hating _me.

So I dealt with it alone. Which was so unbelievably stupid of me. I had tried to do this before with the knowledge of my past and it had very nearly stripped me of my sanity. It could very well have done the same a second time. I tried dealing with alcohol. In the week that Muraki was absent from my afterlife, I filled the nights alone drinking in the Tokyo bars close by to the _Sakura Zensen_ so that I was able to drag myself home afterwards. That night hadn't been any different. But I was in desperate need of talking to someone who understood my plight. Someone who knew what I was going through and I didn't have to hide it from when I spoke to them. I needed to speak with Watari. … No… No, what I needed was him back with me, taking care of me. Taking care of me the way he had after Kyoto three months ago and even then, in the days preceding and following. When I was too drunk to drag myself out of a pile of my own vomit, he would wipe me clean and bathe me, get me dressed for bed and stay with me all night to see that I slept well. Even when nothing else was going right for me, I was always assured of that much; a warm and sensitive man that lived only across the hall from me, whom I could run to whenever I had need of him. And he would always open that door and welcome me inside.

But he wasn't there anymore. His apartment was filled only with the sounds of the two pets he had been unable to take to Kyoto; his Penguin I-T2 and his Toucan- Project 59 (Why couldn't he give his pets _normal _names?) whom I went over to feed every morning and evening. I was lonely without him. It just wasn't as fun at work without his exuberant presence. Now, faced with his absence I began to realize just how neglectful I had been of him since Hisoka and I had become partners. I wondered if Watari had noticed this, or whether he in fact cared at all that it had happened? He wasn't the type of guy who would begrudge anyone for alternating their affections towards those who had need of it. And he had never been sharpish or cruel to Hisoka, so there was no indication that he was bitter of him. But maybe I was simply overrating the importance of my friendship.

Thousands of words were racing through my mind that night. Hisoka had insisted on coming out to the bar with me. (Apparently Tatsumi had noticed my lush-ish behavior in the last couple of days and was worried but had the institutionalized power of delegating less favorable tasks to the underlings. These tasks were of course dragging my drunken body back to my apartment. Tatsumi still hadn't recovered from the time Watari and I had taken him out to celebrate his hundredth and eleventy-twelfth birthday and Watari had thrown up on his shoes.) In Hisoka's presence I managed to moderate the amount of drinks I consumed, not working to weaken my psyche and allow him easier access to my emotions. (Drinking weakens our psychic barriers because when we are intoxicated we aren't exactly in fine form. Our concentration lapses.) Therefore, I was only moderately tipsy by the time we both headed back to _Sakura Zensen _but I made up for it by making myself a couple of tall screwdrivers once I was in the shabby but cozy interior of my living room. Since I had a tendency to add more vodka to my concoctions then orange juice, I soon found myself well and truly drunk. Not as drunk as I had been with Muraki mind. I came to myself somewhat after throwing up and catching a glimpse of my reflection in the stainless steel of my sink. That's when it fell to me to clean myself up, brush my teeth and make myself a cup of coffee. I wasn't going to become a stupid drunk because of Muraki, Goddammit. I'd come through worse then this and I rose above that. I would rise above this too.

My head was swimming with the remaining haze of alcohol that I hadn't managed to expel from my system but I was starting to feel better after a good half hour of resting and sipping water and coffee in alteration. I was thinking of Muraki and then of Watari and then of the future possibilities that might have come about from my continuation of this deal with the white doctor. Though I had not seen him in a week, he had called me once. I hadn't picked up, furious though I was and he instead settled for leaving me quite a lengthy message on my machine. He apologized for what had passed between us and mentioned, almost in passing, that he was going to Saiki for business and probably wouldn't be able to see me for some time. He couldn't specify an exact date but he would get back into contact with me as soon as he returned to Tokyo, which he hoped would be very soon. Oh, and he had washed my suit for me and would return it to me, when next we met. The minutes would seem like hours until we could be reunited, blah, blah, blah, crap, crap, crap, whatever. The sad thing was, coming from anyone else, the words would have made my toes curl. To hear them spoken in Muraki's nasally undertones, especially after what had happened a week ago, I wanted nothing more then to have thrown the answering machine out of the window. Then have it run over a few times. But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it. And even worse, somewhere deep down, in the part of myself that I hated the most, I couldn't deny that the message sparked a sense of melancholy. Because… Oh God how I despised it… but I missed him…

When I had realized this, I had cried whilst I had been standing over the answering machine, trying to muster the courage to press delete and rid myself of his presence within my apartment forever. But I couldn't… And so I cried and walked away from the machine, wanting to curl up and die. I was such a worthless piece of shit! To feel that way about the man who had ruined Hisoka's life, who had ruined so many people's lives… I deserved to die. I deserved to die… It became a mantra that I repeated to myself as I cried; something that didn't calm me but only made me cry harder. Because I didn't want to die but I knew it was what I deserved.

When Muraki returned, he would eventually want more from me. Would I be able to give it? Would I _want _to give it? Was that even relevant? I didn't even know anymore… But I wanted to be ready for the inevitable, whatever it was.

So it was, on that Wednesday night, a week after I had last seen Muraki, that I shamelessly got on the phone to Watari late at night and posed a question to him that I couldn't have imagined ever asking. Not anyone. Not ever. I blame the screwdrivers that were still determinedly drilling deep down into my consciousness.

"What's it like?" I asked the second Watari had picked up. There was a silence on the other line as my friend obviously tried to make heads or tails of this.

"Uh… hi Tsuzuki. Nice to hear from you, too. What's 'what' like?" He asked curiously, but in a tone that suggested that he wasn't going to like what 'what' was at any rate. I doubted he would have been thrilled either but I really needed to know. I was scared out of my brain at the prospect… of what I had nearly done a week ago and what to have expected if it came down to actually…

"You know, anal sex." I said conversationally as I took another sip from my coffee. If I hadn't been half drunk, I would never even have had the courage to bring up the topic of sex, let alone ask Watari what it was like. Once again, the screwdrivers. "I'm worried that next time I'm with Muraki I might, well, you know! So, I want to know what it's like so that I know what to expect."  
Watari had elapsed into a coughing fit on the other line. Clearly this was something he hadn't been expecting either. It took him a full minute to come to his senses whilst I sat there, chalking up my phone bill.

"Tsuzuki! You're not actually thinking about you-know-what with you-know-who, are you?" He asked incredulously. Then he answered his own question. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yep." I said proudly. "But that ain't got nothing to do with the fact that I'll probably most likely, maybe, probably, will end up havin' sex with the guy. I mean, that's what he's aiming for right?"

"Oh Tsuzuki," Watari said softly and his tone was as pitying as I had ever heard it. "Honey, you can't just give it away like that. Do you have any idea how awesome it is that you've managed to stay a virgin for so long? Do you _really _wanna throw it away on Muraki?"

I shrugged, even though he couldn't very well see me and took another gulp of my coffee. Everything was coming into focus a lot more easily now, though I knew I was going to have another killer hangover in the morning.

"Doesn't really matter what I want, does it?" I slurred, tucking my legs beneath me on the couch and whipping my tie off from around my neck. I threw it over the arm of the couch and let it hang there. "I'm just thinkin' about what's pro'lly gonna happen."

"I can only imagine what _Tatsumi_ thinks about this…" Watari muttered and I felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that I hadn't actually told Tatsumi anything regarding my predicament. "Well… whatever the case I suppose it wouldn't hurt to humor you. If indeed you do end up doing… _thingy _with Dr. Satan, you'll have some way of anticipating what is likely to occur. The fact that you asked so blatantly however is not something one expects to hear when answering the phone in the evening."

"You gonna tell me or not?" I asked impatiently.

Watari seemed to sit on this for a while, as though trying to determine from which angle to come at it from. Finally he settled on what I suppose was the direct approach.

"Well let's see… anal sex is… well it…" He was having trouble finding the words, so I decided to help by firing off the question that I had always pondered over during most of my existence.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, setting my coffee cup down on the table and wondering whether Watari was blushing whilst he attempted to explain this to me. I would have been, if I hadn't been half drunk. "From what I've heard it sounds really painful… but then guys keep on having sex like that, so there must be something good in the whole thing right? What's the secret?"

"There's no secret Tsuzuki, it just takes practice." Watari explained languidly, as though he had been teaching Sex-Ed his whole life. "The first time you allow another man to penetrate you it always hurts because your body isn't yet used to it. In your case, you probably won't ever be able to grow accustomed to it because you're already dead. Your body will keep trying to heal."

Well, there's a cheery thought.

"However, if you have a considerate partner, (and I wouldn't bet my teeth on Muraki being all that gentle in the sack either) who prepares you thoroughly beforehand, then it will hurt markedly less. You have to ensure that you are stretched and lubricated well before penetration. The more time spent on this the better. And if your partner is gentle whilst penetrating you then you can avoid most of the initial sting. Though there's always going to be pain involved Tsuzuki. It's part and parcel with being gay."

Ain't that the truth. "So, Watari… what was your first time like? Did it hurt really bad? Is there anything I should know?"

Watari was quiet for a long time and just when I thought that I had asked a very personal, very rude question, he spoke, shattering my thoughts and then bringing my senses out of drunken haziness with a close to bitter, angry reply.

"My first time wasn't idyllic, Tsuzuki. It was so _anti-idyllic _actually that one might even say it wasn't exactly consensual. Which is why I want you to take every measure to avoid making the same mistakes."

"Watari-"

He plowed on as though he hadn't heard me. "I'm not sure what advice I can give you for being with Muraki. He's obviously very fond of you but there's not guarantee that he's going to be gentle just because of that. You may have to resign yourself to the fact that he might not be. The most important thing in this case, to spare yourself any pain would be to relax your body as much as possible. If you tighten up, it's additionally painful. Try to make sure that you're lubricated well before anything happens, even if it means letting Muraki use his mouth down there. _Yes Tsuzuki, you know exactly what I'm talking about_." He said as I groaned and blushed. I'd always been uncomfortable with the notion of rimming and imagining Muraki's lips anywhere near the same place that I… well, it just creeped me out. "There's no point in being shy once you've started, you _must _take care of yourself because Muraki isn't likely to."

"Once again, might I ask if anything good actually comes out of sex?" I was rubbing my forehead, trying to keep my brain exploding from the depth he was going through to give me a good lesson.

Watari made a noise of affirmation. "Mmmhmm. Yep. There will be pain to start off with, but it eventually gets better. It may take a few tries before you get used to it but after a while, it starts to feel really good. Especially if your partner can hit your prostate."

Being an old, sexually inactive man, I wasn't exactly sure what the prostate was. I didn't spend too much time thinking about, I must confess. All I knew was that it was something like the female clitoris and that it was good. Fearing being labeled stupid and receiving a two hour science lecture over what the prostate was, I put it aside under 'Things that need to be better researched later on Encyclopedia Britannica.'

"Now, is there anything else I can help you with? Would you like me to fax you over an extensive guide to various sex positions? I'm sure I can find something through Google." Watari concluded, sounding tired and irritable. I decided to be kind and wrap up the conversation as soon as possible.

"Just one more question; How are things going between you and Oriya? Has anything good happened yet? Well! Come on, spill!"

This was clearly the right thing to ask in this case. Watari's drowsiness immediately evaporated.

"Oh, Tsuzuki, it's wonderful. Get this; one minute after I had introduced myself, the guy grabbed me and kissed me! Right there on the doorstep! We almost ended up doing it that very night."

I whistled, suitably impressed. "Wow… I underestimated how fast even you can be, Watari. And hey, don't get me wrong, it's great and all, but why the hell did he kiss you the second he met you? That seems a little… premature doesn't it? Or am I just getting old?"

Watari chuckled. "I won't touch that one. But you're right; I did think it was a little bit strange at first, not that I'm complaining mind. It seems that Muraki spoke to him that night I accompanied you both to dinner. Told Oriya that I fancied him."

"Muraki did?" I didn't bother to hide my surprise. "That doesn't seem like him."

"Not exactly the type to play matchmaker, is he? Regardless, you can thank him for me! Everything seems to be going well… casewise it is dragging a bit, but I'm sure something will come up. After our impulsive fumblings that first night, Oriya backed off for a bit and I figured that he probably just came to his senses and realized what a huge bungle he nearly made. But he spoke to me this evening and said he wanted to take things slow and then… then he kissed me!" He was rambling on like an excited child in a tizzy over a new toy they had just received after five months of anticipating its arrival. His eagerness made me smile. "It's so weird… when I'm around him, he stirs a desire in me like I've never known before. Not with anything! I' m so happy it's scary! Do you think there's something wrong with me? Or is this truly that mysterious chemistry that they call love? Oh, who gives a damn; I'm happy! "

"Watari," I tried to reason but it was difficult to sound rational when I was tipsy and grinning from ear to ear. "You just met the guy a week ago and you sound ready to give up your whole life to cook his meals and do his laundry for him."

"I am. I love him." Watari declared loutishly.

"You do not love him, you barely know him." Again, my powerful logic was ignored in favor of Watari's prevailing adoration.

"Yes, I do. I love him and I'm going to marry him and have his babies." He said, managing to convey all of this without the slightest flicker of a giggle. I, on the other hand, was rolling with laughter.

"Okay, love him I might be willing to let slide. But marrying him and having his babies? They won't let two men marry any time soon and that's assuming Oriya would agree to it in the first place and having babies is even out of your league, Watari!"

The scientist didn't skip a beat. "Well, I'll just have to perfect that sex-change potion then, won't I?" He sang heartily. I laughed, finding almost everything the man said to be funny. I was in one of those moods.

"You crazy guy." I said affectionately, wishing he could have been there so I could have given him a big hug. "Well… you take it easy over there, hear? Try to pace yourself. Oh, and say a big hello to 003 from Uncle Tsuzuki."

"I'll make sure he gets the message." Watari said, with an equal amount of affection.

"And also, send me a picture of this Oriya guy through email, why dontcha? I wanna see if he's as hot as you make him out to be."

"Suclablur! How could you even doubt my immaculate taste?" Watari cried in a faux French accent. He completed the effect by breaking off into a perverted giggle. "Though I must admit, it would be my pleasure to take some candid photographs of him when he least expects it…"

I grimaced. "I would prefer it if he was clothed in the pictures, Watari, thank you. Anyway, I guess I should be letting you go now. It's kinda late."

"True, true…" Watari admitted reluctantly. "Give my love to all the guys in the Summons Section. Tell 'em I miss em all and tell Terazuma that I did indeed get his 46 text messages and that I have simply taken to ignoring him, whilst laughing at his current dilemma from the safety of Kyoto."

I smiled nervously. "Is there actually a cure for what you've done to him, Watari? Or is he expected to walk around with… well, you-know, for the rest of eternity?"

An evil chuckle wafted down the phone line. Watari could really give Muraki a run for his money with a malevolent little snicker like that.

"Well, of course, I could easily tell him how to fix the problem but where's the fun in that? Chikawa would scold me terribly if I took the thrill out of his current project!"

"Chikawa…? Is that the guy that's standing in for you at the moment?"

"Mmmhmm. He's training to be my assistant. I think he may just have the knack to keep up with my brilliant standards… call it a hunch of the intellect."

"Yes, well… all right," I said, not entirely convinced. From what I had seen so far, the eternally stationed 17-year-old trainee scientist had been just as insane as Watari. Possibly even more so. And he seemed to be enjoying purposefully evading Terazuma's cure, just so he could laugh at the freak's reactions. It was kind of funny but still… it wasn't exactly a brilliant professional move for an apprentice to make. That sort of thing was best left to Watari, who could get away with pulling off stupid shit and still receive a decent pay check at the end of the week.

Cue bitter sigh.

Watari and I wrapped up our conversation and I placed my phone back in its charger. Together, they were about the most expensive things in my apartment. I looked around the cluttered living room, finding everything suddenly void and dull now that the voice on the other end had vacated the line. I was left to my regrettably previous and well entrenched state of mind. Here I was; ninety years of existence and at that moment I felt every single day of it. I was weary, my eyes stung, my throat burned and I was alone and lonely.

You wouldn't think it. I didn't find it difficult to bond with people, but here I was in my apartment on a Wednesday night. Half drunk and depressed. I found myself wondering what I was going to do with the rest of the night. Hell, screw the rest of the night, what was I supposed to do with the rest of my eternity? The prospect of future was like shifting sand between my fingers; no substance to grasp a hold of and secure with firm countenance and responsibility. It strayed through the gaps, fell away dissolved with the ever increasing mass beneath it until there was nothing left but stray remains.

Was I, Asato Tsuzuki, the remains of sand? Insubstantial, prospective future in the palm of some greater power? If so, I wished he would have given me a half-cocked decent answer to explain my greater purpose, because I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

I was all alone.

I had been whittled down to nothing but the stray remains of prospect. My destiny was all beneath me and the future was nothing but bare, insatiable molecules that could only occupy the space of time for so long. Soon, every inch of me would have to be washed away.

But when? And how? How was I going to leave this existence?

Would I ever leave it?

Did I want to leave it?

… Did it matter what I wanted?

I knew one thing for certain. I wanted to cry again. For some reason, that very night I felt as though every single person I had ever loved could have done very well without me in the world. I was unnecessary. I could be easily replaced. I wasn't needed.

But then…

_"You are different because you and I are the same. The same creatures, walking two different paths that either of us could have taken. I need you to teach me all that you have learnt by walking down that path, Mr. Tsuzuki. And I can teach you what I have learnt. Maybe that way, by coming together, we can be complete in a way we otherwise could not be."_

I sat at the Kitchen island, sipping at my coffee until the bare undissolved dregs were left and I deposited the cup in the sink, to be cleaned up when I could be bothered. I made my way slowly into the bedroom, where I fished my pajamas out of the top drawer of my cabinet, pausing to touch the gifts that Pandora had bestowed upon me before his violent demise. The handkerchief and stuffed owl were propped in front of a framed picture of Hisoka and I in one of those photo booths you see around the shopping complexes. Every time I saw Hisoka, I was reminded of Pandora, owing to their uncanny appearances.

Feeling depressed enough as it was, I turned from the gifts, almost defiantly and went to have another shower, hoping it might help relax me. Muraki's words kept on swirling around and around in my head, like liquid in the cup of an overly contemplative person.

I had Muraki on the brain. I had Muraki Syndrome.

I wondered if that was cause enough for Euthanasia but I doubted my doctor would have been sympathetic. Considering that the Summons Sections doctor was Watari.

The shower felt great, to put it lightly. I began to feel as though the steam was carrying away my depression, forming condensations of tears along the glass surfaces. I brushed my teeth in the shower and stalled for other things to do, not wanting to get out even at the expense of the hot water. I washed my hair. I scrubbed myself down with shower gel that left me smelling like a pineapple. I shaved my armpits, legs and even did my face. It seemed strange to me that body hair kept on growing back, even though our bodies were in suspended animation of the way that we appeared before we died. (Obviously undamaged and not with huge gaping wounds in our heads or arms for that matter) I wasn't usually prone to growing an abundance of whiskers but due to my lackadaisical approach to just about everything in the past week, I had developed something of a five o'clock shadow, which alikened me to an old fashioned Dick in early television shows. (At least, I liked to think so) But since I needed something to do in the shower (that didn't sink so low as to indulge in anything dirty, thankyouverymuch) the five o'clock came off. I brushed my teeth a second time and then sat down in the shower stall and let the water pound against my back for a couple of minutes. I felt thoroughly at ease for the first time in a long time. I was practically sober once I stepped out of the (cooling) spray of water.

Feeling in the mood to be attentive towards myself, I went to work fixing up just about any tiny flaw I could find that I could do something about. I trimmed my fingernails and toenails and plucked my eyebrows. (Something I usually make Watari do, because he always manages to shape them just right. … The eyebrows, not my toenails. The man is a genius with a pair of tweezers. Almost matches my skill in the kitchen.) I rubbed some various moisturizing lotions into my skin and face, spraying on some body mist and running a calming leave in conditioner through my hair. (Though I was fighting a losing battle there. My hair never looked tidy. Not like Tatsumi's. I swear, the man must sticky tape it down or something before he leaves for work. Or maybe he uses superglue or mashed banana. Maybe even cement. It certainly doesn't look like any natural or man made force could shake it.) When I was thoroughly done being a complete meterosexual (and setting off every single gaydar in a twenty mile radius), I headed over to the washing basket, on which I had set my pajamas. I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror, hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

I stepped close to it, fanning my hand through the thin layer of condensation that had beaded across the glass and then stepped back to appraise myself.

_"Do you desire it my friend? A perfect physical form…"_

I'd never really stopped to consider just why Muraki and… certain others, thought my body to be anything special. I just wasn't one of those people who really thought these things through. But there, in my bathroom that night with the aftertaste of alcohol lingering throughout my senses, I took a moment to try and figure out just what it was that the accursed mixed blood flowing through my veins had given me. Was my body truly anything to be marveled at? Was it the 'perfect physical form' that Muraki had alluded to?

I considered, assessing my naked figure with a critical eye. My legs were long and shapely, my thighs taut and muscle tone rather definitive. It had always struck me as somewhat bizarre, considering that I had not been athletic during my life and the last eight years of it had been spent in hospital, where I wasn't exactly in the state to get out and run laps around the garden. Why on earth was my body maintained this way? During life, I hadn't seen much of the sun but the roof of the Sakura Zensen provided an ample vantage point in which not only myself, but various other residents could work on acquiring a bit of color. My tan was fairly even and on the areas that I kept covered, the darkened skin blended in rather nicely towards the veiled regions. I had wide, arched hips with indented sketches to outline my loins. Overall, my muscle structure was quite good. My stomach was flat and my pectorals and abdominals were well preserved. My fingers were long, hands were nicely shaped and my arms were firm. I didn't have very many body markings; one or two freckles here and there but no birthmarks or moles. No piercings, no tattoos, no body art of any persuasion. I reached back and cupped my hands around my buttocks, squeezing them roughly. They weren't nearly as prominent as Watari's but they were nicely rounded and very firm; somewhat perky and at the same time tight. I had very little pubic hair and though I had admittedly seen very little of other men's penises I knew that my own was quite substantial in comparison.

My face… well… I suppose that I was good looking. I possessed a nice jaw structure, and though not as pretty as Hisoka, my own features were attractive in more masculine way. My lips were not full but they weren't thin. My bottom lip was slightly larger than my top, something that I hadn't noticed before. I had a slight, straight nose and obedient ears, that didn't stray too far from the side of my head. There were no freckles or markings on my face. I had never suffered with acne as a teenager. There had been worse sufferings to concern myself with than spots.

My teeth were straight. The only damn problem I could find with my body, were my goddamned, hideous eyes. Purple… what a dumb eye color. Whoever thought of giving me purple eyes should have a pineapple shoved up their ass. A purple pineapple, now that would be irony for them.

I stood, gazing at my naked, slightly reddened body for what felt like hours. So… I had found the form that Muraki desired. That the Count was going to love with his real body, if I ever gave him half the chance. Yet, I saw nothing incredibly special regarding my appearance. I mean, sure I was nice looking but I'd definitely seen prettier. Hisoka was prettier. Muraki was far more beautiful than I could ever hope to be. What was so great about this body that housed me?

I guess one might say that it was the body of sin; a body made entirely for one purpose, a purpose that I had not yet fulfilled. It was a body designed for either one of two reasons; destruction or sex. It had the full potential of fulfilling each rationale. It could easily satisfy a man or woman and it could easily destroy.

But there was no compassion in any line or curve. It wasn't a body made to love. It was hard and carnal. Every edge was sharp… so sharp it could draw blood. Like the iris of a cat, it serenaded a deep contusion that punctured despair and life, the separated one half into two and left them in perpetual, eternal imbalance. This was the body that meant either and nothing.

I was sick of looking at myself.

I sighed, turning away from the mirror and grabbing my pajamas off of the basket and pulling them on. I was wearing a long pair of pants with puppy paw-prints on them and a raggy old tee that came down nearly to my knees. Once I was dressed I re-examined myself in the mirror and much preferred the vision I saw staring back. With my dripping hair and somewhat compromised attire I looked a total dork. And that was the side of me that people liked. It was the side of me that I liked. Sweet and humorous and normal. Not a monster…

Yawning, I snapped on the watch that Muraki had bought for me, tossed the wet towel into the clothesbasket and stepped out of the bathroom, switching off the light as I left. My pajama pants were too long and I was forced to kick them out of the way of my feet as I headed back into the lounge room, where I intended to make myself a cup of hot chocolate and watch some mindless television show for an hour or so. It was the best way to spend the residual dragging time before bed.

I was almost frightened of sitting down, of halting my progress. I knew that as soon as I allowed myself the privilege of relaxing, my thoughts would start to wander again and I would soon unearth something else to feel depressed about.

I had just fished the chocolate mix out of the cupboard above the sink when the doorbell rang. Placing the canister on the bench, I shuffled over to the door and stooped, in order to align my eye with the peephole.

I didn't see anyone out there.

"Hmm? Well that's strange…" I said aloud, stepping back away from the door and rubbing my chin. "Doorbells don't just ring on their own… well… at least mine doesn't. Oh! Maybe someone left something by the door, like a delivery guy and just couldn't be fucked waiting for me to answer! I'll bet that's it!"

Thrilled by my pithy insight, I drew the chain latch out and swung the door inwards, gazing down at the floor as I did.

Sure enough, there was something sitting there, waiting for me.

A very long stemmed, very thorny and spiteful looking rose. Still mostly curled up in a defensive bulb but beautifully maintained none the less. I stared down at it, feeling a lump rise and fall in my throat.

"This… never precedes anything good…" I said, bending down to retrieve the flower, knowing full well who had left it there. "Still, no note no nothing. Nice of him to just drop the damn thing and-''

"For you to say something so cold Mr. Tsuzuki," A very familiar voice intoned humorously from my near left. I straightened up, rose in hand to see Muraki leaning against the wall just next to my door, eyes shut and shaking his head whilst wearing the slightest of smiles. "I'm hurt, that you would think I'd go to all the trouble to find out where it is that you live, only to leave a present at your door without expending even the preliminaries of decency?" He opened his visible eye, turning his face so that I could see his brow rise in a show of faux indignation. "Now, now… I may be a resigned murderer but no one has ever yet accused me of taking leave of my manners."

I gritted my teeth, squeezing the rose stem a little too hard and feeling the thorns penetrate deeply into my hand. I had never been particularly fond of roses. I always thought that they were spiteful, angry flowers with way too many defenses against the helpful green thumb.

"Muraki! How on earth did you find where I-?"

"The same way that I found your mobile phone number." He established simply, stepping around me and entering the apartment with flourish. "Though, I must admit as a result of my vow to you, I have had no choice recently but to release all of the creatures in my service. I simply do not have enough power to bind them effectually to me for any longer. Terribly tiresome but… it's a worthy sacrifice."

"No one said that you could come in…" I muttered, trying to conceal a blush by hiding behind the rose. There was no point in saying anything though, as Muraki was only likely to ignore me anyway. I sighed heavily, shutting the door and latching it firmly, hoping that no one I knew would be dropping by whilst Muraki was here. That would have made the situation ten times more uncomfortable than it needed to be. "So… back from Saiki clearly. How was your trip?"

It felt weird making small talk with the man that I had hated for so long. What felt even weirder however, was the fact that I was feeling… moderately better in his presence. Trying not to let any of this show, I moved back into the kitchen, searching through the cupboard for a mug.

Muraki looked over at me and smiled genuinely. I had to admit, he was looking good. His hair had grown a little longer, which made him look younger. He was wearing his usual white suit and trenchcoat combination, the latter of which he had folded up neatly and placed on one of my armchairs. After a moment or so, his jacket joined it and Muraki was left slightly less constricted in his dull gray shirt, loosening the knot in his tie slightly so that it resembled immaculately how I wore my own to work. I suddenly remembered what it was that I was wearing and I felt my cheeks go red.

"It was fine, thankyou." He said, in response to my question. "I was checking up on a patient of mine that came to Tokyo about a year or so back. A woman in her early forties, she suffered an aneurysm and I operated on her personally."

"There weren't any complications were there? She didn't have a relapse, did she?" I asked worriedly. I knew that despite Muraki's unfavorable outside pursuits, he was a fine physician. One of the best in Japan. But still… even doctors could make mistakes. I had my suspicions that the unpreventable death of patients had been what had broken Muraki initially. But of course, that was merely postulation, nothing more.

Muraki glanced over from one of my wall paintings that he had been examining and chuckled. "There is nothing to concern yourself over Mr. Tsuzuki. In fact, she was in better health than I was. I stayed in a hotel where the conditions were less then hospitable. I have a terribly allergy to a particular cleaning agent, and of course it happened to be the one that the maid scoured my room with. I sneezed so often that it was any wonder my organs didn't vacate my body through my nose."

"You know, they say that if you sneeze four times in a row, you can experience a mild orgasm!" I exclaimed and then immediately went bright red and tried to hunch my face down between my shoulders. Why the hell I had burst out with that particular bit of trivia was beyond me. "I mean… uh… do you… fancy something to drink? I think I have some tea around here somewhere…"

"Please." Muraki said, moving out of the lounge area and stepping up to the kitchen. He watched me for a while, his intensity making for a comfortable atmosphere. That was sarcasm of course. I had felt more at ease in front of a raging Tatsumi, brandishing another bill in my face. The silence extended for as long as we both could handle it and I finally punctured it.

"So, you gonna explain what you're doing here?" I asked without looking at him.

Muraki seemed surprised. "Is it a problem that I visit my lover?"

Cue blush.

"Don't be so presumptuous. You can't refer to me as your lover when we haven't even been to bed together. And besides… that statement seems to imply that you and are in something of a relationship. That ain't what this is. We have a… business arrangement, nothing more."

I found a small vase and filled it up with water, sliding the rose into it so that the poor thing would get at least a few days more life before it inevitably withered up and died.

"I'm hurt." Muraki said. He didn't sound the least bit hurt.

"Oh. Well poor baby." I said sarcastically, fossicking about in the cupboard nearest to him for the teabags. He came around the kitchen island and I felt his hands slide around my waist and draw me back against his body. I struggled to get out of his hold. "Don't touch me." I hissed, scowling at his serenely content face as he wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my shoulder and the side of my face. "You think I've forgotten what happened one week ago? I know I'm not the brightest bulb around, Muraki, but I have a damned long memory. It'll be a while before I forget the indignation I suffered that night."

"I don't understand, my love." He said, withdrawing his arms from my midsection but setting his hands atop my shoulders instead, turning me around to face him. He was still smiling. Still enjoying the situation. "It was I who refuted you. I that prevented you from feeling even more humiliated by your actions later. I apologized. Most profusely. I don't understand how I am at fault for any of this."

I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut again, having nothing to say in retaliation. He was right of course. Muraki could always outsmart me no matter how hard I tried. I was only behaving so coldly now because I was disgusted with how I was feeling.

The fact that I was no longer depressed.

Why?

"Never mind…" I grumbled, trying to shuck my shoulders out of his grasp. He held on tight however, his smile not fading one iota.

"Do I not at least warrant a 'Welcome home' kiss from my beloved?" He asked gently, his thumb rotating across my shoulder blade. I felt stupid standing in front of him in my childish looking pajamas. I wondered if he had even given them a second thought. … But then again, Muraki only ever saw me naked so why was I concerning myself with what I was that I was wearing? He would only look right through them.

"I don't think so." I snapped, trying to deny to myself more than anyone that a kiss would have felt great at that moment. And Muraki was such a good kisser too…

His fingers tightened around my shoulders and his smile only faded slightly. I could see his false eye shining from behind the longer wave of silver hair that cascaded articulately down over the right side of his perfectly sculptured face.

"Are you sure about that?" He asked, in a tone of voice that I had come to interpret as; 'You'd-better-do-as-I-say-or-else-I'm-gonna-go-and-instigate-a-few-mass-genocides'. I don't think anyone realizes just how tough it is to be the nice guy, being jerked around on the blackmailing strings toted by puppet master slash murderer Dr. Satan Kazutaka. Muraki.

Regrettably again, I almost felt relieved that Muraki could force me into obeying him, in a sense. It gave me an excuse, a reason to not feel as though I were the biggest dirt bag and a rotten Judas for doing this with the man who was responsible for… for Hisoka…

Was I only using Hisoka as an excuse? A reason not to act on my feelings?

Ignoring this thought as soon as it appeared, I heaved another very deep sigh and leaned forward, contrary to Muraki's grip. I felt his hands relax and slide around my body, wrapping me up as no one ever had before, as I had only ever seen other people being held and our entire bodies fell into complete and utter alignment, our mouths meeting softly, tongues broaching contact hesitantly. I knew then, that Muraki was completely aware of my internal struggles and my contrary thoughts to my words. It scared me more than anything. I could easily admit to desiring Muraki on a physical level but requiring him on an emotional level… that was a whole new dimension of betrayal.

It was hard to deny, inexperienced though I was, that the feeling of being in his arms and kissing him after one week of positively no intimacy with anyone else was worth so much. My depression, the remnants of my drunken state rose as we touched. I felt as though a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, as though a part of me was sighing in relief at the return of Muraki's presence.

It was a surreal, terrifying moment.

I had my arms around his neck my eyes were closed as I kissed him, my fingers delicately rubbing the longer strands off silver hair that trailed across the back of his neck, twirling them about my nails and admiring the soft texture. He smelt so good… and his body was so strong and warm… For some reason, I thought of sinking into him and disappearing though his body, to a safe, untouchable place where he would be on all sides of me.

Such intimate, disturbing thoughts… and I couldn't rid myself of them.

When the kiss ended, Muraki didn't laugh at me or say 'Told you so!' in a snide voice. He just smiled again. But this time, the smile was real.

"I missed you too," He said, running his fingernail over my reddened cheek and leaning down to press his lips against the lobe of my ear. "Darling."

**Unknown**

If anyone had cared to observe the skyline that evening, they might have noticed something rather peculiar…

"Whoa Tatchomu."

The eight-legged horse, its coat the velvety blue hue of the night sky, reared back slightly in response to the tight tugging on the metal bit against the soft sides of its mouth. White foam flecked outward from the rubbery lips, steam erupting from both its nostrils, chiseled hooves lapping delicately at the misty remains of clouds upon which he had been carrying his riders.

Bright yellow eyes, devoid of pupil, focused on the slumped figure of the second rider, splayed over the rump of the great steed.

"Whatever is the matter, Mara?" Thin lips twisted into a sympathetic grimace and long fingers reached back to stray through tussled blood red strands of hair. "Oh… my poor darling. Feeling a bit seedy, are we?"

The larger bodied male managed to straighten up, the transition slow and awkward, one hand still cupped over the pale, slightly green face.

"It's… it's that perfume of yours…" He grumbled, trying without much success to cover a sneeze with a cough. The red-haired creature scowled, the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers. "It stinks… Prince, is it really necessary?"

The one called Prince, the creature of feminine proportions, was busy applying makeup whilst staring into a small handheld mirror.

"Well, of course…" It said, as though the alternative of not applying the evidently foul smelling perfume was ludicrous. "The application enhances my powers. Hello! I wish to be at my most impressive tonight… What if I were to run into that one? I'd wanna put up a good show, right?" He added succinctly, winking over his shoulder at the pinched expression of his companion.

The red-haired passenger leant his torso forward, gazing over the great head of Tatchomu in order to take in the expanse of the lights of the city beneath them.

"So… The Ancient Capital… Blondie's home town…"

The rider smiled, an eager, devilish smirk as a bright sheen cast over its yellow pupil-less eyes.

"Yes."

"Guess I'll be heading to Tokyo then…" The other deduced, stretching his arms up so that the joints cracked roughly. "To where… he was born."

The slender 'Prince' cocked its head sidelong and regarded the redhead with a baiting smile. Its bleached blond hair drifted listlessly in the cool night breeze.

"Don't wimp out, Petal. I don't think Mitkiel will tolerate another disappointment."

"Balban's actions were rash… irresponsible…" The redheaded one commented, patting the side of the horse distractedly. "Pandora really wasn't left with much of a choice… But… still…"

"No point in mourning what's come and gone. What's done is done. Take what you can learn from it and move on." The Prince said uncaringly, making a sweeping gesture with its hand. "In any event, Pandora will not be interrupting again. We'll both have a good chance to settle the score tonight. Maybe learn a thing or two in the process. So… heed my words. No flaking, ne?" The creature smiled charmingly, pressing the tip of one finger against its lower eyelid, pulling it down and winking as it stuck its tongue out.

The red haired one appeared hurt. "You're the only thing that presently occupies my mind. How could I possibly concern myself with impertinent notions of my possible proximity with danger?"

Apathy was drawn across the slender creature's face as it run the sharp tip of black eyeliner along its lower eyelids.

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware, darl. 'You couldn't live without me,' and all that nonsense, blah, blah, blah…" It snapped the mirror shut dramatically, tucked it into the saddles pouch and then in a surprise move, leant back against the others chest, one hand cupping his chin, nails stroking the red-heads cheek. "My love… surely you are not doubting my abilities? …How insulting, to think the one that loves me would doubt my reputation." It actually laughed at the quavering look on its companions face. "How pathetic… I don't give you a reason to cry, so you'll seek one out just so you can find something to cry about."

"Whenever we are separated by our obligations, it is difficult not to cry," The red-haired one said, twining his arms about the slim waist of the rider and squeezing their bodies tightly together. "Of course I search for any and every reason to cry for you. You're my fiancée. Who else would I cry for? There is none other, in either Heaven nor Hell, nor Hades nor Earth…"

As though transcending from above, a great pair of blood stained wings appeared from the arches of the redheads' shoulder blades, arching down majestically in order to shield the slender entity within his hold. The blond shut its eyes, resting its head against the wall of its companions' chest.

"It's sweet that you can only live for me and for me alone, my darling." At this prompting, they shared a deep, closed mouth kiss, containing all the chaste innocence of virgins, though they were certainly not. "However…" Now, the Prince slapped away the hands that held it dear and pushed back the mighty wings in order to regain hold of Tatchomu's reigns. "… don't let that make a crybaby out of you." It winked teasingly and then tossed its hair haughtily, surveying the night that was laid out before them like a fey woman on her wedding night. "Oh… I am so looking forward to tonight. At last, the years of blood abstinence shall be repaid to me in full… What glorious anticipation… it makes me want to… stretch out and soak it all up like the rays of the sun we have long since been denied…"

The slim creature stretched its body out drastically, displaying confidently the wide part of skin bared from the hem of the crop top, down to the waist band of the tight mini-skirt, sanctioned around an arched waist. It crooned, feeling that which it had wanted; the hands of its fiancée, running treacherously down its body and ending on either side of its flat, well sculptured buttocks. A smile teased across its lips, a thin pink tongue caressing the very corner as still somewhat virginal lips pressed to the center of its back.

"There is nothing to fear, my Petal." It promised, one hand fisting in the tufts of Tatchomu's mane. "For I am the one that Hell itself fears. Those that fail to bow to me, are the foundation of my blade."

Below, Kyoto waited.

**Authors note:** Part 2 will be up as soon as it is betta-ed. Reviewer reviews will appear at the end of part 4, for those of you wondering where it is. Would still appreciate reviews for this part though... (Nervous sweatdrop) Have been working hard every night since exam finished to try and get this to you guys... Please reward me! Hope you enjoyed part 1 everyone!


	16. Cutthroat Eurynomous: Part 2

**Dark Adaptation**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Descendants of Darkness, Yami no Matseui, or the person who created it. I own very little of anything, I even borrow most of my rather explicit yaoi anime. (Sighs) Maybe I'll own something of my very own one day, but we won't hold or breath, eh?

**A/N: **This is Part 2 of Cutthroat Eurynomous. There are four parts in total, all normal chapter sized additions. Oh and a fair warning, there are some disturbing elements in this chapter, violence wise that is. I'm sure everyone would be able to handle it but it's better that you know now and spare me the trouble of hearing anyone's complaints later. With that being said I hope you all enjoy!

**XxXxXxXxXx**

"Ahhhh!" Ichibana sighed as he plonked himself down on the park wall and stretched his arms up over his head. "What a night! Man, I guess the rumors were true after all. Kyoto sure has some delicious auras! The people here are friendly… and the spirit energy is so high! This would be the place to retire if Hell wasn't top o' my list."

He chuckled happily to himself as he rested his hands on the wall, swinging his mostly bare legs casually to and fro. It was a warm night and the bars he had visited had been hopping. Everyone he had spoken to had been so down to earth and pleasant. Not that he particularly cared how people spoke to him. But light, cheerful atmospheres were always more conducive to accelerated aura refuse then any other emotion, besides lust, that is. All in all, the djinni felt thoroughly sated. Perhaps he would be able to endure his entrapment for a little longer at this rate and if Watari remained lenient with him, he would even let him keep his life after he freed Ichibana from his sentence. Which was quite a remarkable decision for a djinni to make. Most Underdwellers desired vengeance for their sustained imprisonment but Ichibana had found the blond scientist to be a more sympathetic master then most. Enough so that he was willing to let the last 14 years of humiliation slide… maybe.

The djinni chuckled to himself as a red blush sprouted on both his cheeks. "Man, I've spent WAY too long in this Skin() asylum. I'm startin' to get soft… To think, that that nerd doesn't have it comin' to 'im! Still… it would be an awful shame to kill him after all this time. … He's been like a little brother ta me. A pain in the ass but nonetheless… " He giggled again, this time his tone held a malevolent tinge. "Ah well… I'm sure I can think o' somethin' more original to punish him with other than death… That would be more befitting I think, for someone like as him…"

(Note: Skin is the word that djinni use to describe humans. Since djinni have no physical form. Ichibana only has a physical form because he stole it from an upper level demon and now resides inside of it. This is to keep his essence from wearing out whilst he is on earth, which is what happens when spiritual forms stay in this realm too long. This is why most demon's and angels hijack a body, so that they can move around without becoming strained. Generally, upper level demons and angels are capable of designing a body of their own, for use whilst within the Casual space. Okay, class adjourned!)

Ichibana ducked behind the wall for a moment and then reappeared seconds later, a butterscotch colored trenchcoat wrapped around his body. The flashy ensemble had been to lure humans in and now that he had satisfied himself for the evening, there really was no need to further forego comfort. He perched himself back atop the wall, legs spread out across the top and directed his attention toward the clear night sky. The stars were winking happily to one another; the three quarter moon monitored their flirtatious behavior with an approving smile. A light breeze blew…

It was a gorgeous night.

Ichibana smiled lightly as the wind tussled his hair to one side. A group of girls passed by, chattering excitedly to one another and occasionally stumbling over their own feet. Clearly drunk. They noticed Ichibana sitting there reclusively and called out to him, waving their arms in exaggerated excitement. The djinni smirked as he acknowledged their greeting with a wave of his own hand. He was glad however when they continued on their way, giggling happily to one another and occasionally glancing over their shoulders at his receding figure. The djinni had endured quite enough human companionship for the night. This time of reflection was his and his alone.

It's hard ta believe that bubble-brain could find love in a place like this, Ichibana thought, returning his eyes to the sky. He thought for a moment that he saw something racing across the few clouds that lingered before the stars view but dismissed it as nothing. Or at least nothing that required expending any energy over. I guess he thinks he truly loves him, the dork. After only a week… damn humans can be SO predictable. Poor guy's probably gonna get his heart broken… The djinni reached up to touch the clasp on the shell of his pointed ear. Whaddya reckon, Isaac? Am I bein' too narrow-minded as per usual? … Can't blame four-eyes for thinkin' all those mushy thoughts about the Samurai. He's certainly got a lot goin' for him. Though I can't help but suspect he's got somethin' up his sleeve. … No one's that nice. Not unless they want somethin'. And why would a guy like him be wastin' himself on the boss? Watari's cute and all and I suppose he's nice enough but he ain't great… I reckon he's wonderin' the exact same thing. 'What's Oriya doing messin' around with me?' Makes no sense. I think there's somethin' else goin' on, Isaac. Like he's up ta somethin'. He is a friend o' Muraki's after all and there just ain't no trustin' that guy. Or… am I jus' bein' paranoid?

Isaac had no answer. But then again, how could he? He had been dead for more than three hundred years. Ichibana sighed and lowered his head, understanding very well that the only answers to his questions would be provided in the passing of time. It was hard not to be anxious however. This case was so personal to Watari… He should never have been allowed to take it in the first place, no matter how obligated he felt. His presence was far too incriminating.

"I wonder if that guy Oriya knows how much Seki meant ta the scatterbrain?" The djinni mused, eyes once again trained on the sky. "He probably just thinks Watari's some weirdo who has tearies over every little death he comes inta contact with. If he had any idea… tha strength it took for 'im ta come back ta this place… Isaac… this wicked web has been wound around us all. I think we're well and truly trapped now and I can't shake the feelin that somethin' nasty is gonna-… hold the phone…"

For what had walked past Ichibana's perch at that very moment had been anything but nasty. It was a slender youth, moving with a cute, yet somehow sexy demeanor, hips swaying to and fro with the experience of a prostitute. Ichibana leapt off of the wall, surveying the youth intently.

"What a babe! She looks familiar somehow… like we've met before… Heh, well if THAT isn't the lamest pick up line."

The girl looked as though she were little older than thirteen or fourteen and was inappropriately sensuous if indeed so. Her legs were long and shapely, her feet bound in a pair of very high red open toed heels. Yet she walked with grace and poise, as though the formidable height that the shoes elevated her feet to, did not affect her balance at all. The long, tanned length of her legs disappeared at the very last minute, beneath the wall of a tight flesh colored mini-skirt, her thong straps protruding from the top and slung over curvy, well-defined hips. The only other piece of material she was wearing was a torn off crop top that hung off of one shoulder whilst lamely clinging to the other with sliding fingers. It was black with a big 03 on the front and ended beneath where a woman's breasts would normally sit. In this case the girl was either a very late bloomer or she wasn't likely to develop breasts at all. Her chest was completely flat.

Her hair was bleached white-blond with at least two inches of black re-growth creeping outwards from the part. It was cut short on one side, the strands brushed outwards in jagged edges over her tanned shoulder, whilst on the other side the hair was waist length and tied back in a low ponytail. The girl certainly stood out, even by Ichibana's standards. He stepped onto the path, watching her steady journey to the far side of the park.

"Hmm… it's awfully late for such a young thing ta be wanderin' around on the streets. There are perverts like me out and about after all. A gentleman should do the courteous thing and escort her home… too bad there ain't none 'round." He stretched uncaringly and yawned, seriously considering just letting the matter drop but something was tugging callously on the corners of his senses. His blood red eyes turned back towards the girl. "Somethin' about her… it's makin' my senses tingle. And not in the ways a pretty gal should… This is weird. I wonder where she's heading?"

Curiosity got the best of the djinni and knowing full well that it was indeed this factor that killed most four legged felines; Ichibana nabbed a hold of his ironic streak and ducked behind the wall, where he immediately transformed into a white Siamese cat. He emerged, arching his back and stretching all his claws out, one by one before bounding after the strangely dressed individual.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

It tried to make its way in through the back, but the Bouncers there were persistently unreceptive to the pretty face that implored them as a young girl might be expected to.

"I'm sorry but we can't let you in without any ID." They trotted out the same tired old excuse the idiots at the front entrance had. The Prince was tired of hearing it and felt rather in the mood for tearing their intestines out through their navels and presenting THAT as identification. But that would have drawn far too much attention. And ruined its attire at that.

"We have to be careful you know." The other Bouncer said reasonably. "We could lose our jobs if we let a kid come inside. The policy of Ra's Sunline is pretty strict and think of how upset your parents would be if something were to happen to you."

It had no parents. It had no reason to be afforded such pathetic concern from two humans nonetheless. It needed to get inside. Its' quarry was in there. The blond haired one of the Sixth division, the one that their beholden clung to even after death.

Yutaka Watari was in Ra's Sunline. It could sense him. It could sense him ever since he was born. It had been designated the task of sighting the blond one by Mitkiel and the feeling of Watari's presence was never absent from its' senses. Now, it was strong like the most pungent odor. For the very first time, it was so close… and for all intentions of performing its task discreetly, it could do nothing to bridge the gap. The inside of the club remained elusive, as did its' quarry.

"You guys are cruel… picking on a sweet little girl like me," the creature whimpered, clasping both hands before its body in a false expression of incorruptibility.

One of the Bouncers raised his eyebrow. "I'm not even sure if you are a girl to be perfectly honest…"

His fellow Bouncer looked horrified at this suggestion and the creature mimicked his reaction, whilst inside it secretly grinned at the humans' insight. It was turning out to be quite a fulfilling night in its own way.

"Hear now! You should know better than to speak that way!" The second Bouncer smiled gently and leant down, as though the personal proximity would make up for what he must have felt was a horrendous show of rudeness. "I'm very sorry, young lady, but I really can't let you come in. Why don't you head to that underage club just down the road? They don't serve alcohol but I think everyone there has a pretty good time regardless. Off you go now."

"Okay, okay, I'm going." The creature grunted, turning on its heel and marching off back down the alley. So far, all its tactics to gain entry to the club had been a total bust. If only it hadn't designed itself a body that appeared underage by human standards. Mara would have had no difficulty at all, penetrating the clubs defenses. But this wasn't Mara's task. It was the Prince's. So, regardless of the imposed, unavoidable difficulties, the creature did not have the benefit of backing down. It had to get to Watari somehow. It had to impose its lesson on the blond as Balban had done the lavender-eyed creature, Asato Tsuzuki and the soul-devouring witch, Kazutaka Muraki.

The answer came, in a far preferential package, delivered signed, stamped and sealed to the Prince's very doorstep. It came in the form of four men, late twenties at most, who came sauntering up to the front entrance of Ra's Sunline as the creature exited the alley from where the rear entrance was located. As soon as it appeared the four males fixated their drunken, sexually ignited attention on the Prince and made their way over. It watched their approach, unconcerned as to what their intentions were. It belonged to Mara. If they were to try anything that would leave their disgusting human stink behind, its' mate would see to it that they were punished accordingly.

"Well, aren't you a prized peach?"

What a hassle…

The Prince smiled cheerfully and raised its' hand.

"Good evening, boys."

The men leered as one. A collective snake like smile slithered across their lower faces, leaving a cruel malignant trail in its' wake.

"What a sweet little princess." The tallest, a man with messy blue-black hair, said, leaning forward and all but pressing his face against the creature's. It could smell heavy liquor on his breath. "You're a little younger than I prefer… still, bet you taste as sweet as a peach."

"You got a boyfriend?" One of his companions asked. He was smoking, the gray chemical remnants rising upward toward the night sky in a misshapen dance. The Prince's smile never faded.

"I cannot lie to appease you gentleman. I indeed have a partner. Rather a fiancée, whom loves me passionately. I don't suppose he would approve of your advances toward me, let alone were it to descend into… tasting."

The smoking one snickered. "Bummer. Still, not that I don't like a challenge."

"You're not wearing a ring." One of the other men contested. He grabbed the creature's hand roughly and jolted it up to reveal the bare stretch of its ring finger. The Prince continued to smile, even as its' arm was being painfully yanked out of joint. It would have been an insignificant expenditure of energy.

"No… our kind generally do not wear a ring on our finger as a sign of commitment." It said sweetly, making no move to retrieve its hand from the males clutches. The remaining man swigged from a bottle he was carrying before speaking.

"Your kind? Gaijin's?" He asked.

Its smile remained unmoving but as it raised its head, allowing them to clearly see its pupil-less yellow eyes, the effect was so powerful that one might have believed that the creature's lips split through its cheeks, giving it a fearsome, animalistic appearance.

"No. Demons." It avowed. And then it cast its spell, all the while smiling. From its' spare hand, raised and extended, fingers and thumb branched evenly apart, the Hypnotic Seed passed through its material body and spread out to encompass the senses of the four males before it. Having virtually no mana at its disposal, the Hypnotic Seed was the only spell the Prince could cast and it only possessed a quarter of the effect it would otherwise contain if cast by a demon with higher magical abilities. "I shouldn't concern myself with the dull witted intentions of you matted, tangled humans. However… so that you know for future reference, we demons wear a clasp upon the shell of our ears to show that we are betrothed to another." Freeing its hand from the constriction of the man who now stood frozen, his eyes glazed over, the Prince brushed back the hair from its right ear to reveal the long rectangular clasp stapled into the upper most ridge. "Let's see now… I wanted to get into this club but unfortunately, those mean old Bouncers won't let me pass through the doors."

The men wobbled a little unsteadily on their feet. The dark haired one rubbed his forehead, dazed from the weak influence spell that the creature had leveled against them.

"Well… I'm sorry babe, but there's not much we can do about it. Can't very well sneak you in under our coats now, can we?"

The Prince beamed up at him. "Oh, but that doesn't really matter to me. I wanted to go inside, so that I could speak with a friend of mine, but, unfortunately, he is beyond my reach. … Say…" At this under-veiled insinuation, the demon crept forward and pressed both hands to the foremost man's shoulders, tilting its face up so that its rosy lips were a bare inch from his. "Would you help me? I really want to see this friend of mine… If you'd do this favor for me, I'll make sure that you're all aptly rewarded… Perhaps I'll allow you all to sample the flesh of this peach…"

"O… Of course… we'd be glad to help." The dark haired one said, speaking for all of them. "What's your friend look like? You want us to bring him out here to see you?"

The Prince smirked, running its finger down the shirtfront of the man he was leaning against. Something flashed through its eyes, the smile never faltering for a second.

"He is a blond man, with long wavy hair. He wears round glasses. His eyes are the color of amber. And there is no need to bring him out here… the message is very simple. All I need is for you to drop this into his drink…" It slipped a small, indistinguishable capsule into the mans' palm, folding his rough, calloused fingers over it. "Bring him to the back alley. And after that, consider whatever desires you enact with him as your reward."

"That's the message you want to send to your friend?"

"It's a message from his past. He'll get the point."

**Tsuzuki**

"This place is not fit for you."

"Yeah, that's what I keep trying to tell my boss." I said, tilting back my mug and draining the last of the hot chocolate out of it. "He seems to think that because I have a tendency to snack whilst doing paper work and take the odd nap here and there, that it justifies dealing me out the teeniest pay check ever."

Muraki shook his head and took a sip of his tea. For some reason, the consumption of his drink seemed to require an exceptional amount of effort on his behalf.

"Utter rubbish." He said, referring of course to my miniscule pay and not to my tea. I should hope.

"Would you rub my feet?" I asked, plonking my heels down in his lap and flashing a large, toothy grin in his direction. We were sitting on the couch, watching the television whilst we drank our beverages. Well… at least I was watching. Muraki seemed to find the air above the television set to be more captivating than the screen itself. I figured he might as well have made a more productive use for his attention, if he was going to be collecting dust in my apartment.

Muraki frowned, set down his teacup and hesitantly poked my right foot. I wiggled my toes in response.

"Why on earth would I want to do a thing like that?" He asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Because…" I said, my voice dangerous. "I was kind enough to let you stay for a drink that I prepared. Because I let you sit on my couch. Because I let you kiss me. And because the heel of my foot is about two inches away from your groin and twould be a terrible pity if I were to bridge the gap and get them acquainted… Now rub, Mr. Fishcake! ( It's because of you that I'm so stressed out to begin with! The least you could do is relieve me of some of that tension!"

((**Note:** Fishcake is the threat Muraki used in the manga version of the King of Swords arc, in order to get Tsuzuki to comply with him. Fishcake is basically used in the same context as "Shark-bait" or "feeding the fishes.")

There was a silence as my toes wriggled and Muraki stared at them with an unchanging expression. Finally, he lowered his hands and at the same time, met my eyes with the powerful singular gaze of his own.

"You could make love with me." He said. I snorted hot chocolate out my nose.

"What has THAT got to do with rubbing my feet!" I exclaimed hysterically, trying to pull my legs back and yelping as Muraki's hand bypassed my feet completely and laced underneath my thigh, cupping the veiled flesh and trailing up towards the curve of my ass. I quickly brought my legs back down, squashing his hands against the sofa and effectively halting his progress. It didn't keep him from squeezing my thigh from beneath however.

"Making love is a perfect way to release tension." Muraki said, his eye wide as if to say 'DUH!' "And if it is indeed my fault that you are so tense, why then it is my responsibility to help ease you of that terrible strain!" He moved forward sinuously, traveling over my body with his eye half lidded and a dreamy slightly parted smile marring his features. His free hand came over my knee and dipped down across the thigh that held the other trapped. I pressed my lips tightly together and pulled my cup in taut against my chest, as though it were an effective shield that would keep him at bay.

Muraki knelt his forehead against mine and then, in an unusual move, began to nuzzle me like a cat, running his chin over my hairline, his nose across mine, and his lips over my eyes.

"When a rose is freed from its' tension, it unfurls and blooms, in order to express its passionate release. Hence, we can attribute it to such phrases as 'deflowering'. Regardless, it might be you, the tightly wound bud of a rose Mr. Tsuzuki, that my own eyes shall bear witness as you unfurl and blossom beneath me. Free of tension… free of anxiety…" His lips came very close to mine and I felt my heart speed up at the bittersweet proximity. "Would you like that? Shall I press apart your petals and open you up? Shall you reveal your complete form to me, until now secreted? Shall I make you bloom beneath me?"

All I could register at that moment was the oblique feeling of my nose threatening to bloom right out onto Muraki's very white shirt. I pressed the cup over face, tilting my upper body backwards until it was arched over the arm of the sofa.

"You idiot perve!" I yelled, kicking my legs wildly to discourage his touch. He somehow managed to hold on, even though I was jiggling around like a bad tempered bull at one of the Uwajima Sumo bullfights I had seen a few years back. "Why do you have to make all of those gross euphemisms between sex and roses? It's so creepy!"

"I happened to think it was rather romantically inclined myself." Muraki said, looking a little downtrodden. He shrugged and the continued to breach my last few millimeters of personal space. I yipped as he wrested his arms around me and tugged me into his chest, rubbing his face up against the side of mine as he grinned like an idiot. He was even making stupid mewing noises like a cat.

"Stop that!" I insisted but I got the feeling Muraki was beyond paying attention. Damn, he could behave so stupidly when he wanted to!

"Now don't you worry, Mr. Tsuzuki!" He assured me, his hands inching down my back. The guy wasn't under the impression that he was being subtle was he? If so, he was doing a very poor job of evading my attention. "I'll make you happy!"

"Just make me happy by rubbing my feet!" I whined, trying without much success to wriggle out of his grip. Dammit, one week apart and Muraki had gone even crazier than he was to begin with! And that was certainly saying something!

"We'll do this and then a little bit of that and then we should try that too and that one in particular would be nice and as for the Grand Finale… well… ah the variations…" The doctor mused, managing to keep me trapped in his grip whilst he gazed into thin air and contemplated the possibilities with his finger on his chin. I was glad that I wasn't privy to his thought bubble at that precise moment as I'm sure the contents would have warranted a censor bar in my own field of reception.

"We won't be doing anything like that!" I informed him and then, before I could lose my nerve, shoved him back and scooted across the couch, until I was able to curl up in a tight ball, knees up against my chest. I put the empty cup down on the floor, trusting it to be safe for the time being. "That's so like you Muraki… to think that sex is going to fix every problem, cure every ailment, eradicate any symptom of guilt that you've upended on me! You! A doctor! A doctor should know better, dammit!" I turned my face away, annoyed at his lack of clemency towards me, particularly in light of how he had treated me the previous week. Were we just going to return to our old games of cat and mouse and forget everything else? My heart felt heavy with the weight of my shame and anger.

I twitched and uttered a small gasp as I registered the back of Muraki's hand sliding across my cheek, the fingers curled in towards the palm, though the index relaxed and lightly stroked my skin, affectionately as one might rub behind a cats ear. An offensive, non-abrasive contact. A chuckle emanated from behind me.

"You're so cute, Mr. Tsuzuki." The doctor mused thoughtfully, as though this had been the first time he had noticed it. "However, I must admit that I feel rather cheated that it is you who would assume such an indignant air with me, what when I am more deserving of exhibiting it myself."

"How so?" I snorted, aware that my forehead was wrinkling like that of a cantankerous old man. Those lines don't go away you know, Tsuzuki!

Muraki smiled congenially. "Why, that would be because I have held up my end of the bargain. I have not fed on anyone since we made our promise, Mr. Tsuzuki. My mana has dilapidated as a result and I feel weak and sluggish many nights but it is the sacrifice I have made in return… in return for your resistance, your anger… I do believe that you are not effectively sharing the load, my love."

"Who's your love?" I snapped. I said I had a temper.

"My point exactly." He removed his hand from the proximity of my skin and rested back against the far arm of the sofa, fingers folded together regally and one leg crossed casually over the other. One might have now taken his position to suggest that he was critically analyzing a patient in his office, rather than attempting to seduce the mixed blood Guardian of Death. His smile was rancorously pleasant. "So then… I take it that you are not open to the concept of making love? Would I be correct?"

I relaxed somewhat and settled comfortably in my seat; reaching up to brush my intrusive bangs out of my eyes. My cheek was cold from where his skin was now absent.

"I'm not in the mood for love tonight."

Muraki tapped his fingers, glancing down as though there was some manner of inconsistency regarding his cuticles. It was truly a bizarre manner in which to conduct this particular conversation. I couldn't even mention sex or making love without blushing and here Muraki could beat up a million euphemisms and mix erotic metaphors with culinary simplicity.

"I see. … And there is no chance that you might give me the opportunity to persuade you otherwise? I am a professional you know."

I swallowed very heavily. "Um… no."

"Well then," He dropped his hand back down into his lap and met my eyes, his smile consistently charming, even though I understood very well that he had suffered a rather disappointing setback. "What is that we should do to occupy ourselves for the night then?"

I thought about this for a minute and then, without further ado, slapped my heels back down into his lap.

"You can rub my feet!"

He rubbed my feet. I won't deny it; he was amazing at it. I'd had a couple of serious boyfriends as a Guardian of Death but I'd never had anyone who would rub my feet or pamper me in such a sensuous, relaxing way. Muraki's doctors' degree went to great use as he sought out all the pressure points, the sweet spots, the small lumps of tension… I found myself spouting out something rather embarrassing at one stage; telling him that I was his forever and that he should take me now. My only excuse is that the curative sensations got the better of me. I quickly rectified my mistake the second I saw Muraki's victorious expression and he all but pounced on me, full of diligent praise and promises 'to be gentle.' He sulked for a good three minutes after I had refuted him. It didn't take long at all for relaxation to take over and I dozed off once or twice there against the arm of the sofa. It was the constant suspicions of what Muraki might have done to my prone unconscious body that kept snapping me awake at the last second.

We even made small talk. Muraki told me all about Saiki and the woman that he had treated for the brain aneurysm. I told him all about Watari and Oriya and questioned his part in the whole debacle. For some reason, this seemed to amuse him.

"What's so funny?" I had to ask as he chuckled softly from behind the cup of his fist. He unfolded his clenched fingers to alternatively wave them in my direction.

"Oh, it's nothing, Mr. Tsuzuki." He said, still smiling as he wrapped his hand firmly around the toes on my right foot and squeezing firmly. "I just felt Oriya could use some companionship of the romantic persuasion. He hasn't been with anyone for three years."

"I'm sure Watari can help sort through his tension." I said, knowing my friend a little too well.

Muraki smiled as he ran his thumb firmly down the center of my foot. "Indeed I was under the same impression myself. Rather an unlikely pair though, wouldn't you say?"

And that was all that was said. The topic shifted. We spoke of books, movies, little inconsequential things that nonetheless bridged substantial gaps and encouraged some sense of familial harmony between us. I was very surprised to find that I had adjusted rather comfortably in Muraki's presence and this only lead to my feeling pissed off again. Almost as though I was obligated to feel ornery with him in the same room.

An hour passed. Time ticked by but it didn't drag. I was content…

Content… content in the presence of such a cruel, sadistic man…

Oh… I'm bad aren't I? I'm so bad…

"There is something I must ask of you…" Muraki's voice was cool and temperate, how it usually came when he was discussing something serious. I was a little surprised at this sudden shift in tone temperature. We had been discussing whether or not Afros suited Japanese people, so it was a rather alarming transfusion to make.

"Oooh, that's a bit of an 'uh-oh' tone," I established, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt. My voice betrayed my anxiety however and trembled from layer to layer. Muraki smiled a little, obviously noticing and ran his hand along my lower leg in something of a soothing mechanism.

"There's no reason for you to fear what it is that I am going to ask of you. It simply pertains to my magical abilities," He explained gently. I could feel his fingernails through my pajama pants, scraping across the solid line of my skin. "It has been at least 3 months or so since I have fed on a human soul. Ordinarily, I would have converted this raw essence into mana, which would ably maintain and progress my abilities and enable me to effectively hold the Shukusatsu, or the Withering as it were, at bay. Up until now, there have been no major difficulties doing so. However, taking into consideration the events that transpired one week ago, I have been led me to believe that it may be in our best interests that I regain at least a marginal amount of essence, so that I might be able to protect you, if indeed the time calls for it."

I knew what he was suggesting and I sure as hell didn't like it. My lip curled up slightly and I desperately wanted to return to the silly, meaningless conversation about Afros. There was no evading this however and instead of running away, I had no alternative but to face it head on.

"I don't need your protection, Muraki." I stated firmly. His one visible eye narrowed.

"It would be my obligation, regardless of whether you think you need it or not." He axed down forcibly on the word think, to make sure that I was aware that he doubted the validity of my statement. "Do not forget that you are mine, Mr. Tsuzuki. I must be strong enough to make others that desire you, understand very well that I am a powerful, dangerous mate and that I do pose a threat to them, should they encroach upon you. I must be able to keep you safe from them."

There was that 'you're mine' stuff again. I truly think that Muraki had me mistaken for another one of his dolls. I tried not to think of the time that Tatsumi had sold me to him for 5000 0000 yen. () Maybe that's why he thought that he owned me? If that was the case, then half of the Ministry owned me. Tatsumi had made a profitable enterprise, selling me off to people for ridiculous sums of dough.

(**Note: **Featured in the Drama CD: Summer Vacation. Yeah! Gotta love Tatsumi! His loyalty astounds me.)

"What do you suggest then? I don't begrudge you wanting to protect your own hide… or mine for that matter. But not at the expense of someone living!"

He chuckled mysteriously and placed his fingers on the curve of my chin. I didn't like the intent way he was staring at me but this was Muraki however and I was so used to feeling like that around him that I barely gave it a second thought.

"Why… the act of energy consumption, does not necessarily entail the devouring of souls entirely," He said, brushing his white fingernails across my flesh. I trembled slightly at this preliminary touch. "I can also absorb essence from those that are already dead… Guardians for example… I could use them say, almost as one might use a battery."

I knew what was coming next. "You want to use me?"

He smiled, teeth showing slightly. "Not slow tonight are you? Indeed Mr. Tsuzuki. I was wondering if perhaps I might borrow some of your energy… A little at each meeting, should be more than adequate to keep my powers aptly regenerated. And essence of the Guardian's soul is guaranteed to rejuvenate, so there is very little to fear."

"Easy for you to say…" I mumbled, running my finger down along the creases in his palm, trailing the nail around in a slight circle as I thought his request over. All up, I could see the benefits of allowing him to 'feed' off of me. There would certainly be no need for killing if I were to provide him with the one requisite. Still… something about the whole affair didn't sit right with me. "How would you go about getting it?"

"There are a number of ways," Muraki stated, sliding along the couch so that now my knees were hooked over his lap and his hands were resting on the bent curve of my legs. "Some are more… erotic than others… some more satisfying… some more painful… The most obvious method is through touch, as simple as we are now. However, there are many constrictions that mar the process and unless the need is strong enough, there are likely to be complications. Through the mouth is better… though I must admit, the most effective process is through exchanging bodily fluids."

"Bodily… fluids…?"

"It's how most diseases are spread." The doctor explained, shrugging his shoulders differentially. "And it is through the fluids of the body in which the particular signature of the individual essence is carried. Those fluids that supplement life force such as blood and semen. The best way of doing this would be for your fluids to pass into me."

"Ah…" I said, feeling my cheeks going all hot and red. Dammit, could I be any more like a pubescent kid? "Meaning that I would either have to… uh…"

"Penetrate me, ejaculate into my mouth or allow me to partake of your blood." He all but cheered, stretching up in order to angle his body across mine. I felt his shadow pass over me and I shied back, finding my legs trapped by the strong, unyielding force of his arms again. His grin widened only further as I sat up, pulling away and turning my back on him. My brain was whirring far too rapidly to allow the clearest semblance of comprehensible consideration. "Since you have no desire for 'love' as you so eloquently put it, my darling, I believe the simplest choice would be to allow me permission to imbibe your vitae. Mr. Tsuzuki… doesn't the thought excite you?" I felt the sofa shift beneath Muraki's weight as he sidled up behind me, lacing his long legs around my waist and pinning either side securely between his thighs. I pulled a face, not at the contact but at what he was suggesting.

"You may be surprised to realize this, Muraki but unlike you I don't get turned on over blood and gore. Nor the thought of someone nipping at my neck like a vampire, thankyou very much."

Muraki grinned and trained his hands down across my chest, darting around the formation of my muscles beneath the wall of my sleeping t-shirt.

"I had no intention of taking the blood from your neck," He informed me sinuously and just when I thought the dynamics of our situation could not possibly become any creepier, his hands dipped between my thighs and trapped my hidden penis. "There is a juicy vein in your groin which I do believe will sate me in many more ways than one, my love…"

"Muraki!" I hissed and my sentence ruptured into a moan as he brought his face down over my right shoulder and kissed the shell of my ear, running his tongue along the ridge. His fingers didn't move to stimulate my groin but rather the pressure tightened atop my cock, forcing heated breaths out of the depths of my throat. It seemed he could persuade me after all.

"I think that you missed me more than you let on, Mr. Tsuzuki." His face passed from my right shoulder, to my left and his voice became a hushed susurration. "Were the nights long and cold… with only the memory of my touch to keep you company? There's no denying…." His voice lowered even further as one of his hands abandoned its post in order to conduct reconnaissance underneath the wall of my t-shirt, fingers rubbing erotically across the flesh veiled beneath. I bit my lip to keep from embarrassing myself. "- that these fingers certainly missed you."

"Stop it…" I begged, not really sure if I meant it. Muraki laughed sadistically, sensing my internal battle.

"I cannot do that, Mr. Tsuzuki." He told me, as his fingers continued to circle warm insinuations across my stomach. My bottom lip was trembling and there were strangled, unfamiliar noises breaching outward from my tight throat. "It has been one long week since the last moment I was able to touch you… if absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder, then is it any wonder that my heart throbs so overwhelmingly for you?" He kissed the side of my neck; freeing the hand that had been on my stomach and lifting it up to gently tug the lobe of my ear. I felt a mounting pleasure sift through my senses at this simple but provocative touch. "Are you aware, Mr. Tsuzuki… that stimulation of the pressure points in the ear are conducive to inducing sexual drive?"

I groaned. It couldn't be helped; the feeling was altogether too good for there to be any need to articulate myself. Even if it did make me weak, I wanted to release that stem of excitement fluxing through me and express it.

"Muraki… oh…" My mouth dropped, eyes shut and head tilting back as the fingers still residing on my groin tufted innocently across the thin material outlining my roused flesh. I was starting to wish that I had worn boxers beneath my pajama pants. I felt as exposed as a woman might have whilst wearing a white t-shirt with no bra underneath. Muraki's fingers fell away from my ear, only to replace them with his plush, wet lips. His breath was hot against my skin, so hot it resembled steam that could bead my sweat upon my flesh as it rose from the pores.

"I don't want this…"

"Don't lie," Muraki hissed seductively, using the strength of his thighs to push my own together, trapping his hand firmly between them. The pressure on my groin escalated and a sobbed whimper leaked out through the part of my lips. "Why don't you just admit it? Admit that you want me and be done with it. Cast aside that infernal constraint and let me come into you with all that I have!"

His voice was so passionate, so enticing… I badly desired to surrender to him but there were so many other emotions at play. Feelings that were perhaps more powerful than the temporary intoxicating lust that twisted my senses ruthlessly. I opened my mouth, not knowing what would faint through my lips and all that emerged was the first in a series of rhythmic pants as Muraki's hand slid back underneath my shirt and started to massage my abdominals and chest in patient, alluring succession.

"I… I-I-I-I-I-I c-can't… ngh!" In response to my decline, Muraki had snapped my left nipple between his sharp nails and pinched it not at all gently. I bit my lip, feeling tears of dualistic pain and pleasure seep up from the corners of my eyes as he inflicted the second brand of punishment upon me, piercing the lobe of my ear with his teeth. Warm blood dribbled down from the puncture marks and I felt his tongue slowly lap it up, teeth grinding back into place within my skin. "Please… don't… don't be cruel… ah!"

He released my ear, setting his chin across my shoulder and tightening the muscles in his thighs so that they clenched evocatively against the outsides of my own.

"I want you…" He whispered. My blood pressure skyrocketed. "I need you now, more than ever… the taste of your flesh lingers on my skin. The energy of your soul beckons to me… and I am enticed by it. I wish to partake of you in those acts most sensual." He moved his mouth back to my opposite ear and kissed behind the shell, his voice lowering even further. It was becoming difficult to make out what he was saying. His tone was so soft… and the blood was pounding through my temples. "Would that not puncture the tension… to have my desire pierce you through, having your bud open to me in full bloom…? You can have that, Mr. Tsuzuki. There will be no guilt in taking pleasure from my body… I can make it completely painless… Soft… warm… yet hard and ferocious… I can make you writhe beneath me like a helpless doll, hypnotized by pleasure…" His long white nails trailed across my cheek and then I felt his lips there, pressing against the skin in such chaste enticement. My entire body started to tremble as it only ever would when I had succumbed to a fever. Muraki's words… no words spoken by another had ever made me feel so… divided. "Darling… have me…" And at those words, his hand came down, separated my thighs and then both sets of fingers were squeezing around my clothed penis, lifting it, rubbing through the material, touching, inviting, tempting, sending nearly every spare inch of blood to that very place, which was now becoming painfully hard in his fingers… as hard as my inability to dissuade his touch… I wanted to lie down on the couch, crank my legs apart and get him inside of me as hard and as fast as I'd ever read of it happening in books. I wanted to feel that pounding heat inside… inside, where I hardly felt anything anymore…

"I… I can't!" I all but screamed, disturbed and disgusted by my thoughts. I tried to get up, out of his hold but Muraki grabbed me by the wrist, his fingers cutting into the ridged bone like manacles. I was apparently going nowhere. "What are you doing? Let go of me!"

I turned back around to tell him off but was shocked into silence by the ferocious expression on his face, a look that I had not seen at an altogether frequent occurrence. And for the first time that evening, I was in fear for my safety. Muraki looked utterly primal.

"My patience is starting to wear very thin, Mr. Tsuzuki." He said, talking mostly through his tightly bound teeth. "My soul for the most part has not been sated and it is your energy that feeds me at the expense of the souls I would once devour. How dare you rescind on our vow! That is unacceptable! If you do not desire the responsibility of an additional stain upon your hands, then you will admit to it! Submit to me!"

His voice had dropped to the degree that it resembled something of a demonic baritone. I was so frightened of him at that moment, such as I had never been before. Possibly because I had never been closer myself, to doing as he instructed.

"I can't do it!" I sobbed, tears trailing woeful ignominy down my face. "Please… there'll be no turning back. I can't go back! You'll have stained me beyond repair! I'll go with that forever!"

His fingers tightened around my wrist until I thought the bone might shatter like glass. His eyes cut into me, their intensity shining, as would the blades of silver scissors.

"Is that boy stained in your eyes?"

I couldn't believe that he dared believe himself permeable of the audacity to mention Hisoka! My fingers curled upwards into a tight fist that erupted angrily from the claw like vice of his own.

"Stop it!" I warned, voice wavering. "Don't you dare bring Hisoka into this!"

But Muraki did not stop. Like an Exorcist who had observed that the use of a repeated mantra would take effect on the possessed victim, he continued to allude to that horrendous night when he had broken my partner… my innocent partner, who was still nothing but a child.

"Is he stained?" The doctor hissed mercilessly, his tone indifferent. "In the eyes of you, the one who loves him, is that boy stained? Would you be any different?"

"STOP IT!" I screamed, but it was no longer a command. I was begging for mercy. For him to relinquish his punishment upon me.

He continued, having not flayed me effectually. "One whom is stained is beyond my power to bleach! Any stain I could bestow upon you would only blend and never fade. Though you would seek eternal sanctity from the sins of which you are most guilty, Mr. Tsuzuki, there is not enough room in this Universe for you to run, to escape from what you have done. There is no place you can hide, where you will be secreted from their echoing cries for mercy. In this world and the next, you shall forever be haunted. Are you so… purposefully delusional, that you honestly believe my touch would stain you? Don't make me laugh! You are already more stained than I could ever hope to be! Where would my mark be visible on such damned, cursed flesh? You tell me that? If you truly believe in your innocence, if you can honestly say that you are a better person than I, then by all rights, how is it possible that my skin can touch yours? Don't you see?" He smiled evilly and lifted my fist, shaking my fingers out so that they drooped like fruit laden branches. "There's sin on these fingers too."

I couldn't take it any more. The pain of the physical humiliation I would be forced to submit to was inconsequential to the jarring agony of my soul. I squeezed my eyes shut, the sound erupting from the depths of my lungs like a death rattle.

"ENOUGH!" I roared and then, as though spurned into action by the eruption of a bullet from gun, I turned back around to face him, threw myself into his lap, legs around his waist and arms around his neck. His expression was that of bewilderment for barely two seconds and then I could make out nothing further of it, because my eyes were once again shut and I was kissing him with everything I had, sobbing the whole while. I felt his lips bifurcate into a smile beneath mine as he opened up to me and I responded, knowing what he wanted and fed my tongue into him, shivering as he liberally sucked on the hot wet muscle, running the tip of his own beneath mine, across the tiny indent that branched down the middle. He tasted good, of the tea I had served and of something deeper… cigarettes… not so good… but mint as well. Perhaps he had eaten some kind of breath mint recently. Whatever the case, the cool aftertaste still lingered, so strong that I wouldn't have been surprised if it refreshed my own breath. Muraki made a sound like; 'Hrrmmmm,' under our kiss; soft, silky and seductive, his hands running up my back and holding me gently to him. We eventually parted and I rested my head into the crook of his shoulder, drying my eyes on the material of his shirt.

"You're right… I am stained… and… I do want you…" I admitted, hating my stupid weak self even more at this divulgence. "But… I can't do this…"

Muraki stroked fistfuls of my damp hair, his temple pressed up against my own. He could probably feel the blood pounding through me. I wanted to hurt him… tear him apart with my bare hands and soccer punch him around the room until he had some inkling of the pain he had divested upon both Hisoka and I, to name only two of many. But that desire was a dim influence, which barely prodded at the outskirts of my mind from time to time but was unable to leap the dividing line and dominate my conscious physical efforts, currently dominated by brazen, idiotic hormones.

"I think you'll find that you can, Mr. Tsuzuki." Muraki said in response to my earlier words. "You would have done so last week, had I not put an end to the proceedings."

My bare feet were hanging off of the side of the couch, dangling beside the white clothed towers of his long legs. I'd never come this close to him of my own free will before; specifically, I had never instigated the contact. Up until that point, it had been Muraki jumping me wherever and whenever he felt like it. I couldn't help but feel that he had cheated me into my current position, which quite frankly was starting to embarrass me. My body started to tremble and tears quenched the dryness of my eyes once more, spilling out over my lower line of lashes in order to grace my cheeks with an undeserved baptismal. I lifted my face from Muraki's shoulder, resisting the urge to bury it straight back into the alluring white fabric and sob my heart out. I couldn't believe what a traitor I had become. To my friends… to everything that was good and decent… to those victims of Muraki now free from pain but at the cost of their own lives. God I hated him… but I was starting to hate myself more for the sudden realization that my hate was equally measured out by my want for him.

I had missed him that week he was away. When in his presence I was calm and when without him there, my physical, mental, emotional stamina suffered. I experienced painful prolonged withdrawals, almost like I was in mourning. That, I knew then, was the true reason that I had been drinking so much those last couple of days. I was attempting to cope with his absence. Now here, holding him to me, I desired not one drop of alcohol, even though my psyche was submerged in guilt.

From end to end, I was being torn apart. Torn apart as my eternal punishment. Muraki had been sent to me; I don't doubt that anymore. He had been sent to make me suffer for what I inflicted upon those villagers, almost one century ago…

"I'm so pathetic…" I choked; reaching up with one shaking hand to brush away those demonic tears I had no right to shed. "I hate myself… I hate myself so goddamn much!"

Muraki issued a clucking sound from between his teeth.

"Now now, there is no reason to put that on yourself. Here, dry your eyes." Displaying the exemplary knack for being equipped for any situation at hand, Muraki whipped a white handkerchief out of his pocket like a magician showing off a trick and handed it to me. I liked that he didn't try to wipe my tears away for me, thinking that I might have thrown up from the soppy sentimentalism of it all. I accepted it gratefully and set to work cleaning up my face, rounding up my performance with a nose honk that would have rivaled an approaching ship to port. Muraki attempted to remain serious but I saw the corner of his mouth smirk as I went to hand back the now slightly damp handkerchief. He merely plucked it from my fingers as though it contained the potential for bubonic plague and deposited it on my coffee table.

"For having the desire of any normal man…" He said, almost as an afterthought. "You are not deserving of such self-loathing. Don't be so hard on yourself." He lifted his face and ruined the illusion of such unexpected chivalry by leering at me in a most inappropriate way. "Leave that to me…"

I felt my cheeks stain with heat. "You pervert…" My insult branched off into a high pitched (really rather girly) yelp as Muraki sensuously placed his fingers on the inner most curves of my butt, pinching the flesh slightly. This inconsequential touch made my whole body stir with wanton heat and desire. "M-Muraki… ah…"

His breath was hot beside my ear, though his voice was a temperate, exhilarating whisper. "Why don't you just admit that you enjoy it, hmm? What man could deny that he does not take pleasure in being desired sexually?"

He was like a dog at a bone; he just kept wearing away at it, refusing to let it go until there wasn't a scrap of meat left. All Muraki had in mind that night was the possibility of sex. Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. It still came to me as a nasty surprise that despite his, really rather nice, advancements on my body, I wasn't thinking about sex at all.

… Okay… perhaps subconsciously… in the back of my mind. But not to the degree that Muraki so clearly entertained it. My thoughts were severed through cleanly by the svelte movements of his fingers against my buttocks, sliding away and then moving back in towards the clavicle. The result was that he was pushing my pajama pants down the crack of my butt, giving me a wedgie. It really wasn't the sexiest moment we'd ever had, despite how good his ministrations felt.

"Uh… oh!" A little high pitched gasp jumped out of me and danced around erratically before I had the chance to promptly grind the little bastard between my teeth. I was losing control very quickly and very, very easily. I was basically handing it over to Muraki tied up in a big fat campy bow. "W-wouldn't that t-t-take some of the… thrill out of it… for you?"

Muraki laughed softly and darted his mouth up to smack against mine, trysting my lips between his own and then coming back for a second taste. Our noses continued to touch, even after our mouths parted. His single eye was clouded with something that looked suspiciously like… success? I couldn't say triumph because such an aspect was too extreme to describe this emotion. It was like a lazy acknowledgement. Casual acceptance. As though he had been expecting me to submit. Oh God how I wanted to prove him so very wrong right then. All I can blame it on is the weakness of the flesh. Stupid, weak flesh. Stupid, weak Tsuzuki!

"You know me better than you think you do," He said, rubbing his thumb in a broad circle over my right ass cheek. I really wished I had worn boxers underneath my pajama pants now, because they weren't doing a very good job on their own of hiding my current… em… approval of Muraki's actions. "However, I believe that the satisfaction of finally sheathing myself within your body, is more than enough to compensate for the bereavement of challenge. Wouldn't you say?"

I was sick of my face turning red. Maybe it should have just stayed that way, if it enjoyed being hot and sweaty and crimson so much. I bared my teeth fiercely, hands running up and down Muraki's upper arms. His biceps were quite firm and prominent, reminding me for some reason of smooth melted treacle, spread over a delicious honeycomb crunch… Oh wonderful, now I wanted to eat his arms.

"You- You…" I tried to think of something insulting to say but nothing came. Nothing, except a loud, aroused moan as Muraki clenched my ass hard, pushing our bodies together. Oh no… Oh no, oh no, oh no, he had an erection… and mine was pressed against his… I slumped against him, fingernails digging into his shirtsleeves as a pure shock of euphoria skewered up through the center of my senses and tore into the fissures of my brain. Muraki made only the smallest sound to vocalize his pleasure, a deep, throaty purr. He ran his hands up my back, onto my neck and then into the depths of my damp hair, bringing our lips together. Our tongues rolled as one, mouths open even as we made contact, licking, tasting and sucking on each and every little sensation that either had to offer. My fingers tightened on his arms and I felt the burgeoning desire to put my own around his neck but I resisted, not wanting to make the moment any more intimate than I could help it. Muraki suddenly released my mouth, causing me to dribble down my chin in a really sexy manner. I mopped it up with the back of my hand as he gazed intently into my eyes, his fingers massaging my scalp like one might lavish attention upon a cat. He smirked at the shine of saliva across my chin but was refined enough to overlook it.

"Oh Mr. Tsuzuki… you haven't the vaguest conception as to what a remarkable creature you are. How fascinating you are to me."

I 'hated' to contradict him here, but I believe I had a fine understanding of how 'fascinated' he was with me.

He continued on, his free hand coming to rest on my upper thigh. "You're the mortal origami; able to fold and change, fold and change, to transition from one stage to another, in order to fit any situation or person. But ultimately… underneath the complexity of the folds and creases, whatever you turn it into origami is fundamentally nothing more than a plain white piece of paper. Dei sum id quod sum."

It was hard to pretend to find what he was saying interesting at the best of times; and this wasn't taking into account the movement of his freewheeling hand, which had now launched itself from my thigh and was having a jolly old time alternating its attentions between my face, back, thighs, waist and in particular, my buttocks. As a result, most of what he said to me went in one ear and out the other. What usually happens when educated people try to smarten me up. When will they ever learn that they are preaching to the converted?

"Hrm?" Was all I could manage. My head was tilted back, eyes closed and body stretched upward tightly like a Jack-in-the-Box that had just erupted and couldn't find any justifiable reason to be forced back down within the confines of its' box.

Muraki fortunately, was always happy enough to explain, even if I was less than happy to listen.

"Dei sum id quod sum. A saying. Latin. It means; 'By the grace of God, I am what I am.'"

How delightfully symbolic. It made me feel bitter if anything.  
"God made me this way… only to abandon me." I huffed, trying not to think of the appropriate simile Saagatanusu enforced to confine me within the alternate world prison.

'The Black sheep… the poor Lamb… who was forsaken by God…'

If I was what I was by his hand, then where did he get off throwing me to the wolves? The injustice of it all made me want to scream and wrench my hair out by the roots.

Muraki noticed my turmoil and placed a kiss into the hallow of my neck, so soft it was like butterfly wings fluttering against my skin.

"You are what you are, Mr. Tsuzuki. I am what I am. There's no changing the design of fate, my darling. Granted some designs of origami are more complex than others and it may take longer to fold back the creases, but eventually someone is going to see us revealed for what we truly are. When we haven't folded ourselves to fit someone's interest or amusement, or hence when it is appropriate." He smiled and lowered his lips to touch against the bare hint of my chest that was showing from the collar of my pajama shirt. "Asato Tsuzuki… a demon with mortal empathy, passion to acquaint himself with human beings. And yet, this guise has also the fold of the celestial angel. Beautiful… hauntingly beautiful… complex… and bewitching. You have no idea what a rarity it is for a creature with your tainted blood to sympathize with inner mortal turmoil, without in turn desiring the essence of mortal energy. How your soul must struggle…"

I gasped softly as Muraki started to suck on my neck, his teeth grazing lightly against my pulse and the tiny veins that passed blood back and forth, unaware of the lurking danger just beyond the shield of flesh.

"There's no struggle…" I gasped, knowing as soon as I said it how au contraire the statement sounded. "What I'm doing with you-"

"-is not wrong." Muraki finished for me, though I don't think that was how I had originally intended to close that sentence. "It is instinctive of human, of demonic, of even angelic nature. The half of you that you are starving in your haste to punish yourself. This guilt you have for desiring to submit to me. It feels wrong to the part of you that is mortal, the part of you that values loyalty to your friends. But that monstrous half of you requires human essence, as does mine. It wants blood… energy…" He started to punctuate each word with a kiss, moving up my neck and tilting my body towards a higher level of reprehensible pleasure. "… domination and surrender… sadism… masochism… pleasure, pain… It has taken unbelievable restraint to reign in those desires when you have denied that part of yourself for so long."

"It's not that simple," I insisted, my nails digging so tightly into Muraki's arms that I may very well have pierced the skin beneath the wall of his shirt sleeves. "I'm not like you."

Rather than appear offended by this, Muraki in turn looked positively delighted. He smiled with pure sincerity and leant up to kiss the underside of my chin, eliciting another little cry from me.

"And is that not the most wonderful thing?"

I was panting, barely recognizing the words that spouted from my lips. Wanting to say anything that was conducive to sustaining this physical, never before experienced pleasure. I wonder if Muraki could tell that I didn't know much? Almost a century old and still a virgin… it was kind of sad. I'm not sure why I hadn't yet done it. I'd certainly had enough chances but I'd always refrained, finding pleasure in other facets such as eating or drinking. Little things that were substantial enough.

Sure I could have had sex just to have had it. But that wasn't why I had waited so long. I wanted to have sex that I could really enjoy. It seemed a darn right shame to have blown it after so long on some ineffectual little squirmish, just so I could have experienced physical passion. I never really minded my lack of personal knowledge, until I got to moments like this. Then, my mind was filled with hundreds of concerns. Can he tell I don't know much? Does he like what I'm doing, or is that expression bad? Am I just embarrassing myself? Oh no, he thinks my butt's too big. You know, those sorts of things. I'm sure anyone could understand and sympathize.

"I've… I've wanted you so badly…" I conceded, leaning into the kisses that were being littered across my neck. Oh Muraki was way too good at this… what a fucking showoff. "… but I haven't been able to admit it to myself. Are you saying that I should let you have me!" Tears started to well up in my eyes as I thought of how my virginity would be wasted, letting the man who had raped my partner come into me. The same organ that had torn and broken and bloodied that innocent child, would be used to make me writhe and to give me personal gratification. I was… scum! I was sick if I let something like that happen and I knew deep down in my heart that I was going to! "Should I just accept this… this monstrosity that's inside of me! Just thinking about it… it's so shameful and disgusting I want to cut my wrist down to the bone again. Even then…" My sobs started to break through. "Even then I don't think that would be punishment enough… I should have been in Hell by now, if all I was going to do was go running into your arms! There's no difference between the burning abyss and being bound by you. Either way, I'm in chains. Just like the Devil waiting for Judgment day when God will decide just how he's doing to deal with him… the Evil one… I'm the evil one aren't I? Oh God… I tried… I tried so hard but I'm never going to be able to resist sin…"

"You have the benefit of not needing to hold it together in front of me." Muraki's expression was positively stunned as he touched my cheek gently with the tips of his fingers. "How… beautiful… how truly blessed am I that it is before me that you would chose to divulge such heartbreak, such torment, the very emotions that rend your mind and soul asunder! You are divine, Mr. Tsuzuki… but… when will you understand that the demon's lust is not an evil thing? Hmm? I'm not sure for how long you have been fighting the demonic side of yourself, but you truly need to bring down this barricade you have erected against it. You must accept that that side is a part of you, not a terrible enemy you must affront and restrain with all your will. The sooner you embrace that, the sooner you accept it, you will learn to be at peace with what you are."

"I wish it were that simple." I said quietly, grimly. And for a while, there was blessed, refreshing silence. It washed over me, as soothing as that first drink after a long and humid day. But it was a silence doomed to fracture terminally, as the heat from our bodies would allow us no refuge. Muraki's hands clasped me tightly around the waist, his thumbs pressing down hard against my flagrant hipbones. I heard his lips part wetly beside my ear.

"Now would be a good time."

"For what?" I asked, oblivious as always. My body was doing far too grand a job of distracting me.

His lips quirked upwards, tongue sneaking out to lash across the luscious curves. I found myself succumbing to the temptation to kiss him once again and it was a blue-fire boiling up within me, a cold want, rather than crimson heat.

"Let me feed from you." He whispered, placing his long nails possessively against my chin and tracing a line around the slope. My heart thumped at the impending transfusion.

"Yeah… I guess… guess we should get it over and done with."

Muraki chuckled softly and rose to his feet, supporting me with one arm around my shoulders, the other sanctioned beneath my buttocks, the way that one might hold a child. Trembling, I wrapped my arms securely around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder, consciously tightening my thighs around his waist so that I wouldn't slide free. I needn't have concerned myself so. He supported me as easily as he would an infant.

Or a doll.

"The bedroom… is it that door on the left down the hallway?" Muraki asked, gesturing with his head. I nodded against his shoulder.

"Is there any particular reason why you want to do it in there?" I wondered, even as he began carrying me towards our destination. I bit my lip as he predictably patted me on the butt.

"It is easiest if you were lying on your back on a flat surface. However, the floor might be somewhat uncomfortable, therefore your bed would be the next best option."

I chuckled nervously, thinking of the state that my room was in. There was junk strewn everywhere and my bed was unmade, the sheets twisted around each other in a corkscrew as a result of my haste to extricate myself from them that morning. There were Cinnapon boxes all over the place. Overall, it didn't exactly speak positive volumes about the man who resided within the room.

Muraki balanced me carefully as he freed one hand to swing open the door. He studied the room for at least three seconds and then bravely steeled himself and entered, kicking a pastry box out of the way as he went. Of course he wouldn't spend a great deal of time critiquing my room, considering just what we were there to do.

Not bothering to release me, Muraki grabbed a fistful of the sheets and tugged them harshly off of the bed, tossing them disdainfully onto the floor as though they were nothing more than a dirty handkerchief. After dusting a few crumbs off of the bottom sheet, Muraki gently lay me down upon the mattress, as delicately as he might a baby. It was so dark in the room and the three quarter moon outside didn't throw much light in through the unshaded windows but I could still follow the doctors' sleek, elegant movements around the bed. He made his way to the side closest the window and I watched him anxiously as he removed his tie completely and set it on the bedside table, beside a framed photograph of the Summons Sections employees on our last staff vacation. I personally couldn't make it out in the dark but Muraki seemed to know exactly who was staring out at us from the picture and he tactfully – or vindictively perhaps – placed the photograph face down on the dresser.

"I don't believe we need them watching us." He stated and I could detect the definitive edge in his voice. I felt that I should speak up in defense of his attitude towards those I cared for but found I could articulate nothing the second it came to my attention that Muraki was not stopping with his tie. His shadowed visage outlined by dim moonlight, I watched as his veiled fingers slowly moved down his chest, sliding buttons free from where they were snagged, untucking his shirt from his pants so that the last few could be easily accessed. When they were all released, his cufflinks placed aside, Muraki hooked his fingers around the upper most halves and separated them, drawing the gray material off of his white, ashen shoulders, allowing it to slip down the wide slope of his back and then pulling it free, distributing it amongst the various entanglement of my own clothes that adorned the far corner.

"W-why are you getting undressed?" I wondered, drawing a breath in tightly as Muraki knelt one leg up atop the bed, snapping free the buckle on his belt and then whipping it out of the loops on his pants. I waited for him to throw it aside as he had done with his shirt but he held onto it.

He smiled at me gently; the smallest of smiles intended to lull me into a false sense of security. I couldn't have been any more on edge if I tried.

"I'll be taking your blood," He reminded me, reaching out with the hand that did not hold the belt and wrapping it around one of my wrists. He brought it up to rest on the mattress above my head then released it. I didn't bring it back down, since he was not forcing me to remain in such a position and it was somewhat arousing, to be gazed upon with my body stretched tightly. "Do you think I would risk getting my clothing dirty if I can help it? You may or may not realize this, but bloodstains are quite the hassle to remove from white material. Often I have to completely restock my wardrobe. And this… this will be the first contact I have had with blood in quite some time… I may not be able to refine my appetite, my dear Mr. Tsuzuki."

"Muraki…" I hissed as he brought my other hand up and set it down firmly beside the one already in position. He placed a long finger against my lips, discouraging my fear. I found it hard to keep my eyes away from his chest. For a doctor, he did indeed possess a most becoming body. Muscles sheathed in vanilla skin that shifted languidly with every movement of his arms and shoulders.

"Shhh… just relax…" He urged, taking his glasses off and placing them on the cabinet atop his tie. "Don't worry… the less tense you are, the less painful it will be…"

"Muraki…" I repeated, breath hitching as he set his fingers against the collar of my t-shirt and trailed them down, up over the rise of my chest and then fluidly downward from the slope of my ribcage. I couldn't help but squirm as he reached the lower hem and then started to retrace his steps, only beneath the shirt this time rather than above it. "Muraki… please… take it from my… from my neck. Not my groin… please… I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

Muraki paused and lifted his face. Without his glasses he looked even more striking. I'd never set my eyes on something so contrarily beautiful and frightening in my entire life. Every time our eyes met, it made me want to curl up so that I would not have to decide whether to crawl from or to him.

"If these were ordinary circumstances Mr. Tsuzuki, I would normally do the opposite of what you request, as I do so enjoy watching your erstwhile attempts to circumvent the more sensual elements these bodies have to offer. However…" And he said this with the same expression one might employ whilst considering whether or not a bite of dog crap might be appealing, "… I do believe that if our arrangement is going to work, then I must forego the usual liberties I would otherwise take with you, beloved. As such, I may experience in return some of the same courtesies that I have extended towards you. I will do as you ask, Mr. Tsuzuki. Your neck it shall be."

Relieved that I had managed to negotiate at least some part of our arrangement, I held still and allowed Muraki to bereave me of my shirt without struggle. I whimpered a little as our bare chests met, finding the sensation of skin against skin one of the most exciting and scary experiences of my afterlife. It wrapped my senses up in trembling, apprehensive anticipation. Succumbing to the moment, I spaced my legs apart and bent my knees, allowing Muraki to rest securely between my thighs, which clasped his wide hips stalwartly.

Muraki pressed his lips into the hallow of my neck and kissed the skin confidently, unoccupied hand tracing up and down along my arm, his fingernails tickling my skin erotically. Little snivels and gasps were seeping out from the corners of my lips, egging Muraki on. He stared down at my body as though it were a dusk of Heaven reflected within the Lake of Fire.

"Beautiful…" He said, touching his lips against mine. I held my breath as both his hands, including the one wielding the belt, snaked up and pressed down on my wrists. A smile marked his emotions.

"I see that you are still wearing the watch that I bought for you." He fluted, rubbing his thumb along the thick band, which concealed my terminal scars from the eyes of day. "You make me very happy, Mr. Tsuzuki. To think that you had not cast it aside in my absence. You humble me, my love."

My chest was heaving against his, lifting his body atop mine in a temperate wave of eroticism, boiling saturating heat melting the very roots of my senses. I thought I would go crazy if something didn't happen soon.

"Muraki… let's just get it over with…" I insisted. Muraki grinned at me, his teeth shining even in the darkness. What little light filtered into the room, danced off of the thin film of saliva coating his straight teeth.

"Eager, Mr. Tsuzuki? Well, I suppose we really shouldn't dally further. Now, if you would be so kind as to take your wrist in the grasp of your hand?"

I did as was told, clasping the wrist of my left hand tightly in between the fingers of my right, not sure why exactly this was a requirement of the transfusion. I soon understood however. Once I had done so, Muraki roughly snatched up my arms by the wrist and dragged me up the bed until we had reached the headboard. I had a sudden epiphany about his reason for holding onto the belt and sure enough, he yanked my hands apart, slid them both between the bedposts and then rushed to wrap the strong leather around my wrists, securing me in place. He met with some objections.

"What do you think you're DOING!" I shrieked, trying to sit up but finding that it only struck terrible pain throughout my shoulders. Muraki forced me down easily with one hand and then kept me in place by jamming his knee strictly into the small of my chest. I struggled against this constriction but found it rather futile to say the least. The white doctor completed his work with ease and I found myself bound to the headboard of my own bed.

Oh my God… he was going to rape me!

"Calm down, Mr. Tsuzuki." Said Muraki soothingly as I lashed against the hold like a man on the receiving end of a noose. "This is just my assurance that you will not hinder my work. The less you move, the less danger there is to both you and me. Do you understand?"

"Like… Hell!" I cranked out, arching my body to try and lift some pressure against the leather strap. "You just don't want me to… stop you!"

Muraki simply smiled as he straddled me, preparing to proceed with or without my consent. I groaned as I felt his teeth touch my neck and I brought my chin down to cover my jugular. He distributed a little puff of air against my skin and then placed his lips against the side of my neck instead, darting his tongue out to capture a small preliminary taste of me.

"Mr. Tsuzuki…" He breathed, sounding thoroughly aroused. My whole body shook. I felt kind of sick to my stomach, the same sort of morbid sensations that might race through a person before receiving an injection. It was a similar ineffectual fear. The knowledge that the sting was coming and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. "Mr. Tsuzuki… steel yourself to receive me. Through me, inject your harmonic energy, that I might overflow with the satiation of your wanton desires …"

"Just… do it…" I panted impatiently, wrapping one leg around his waist and pushing our similarly aroused groins forward in an impetuous kiss.

He bit me.

A Vampire couldn't have done a better job. His teeth pierced my skin more effectively than I would have thought possible. I gasped and hissed, clenching my teeth as I felt blood well out from the incisions and flow over Muraki's lips. There should have been pain; an overwhelming agony that pitched into the very depths of my being. However, the body experienced only the slightest fraction of what I had expected, the initial sting drowned beneath a surprising jet of euphoria lifting its head and sniffing the air. I felt it swell through my body in place of the blood that seeped from the puncture holes in my neck, a sweet, irresistible pleasure that cascaded from the touch of Muraki's mouth, directly down into my groin, stirring the expectant organ painfully. I gasped loudly, heightening the strength of my voice as an arch rippled through my torso unconsciously and I strained against the belt that held my hands as Muraki languidly rolled his hips against mine, caressing my clothed stem of desire.

Muraki laced one hand beneath my body, cradling the arch of my buttocks in the cup formed by his fingers, whilst the other massaged the marks on my neck gently, accelerating the blood flow. He reapplied his mouth tentatively; forming the slightest pressure around the gash he had made and sucking the blood back across his tongue and into the depths of his throat. We were rolling together, our bodies rising up and down on arrows of dark passion, spearing through the connection of lips and flesh. I shut my eyes, whispers of pained ardor seeking freedom from my body.

"Muraki…" I murmured, curling both legs up tightly towards my chest, ensnaring the white doctors hips between my clenched thighs. "Ah… … oh God… M-Muraki!"

I began to see things, things I never thought imaginable. I saw a world with no shade of darkness, in which shadows moved freely with the living and all manner of wickedness brought no foul. A world in which anyone could be forgiven. There were figures of light standing silent and unmoving, a sky alight with the beautiful quills of angels and the earth alive with the eyes of demons, all observing the natural pace of the people of which God fashioned in his own image. Muraki drank and I saw. I saw a world that could not possibly be.

Deeper still, as my energy fluttered within the confines of the doctors lips, I saw four sets of wings, feathers and leather come together and fold inward, as though to protect the creatures within. A figure of light, shining brightest with hair of earth braided in a long trail that lashed behind it like the serpent of sin, raced forward and fire erupted from its' arm. A great hole was cast through two of the wings; one of light and one of darkness, one mark to create two; in the overlap of love.

He drank and I saw a great pool of blood and then I was rising upward on a tidal wave of red and the scars on my wrists twinged and then burst alight with fire and acid, searing into my very core. My senses though unfocused, I knew that the blood was dribbling down my right arm and Muraki's mouth was there, lapping the trails away, long fingers effectively tugging free the watch and placing it aside, so that his lips could kiss and caress my burst iris's of punishment. A sudden hitch of insanity struck me through and I found myself bucking my hips upward against his, tugging at the belt with all my strength. To my great surprise, I found I could not snap it as easily as I thought. As a Guardian, it should have been no great task at all.

Muraki chuckled darkly and distributed one last lick to my scars before dipping his mouth down towards my own. It was too dark to tell but as he kissed me, I realized that my own blood stained his lips. He fed me to myself and I lapped the curves of his mouth savagely, finding the metallic taste to be rather to my liking.

"Struggle all you wish, Mr. Tsuzuki. I daresay you'll find your attempts to be quite futile." His smile only increased at the line that appeared between my brows and he started to stroke my buttocks as though this would make up for the fact that my arms were currently being yanked out of joint. "I expended quite a considerable amount of mana enchanting that belt with a Binding Intensification Blight but… I think it was certainly worth the forfeiture, to see you so beautifully vulnerable beneath me. As for so long I had dreamed you would be…"

"A-Are you d-do-done yet?" I asked, trying not to think too deeply about his words. From the glint in his eye, I understood very quickly that this hiatus did not mean that Muraki intended to end it.

"Oh no, my darling." He whispered, fingers brushing along my back and into the small of my waist before traversing further. They were underneath the waistband now and I all but shrieked at his boldness, lifting my pelvis in an attempt to draw my bottom away from his touch. He allowed me this much, concentration directed towards my neck. He nuzzled in close, tasting the remains of blood, nipping at the skin that had now healed over, leaving nothing but slightly pinkish flesh that soon too would return to its' normal shade. "Mr. Tsuzuki… my love… you heal far too quickly. How will I ever achieve a substantial meal at this rate?"

"Make that your problem… not mine…" There was no more elegant a response to arise from this broken monster, lying half naked and bloodied against the sheets, body on offer to sin personified.

Muraki nuzzled my cheek with his own, eyes shut and expression as lazy as that of a cat basking in a strong ray of sunlight. I relinquished self-control for a moment, to allow myself one tiny kiss of his mouth. His delight was palpable.

"Oh Mr. Tsuzuki… I shall rectify this problem… we must swim within that sea of darkness again. To see what the other saw… darkness and light…"

"You saw it too?" My voice emerged so softly from the depths of my chest that it didn't surprise me when Muraki failed to answer. His weight shifted and from the angle of his shadowed body I assumed that he was removing something from his pants pocket. I heard a click as a component snapped into place with a very disturbing rush, as though a thin, long object had just been released to great air friction.

"Muraki?" I squeaked. His hand now set itself between my ass cheeks, his fingernail lightly brushing upward toward where my entrance lay. My entire body shifted and I pressed my lips together tightly, wanting to close my eyes but afraid that it would afford Muraki too much leniency. Cold chills snapped through me like the thin edge of a whip.

"Relax, Mr. Tsuzuki."

"Muraki…"

"You have to be strong… you must endure it, as you do the pain of your emotions, the pain of your mind. Rise above it, though it may seek to encompass you."

Perhaps a cloud had veiled the moon up until that point, because a thread of light knifed through the windows and struck the object in Muraki's hand. Lift flickered, leapt and divided along a thin, narrow shaft, barely two inches long. My eyelids jumped apart regardless.

"Muraki… MURAKI DON'T!"

"Don't succumb to pain, Mr. Tsuzuki! Embrace it! Embrace it with ecstasy, as have I!" Muraki yelled, reeling his arm back so that it entered the dim stream of light. It was just as I feared; he had a knife in his hand. A small knife admittedly, like a pocketknife but unpleasant looking regardless.

"NO!" I begged, tugging at the bewitched belt to no avail. It really was as strong as he had said. Tears of fear and frustration welled up in my eyes, when I understood all too well that I was once more a prisoner to suffering. It would be delivered unto me, no matter how I begged. If only I could touch him… If only I could have nursed his face, his cheeks, his lips… Could I have stolen the aggression away? "Goddamn you! Damn you to Hell if you stick that knife into me! Oh Muraki, no… please don't… don't make me suffer again!"

This was not to be the lovely moment I would have preferred however. In the weak light, I could see how indeed he had suffered betwixt of the curse; the lines I had seen the night of his return to me. They were back again, stretching across his skin jaggedly in all directions, even more brutal than Hisoka's and somehow, less artistic. The lines were closer together, awakened by his bloodlust. They were…

"Succumb!" Muraki hissed and I steeled myself as the blade carved down, slicing through air so cleanly I would not have been surprised had he split the dynamics of physical reality apart. His smile was manic and I wanted to scream to the hilt of my capabilities as the blade sank deep into my neck, punching through my throat and hitting the mattress upon which I lay, tearing a hole in the material. Blood splattered outward from the wound and spread across the white sheet, like a red flower.

A rose… blooming…

This was ecstasy.

I couldn't make a noise and the pain was absolute. I was dead; I couldn't survive this any more than the average mortal. Blood gurgled down through my throat and I thought I would choke upon the thick vitae. Then Muraki finally released me. He tugged the knife free and brought it to his lips, running the immaculately sharp blade along his tongue, cutting himself as he simultaneously lapped free my blood. When he had thoroughly cleaned the metallic edge, he dropped it loudly on the floor and sank his teeth viciously around the hole he had made, sucking in as hard as he could. Blood jetted upward from the gash in my throat like an eager fountain, my only vocalization a strained gurgle as my vocal cords started to heal. I wanted to hate him for doing this to me… I had every right and I know that.

But I knew the blame was not entirely his. This cryptic scripture branded into his body had been the fault for his violent assault, his lack of mana entailing such difficulties in controlling the aggressive outbursts. If we were to do this consistently then there would perhaps be less anger in his acquisition methods, since he would be readily supplied with an energy source and in greater control.

And it was sick, it was wrong on so many levels, but that agonizing infliction somehow became pleasurable. The hole through the back of my neck healed and my vocal cords knitted together perfectly and the first sound that emitted from them was not a groan of pain but of pleasure.

Muraki's tongue was deep inside of me; I could feel his tongue in my throat, slipping around my torn veins. Hmmm… a violent spasm shot through me and I was rising up on that dark wave of shadows again, wrists burning from the constriction of the belt and groin pounding as his own rubbed against mine with carnal assertion. He placed his hand on the blank side of my neck, massaging me gently as he drank from me and I was weak with pain and blood loss but powerfully high on erotic, irregular pleasure. The primal depths of my instincts were persuading me to return his attack, to make him bleed in return for his gift but my position on the bed was not exactly conducive to that sentiment. No longer was I merely tolerating my part in this act, I was a fully-fledged participant. I was panting rhythmically, body rising forward and backward as though it were my penis in his mouth, rather than my neck. I cannot say for sure that I would have found oral sex more enjoyable. Sincerely, in that moment, I was unable to envision a greater pleasure.

Muraki's angry fire seemed to be ebbing and I think he realized the hurtful thing that he had done. More so, I understood as much that he had come to regret it, now that he was more in control of himself. To demonstrate this, he slipped his tongue back; allowing the hole over my throat to heal and tearing the skin gently, in order to instigate a light flow of blood. A little cry escaped me as he softly kissed the slight gashes, sucking at them with his perfect full lips and running his tongue against them. I shifted the angle of my spine and then consciously forced myself to relax as Muraki's fingers brushed against my ridged point of entry once more, stabbing heat through me and causing a pain to flutter in my chest and the very pit of my stomach.

No one… ever… that place was untouched. That place his long, perfectly sculptured nail now circled, sending my cock into feverish twitches within the confines of my pants.

"Exquisite!" Muraki gasped, casting his head back so that his irregular right eye was exposed. His silver hair slashed through the dim moonlight like wayward rain. "Your spiritual energy is a pure undiluted delicacy. So sweet… it nourishes me thoroughly to my very roots, so that I feel replenished in all aspects of my psyche. Your essence… it sends my body raging! How beautiful you are, Mr. Tsuzuki… you are truly worthy of my love…" And then his teeth were inside of me again and my body was growing number by the second. I couldn't care less. I had never come so close to overflowing with pleasure. I groaned, loud and deep as he found me, his finger sinking in before I could register the utmost importance of this event. The first time another had penetrated me. I gasped in shock as he worked the digit down into the rigid walls, until he was submerged to the second knuckle. It stung like hell, possibly because there was no lubrication and I had no prior sexual experience but when he started to make motions inside of me, I saw things that I had never seen before and I understand then truly, how one came to encompass pain.

His tongue grazed my healing wounds, our hard penises scraping together through the material of our pants and just when the figures of light and darkness started to dance before my eyes again, Muraki struck something inside of me that obliterated every definition that separated one from the next into blinding hot stars, ripping apart reality at the seams. I struck my head back against the bloodstained sheet as my pelvis convulsed, gray shades of either and nothing enrapturing every component of my entire being and accelerating the sparks of pleasure to the point that I wondered would I ever come down from it.

It was a slow descent but it was with gradual reluctance that I returned, becoming aware once my senses were slightly less scrambled, of two imperative things.

Number one: After ninety years, I had at long last come at someone's hand other than my own.

Number two: My pants were a mess.

Muraki kept his teeth pinched tightly into my flesh as I rode out the final wave of my orgasm, groaning as I felt his finger slide out of me. Every time I shifted, the warm, velvety mess in my pants started to run down my thighs, seeping into the lowest valley and sinking through the fabric. It occurred to me then that Muraki would not only be aware of my climax but that he very possibly felt it. His groin was pressed to mine after all. He was still as hard as a rock, whilst my own cock had slumped down limply between my thighs, dripping the substantiation of my disgraced passion.

"Are you… done?" I hissed through clenched teeth. I was surprised that I was able to produce anything comprehensible at all.

For a moment I thought that Muraki hadn't heard, for he remained sanctioned in place against my neck, like a leech that had not taken its' fill. On the verge of repeating my question, he drew back, blood dripping from the lowermost curve of his lips and trailing spatters across my chest. I watched in morbid fascination as he rested back on his knees, forming an arrow between my thighs and produced a second handkerchief from his pocket, which he used to salve the remnants leaking stray from his mouth. My eyes trailed down to the overt bulge beneath the zipper of his pants and my sweat stained features flushed a darker crimson than the sting of orgasm had already reduced them to.

"Indeed, I believe I am." The cold doctor concluded, lowering the handkerchief and using it to mop up the blood lingering about the now departed wound upon my neck and then across my soaked features. My pants were still uncomfortably sticky. "And you, Mr. Tsuzuki? He who was not in the mood for 'love.' Are you quite, as you say… done?"

I knew that he was referring to my impromptu orgasm and my residual euphoria was quickly replaced by anger. I tugged tightly at the bewitched belt, twisting my wrists beneath the leather until they chaffed.

"Listen you asshole… I just wanna make this clear that just because you can… make… this sort of thing happen, it doesn't mean that I like you!" I snapped, wanting to kick him in his vulnerable area but found that the slight alteration of my leg position sent trails streaming further and I was forced to rescind upon my course of action. Albeit very reluctantly. "In fact, I would go so far as to say that it makes me despise you even further! Now, let me up so I- "

The continuation of my sentence was evaporated by a steamy kiss that left my toes curling, my passion serrated body aching for more even following a rather satisfying climax. Muraki traced my lower lip with his tongue; giving me a taste of the copper fuel he had drawn from my veins and then threaded himself into the familial space behind my teeth, our act of intimacy condemning my spoken word. A shudder raced through his body, I sensed it traveling up his neck. I didn't understand it, until I tasted blood in my mouth and understood that he was feeding some of himself back to me, an act of appreciation. I set my teeth around his tongue and tugged downward until I found the gash, where I set to work squeezing the blood from it, until the copper tang swiveled down my throat, as intoxicating as the most lethal of wines I had ever succumb to. My eyelashes fluttered against my cheeks, my entire being humming beneath the flicker of his touch upon me. To Muraki, I was eternally chained, to be played as his instrument. His doll. The slave of its' own defunct emotions. A tear rolled across my cheek and it burnt like blood acid.

Muraki groaned as he snapped his mouth free and he smiled dangerously as I reached up for him, seeking out the source of food, as might a baby chick. He rested the pad of his thumb against my lips and wiped them clean of the trace of his own blood. I bit his thumb as he tried to return it to the sanctity of his body. It was only then that he allowed me to take back that stain he had thought to remove.

"I see… when the rose is released from tension, it reveals the core of its primal being…" Muraki mused, nursing his welling thumb. I stifled a whimper as he ran the uninjured hand down along my damp torso and then, without warning, gently took his fingers into the recess of my loins, submerging his touch within the shameful river I had created. The direct contact made me want to howl like a beast. It made me want to dash him into bloody pieces upon the ground. Only one other man had ever put his bare hand on my naked penis and even then, he had never made me come as a result of it.

My forbidden love.

"I love you." Muraki said, his entire dark splendor crushing me with the weight of those dangerous words.

I groaned and tried to alter my body angle to rid myself of his touch but he held me soft and soundly, secure yet brittle as though his fingers could shatter at any one moment. I was starting to pant again, willing myself in a hundred different ways, not to become aroused a second time over. I didn't know if I could survive a twofold humiliation.

"Why… why is it…?" I panted to no one in particular, as Muraki knelt forward to kiss the clavicle of my neck. The skin prickled from his contact and my heart shook its fist. From either fury or ecstasy, or even a little of both. Either and nothing. "Why … can't I … hate you…? After everything you've done…?"

"Forgive me my darling, but I cannot give you that answer." Muraki said, nestling his chin against the side of my face. "That is the question which you must resolve yourself. Though… I am honored to learn that you do not in fact dislike me after all. I was beginning to worry…"

I snorted in a rather ungentlemanly manner. "Yeah right… cut the crap and untie this damn belt so that I can take a shower and get… cleaned up…" Of course I concluded this seemingly straightforward request with a blush. "I'm starting to think that it's a good thing I used up all the hot water… cold shower is just what I need…"

Muraki smiled predatorily as he held aloft his blood stained handkerchief. "I could spare you the discomfort Mr. Tsuzuki, if you would allow me to remove your pants for you…?"

"No, thankyou." I said quickly, wishing that I were in a more authoritarian position to object. "I've done a lot worse in my time than take a cold shower. And I told you; it's what I need. Now… please… untie me?"

He untied me. He didn't need to be told three times and he didn't go ahead and give me a sponge bath anyway, even after I said no. I think the surprise registered on my face, because Muraki questioned me as I sat up and pulled my kimono off of the floor, quickly sanctioning it around my body so that the semen stains weren't on show as I made my way to the bathroom.

"You've changed…" I said, in response to his question.

Muraki twisted his lip roughly to the side, in what I suppose passed as a smile in bitter hue of his circumstances.

"I have been trying." He stated and then, in an even more surprising move, placed his hand around to rest upon the nape of my neck and brought me close, so that my face resided in the cradle of his collarbone. "I apologize for… injuring you. After so long it was… is difficult to… well, I'm sure you understand, am I right?"

I took a deep sigh, noting that the marks of the curse upon his body were gone. The attack he instigated upon me must have been violence enough to sate him for the time being. I didn't mean for my next words to arise as bitterly as they were expelled but indeed they took little heed of my internalizations.

"As long as you leave other people out of it, I don't care what happens to me," I said, pressing my fingernails into his bare bicep and digging them in slightly. His expression didn't change in acknowledgement to any pain I might have inflicted upon him. "But… the more we do this… the easier it becomes for you to control this… curse on your body, right?"

He nodded, soothing his hand through the sodden lap of my hair. So much for the leave-in conditioner.

"That is correct, yes."

"Then the more the better. Perhaps every three days… will that suffice?"

"Certainly."

"Then three days it is. Now, could you do me a favor?"

Muraki altered his position so that he could meet my eyes. I could see him smirking beneath the sheathe of darkness.

"That of course depends on the nature of the favor."

I couldn't help but smile back, a little guiltily at that. At times it was almost like he could read my thoughts.

"While I'm in the shower… would you mind… you know, since you made the mess…. just… changing the sheets for me? I'll probably need to throw this out 'cause I don't think I'm likely to get those blood stains out, if I'm to go by what you told me."

Muraki chuckled softly and patted my thigh.

"Consider it done. Though I usually delegate less favorable tasks to my working staff, I believe I remember how to make a bed, if my days at University taught me anything."

"Thanks," I said, climbing to my feet. "You'll find spare sheets and all the rest in the storage room. It's that door opposite the kitchen. On the right hand side when you come in." Something else came to mind and I turned to face him, even as he started to evict the dirtied sheets from the bed. I struggled to say something constructive of my pre-readied thoughts but found my attention distracted by the doctors' rather well defined backside, outlined nicely beneath the walls of his white pants as he bent over to reach the bed. "Um… I'll try to be as quick ass- I mean, as possible butt… but-but-but you don't have to wait around for me. Doctors have better things to do with their hind- TIME… I meant time… I meant… I'm… gonna go have that shower now…" Which was my cue to stumble higgledy-piggledy from the room, turning the brightest shade of red imaginable and stubbing my toe on the doorframe on the way out. The mess in my pants had now decided to migrate south for the winter and it was with some degree of knee's-pinched-together difficulty that I was forced to hop across the hallway into the bathroom and slam the door shut behind me. If there was any ass in question at that point in time, it was the one who made thoroughly sure to bang his dumbass head against the wall a few times before quickly stripping down and diving beneath the icy cold water, emitting off a rather dubious cloud of steam as soon as his skin made contact.

I had been submerged for maybe ten seconds when I heard the muffled trilling of a ring tone I didn't recognize. Muraki's footsteps thundered out of the bedroom a moment later, his deep voice assuring that 'It was his cellular and that I shouldn't worry.'

Finding it deeply ironic that a serial killer was telling me 'not to worry' within the confines of my apartment, I returned to my frosty shower, contemplating the various twists and turns this extraordinary world upends in our laps. My legs were still a little shaky from the aftershock of my orgasm and I leant against the side of the shower, one arm wrapped around my upper body to keep my balance. Without really thinking about it, I started to softly sing to myself as I lathered up a bar of soap and proceeded to clean my chest and neck. Dried blood soon turned the faded trails of water along my body red, as from memory I recited the song my sister had written; that she would trot out when performing mandatory housework, or teaching me to dance in the sitting area after dinner. She would use it to calm me, after I had been spurned by the fellow villagers, the children who would have otherwise been my playmates.

"When you feel the urge to cry and you can't hold back your tears,

Don't be ashamed to let me see, don't hide your eyes from me.

Let's walk across the bridges railing, hand in hand in case we slip,

I'll hold you steady as the wind sweeps through our hair.

Those tears will fade away and I'll pick you up in my arms,

I'll carry you over the distant mountains and to the far off sea.

Shrug off your shoes and we'll dance across the ocean, kiss the damp sand beneath our feet,

Soon I know you'll bear that smile, I'll hear you laughing carelessly.

Then I'll kiss your fingers one by one

And ask you to close your eyes

Tell me how it feels, to be in love the very first time

Don't be a stranger to new love

Don't run back and slip your feet into your shoes

Before you run, let's plunge into the ocean

I'll give you the answer, as we dance hand in hand beneath the waves;

"Here you are so I can make you smile! Isn't that enough for now?"

I want to know you're reassured, that you know I won't lie to you

Someday you won't have to be afraid of what anyone expects of you

You'll shrug off their words like your old shoes and we'll go dancing across the sand

Anywhere will be fine, just as long as you're there with me

Give me a smile, slip your fingers into my hand

Propel yourself through that window and open your arms

Your wings will catch the wind

The day will come when you can wake up and smile

With one by your side, their arms around you

You and I will meet again, when you find that distant ocean and dance across the sand

The bar of soap fell from my hand and landed in a splash on the shower floor. I felt my body growing even weaker than the blood loss could compensate for.

It hit me in one of those magical revelations you could swear only ever happened in movies.

One week ago, the night that Pandora had lost his life to the demon Balban, he had bestowed upon me the gift that had belonged to my sister. That I had placed in her coffin, before handing over her body to the grave.

The handkerchief bearing the imprint of the tulip.

Then he had followed Muraki and I to the door. I strained my memory, praying that it did not serve me false.

Muraki led me toward the main exit out of the cinema, the one where most of the other patrons had fled earlier. Pandora flounced along behind us, humming a tune I thought was ringing a few bells.

I hadn't been able to place it then, because of the injuries to my head, denying access to my memories of the past. But it was no mere coincidence. I knew now without a doubt the song that he had been humming.

The song that my sister wrote. Nearly one whole century ago.

I fell to my knees in the shower, the last of my strength leaving me completely. It couldn't be a coincidence. Even the way in which the kid had addressed me had sparked recognition. The cutsey manner of spelling out the name; it was both nurturing and childlike, the exact same manner in which Ruka had spoken to me, especially when I was emotionally tender.

He was spinning on his toes in the movie cinema. Dancing. He spoke so sweetly and gave me gifts because he couldn't bear to see me cry.

Just like her.

"Oh my God…" I murmured, my body shaking from more than just the cold water. "She gave me back the gift that I returned to her. Could it be…? Could… Pandora be Ruka?"

**-Part 2 complete: -**


	17. Cutthroat Eurynomous: Part 3

**_Dark Adaptation_**

**Disclaimer: **Descendants of Darkness; Alias: Yami no Matsuei does not belong to me, blah blah blah, Am not benefiting financially from writing fanfiction about it, blahdie, blahdie blah, claim no ownership over any of the main characters only the ones that do in fact belong to me, bloodie, blahdie bloo, crap, crap, crap, yadie, yada, ya, pink hamsters, you know the drill.

**A/N: **Welcome to Part 3 of Cutthroat Eurynomous! Whoa… a lot of work has sure gone into these past couple of additions! Unfortunately, from hence forth, reviewer reviews will be no longer appearing in Dark Adaptation. But only because the chapters are so long and the reviewer reviews were taking up more room than the actual chapter content. Hence, I have decided to scrap them. Not for any other reason, however. I would love to keep doing them and plan to do something similar once the website is up. Rather it will be an Ask Characters section. So sorry everyone that liked the reviewer reviews but that's the way it's got to be, I'm afraid. On that note, I'm getting rid of the reviewer reviews on earlier chapters also, so if you still really want to read them, I'll ask that you email me and I'll send you a copy because I'll be keeping them all. My apologies.

**Watari: **Wha? No more reviewer reviews? (Looks sad) Awww… but I loved doing those so much!

**Tsuzuki: **Me too! No more cuddles from the reviewers! … On the bright side, no more creepy molestation requests either!

**Muraki: **They did take up an awfully large amount of room, so I suppose it can't be helped. It is kind of sad to see them go…

**Oriya: **Not that it's going to stop NaPap writing us in like this, huh?

**Watari: **Well, we hope you enjoy the new chapter readers! And to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, thank you so, so much! You know we love you, but we unfortunately just don't have the room to thank you all!

**NaPap: **And extra especially, thankyou to everyone who wrote such kind words of comfort for me following the death of my little doggy, Gizmo. You're thoughtfulness helped me through that rough and emotional time and I'm so grateful. I wish I could thank you all individually but it just isn't possible. Just know that I really appreciate it. With that being said, maybe an update can express my gratitude! Enjoy everyone! And as usual, thanks for betta-ring for me Olive-chan! And regards to Jewell for all her email reviews! Love you guys!

**Oriya**

_The wisp of blue death wound its way through the ice-choked woodland path, mixing with the ribbon of mist that caressed the dripping trees with icy fingers. Saki Shidou leant the back of his head upon the trunk of the tree he had been lounging against, his mousy brown hair flecked with droplets of water. He was rugged up tightly against the cold, a thick insulated jacket, black jeans and knee length lace up boots. He inhaled deeply on the cigarette between his lips, causing the orange ember to throw a circle of dim light across his pale but attractive face. The second hand on his watch drummed its fingers impatiently across the numbers._

_"Early morning,_

_Mist rising_

_Wake me in the spring"_

_Saki dipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved the small notepad he kept there for such occasions as this. No one could tell when inspiration was about to strike and luck certainly favored the prepared. He whipped a pen out of his other pocket and quickly scribbled down the haiku he had composed, purely on whim. No one was likely to be impressed by such things but Saki had made it a habit to keep records of his more creative moments, no matter how pointless it may have seemed to other people._

_When he had put both the notepad and the pen away, only then did he become aware of the presence that had joined him in the deserted stretch of woods. A hand came from behind the tree of which he had taken momentary recluse against and seized the cigarette from between his lips. Two fingers held the small cylinder of death out before his face as though making sure that he could not possibly have missed it._

_"Your father would have a fit if he caught you smoking, you know."_

_Saki chuckled as the hand withdrew taking the cigarette with it. "Give me a break, Senpai. Like you don't nick fags out of your father's desk every chance you get."_

_"That's none of your business." The voice replied in a curt tone colder than the air that carried it. Saki heard the crackle of burning paper and nicotine and then a funnel of smoke passed by his slightly flushed cheek, evaporating into the vapors of the forest. "Your parents trust me to watch out for you and Kazutaka. I don't want your Papa thinking I'm not doing my bit."_

_The dark-haired boy stepped out from behind the tree, shoulder length hair tied back in a high ponytail. He was wearing a thick green jacket, dark blue pants and brown hiking boots. A navy scarf was bound around his neck, hands guarded against the cold by a pair of black suede gloves. Oriya Mibu drew deeply on the cigarette and then extinguished the ember on the trunk of the aforementioned tree. Instead of throwing the butt on the ground, he fished a tissue out of his pocket and bundled the expired cigarette within the white folds of soft paper, shoving it back into the depths of his trousers. His narrow eyes glared reproachfully at the fifteen-year-old boy before finally expelling the cigarette smoke from his lungs. Saki smiled pretentiously as the gray web hit the air, his expression slightly warped from behind the wall of death._

_A branch cracked underfoot and both boys looked over to see Kazutaka Muraki stumbling awkwardly towards them through the line of trees, rugged up to the chin; the sign of an overprotective mother. The silence of the woods allowed his audible curses to be amplified quite satisfactorily._

_"Couldn't we have come here later in the day when it wasn't so damned cold?" He grumbled, stumbling over an upraised tree root and nearly falling flat on his face. "Everything's covered in ice! What if we trip going along that path? We could end up breaking our necks!"_

_"Geez… you really are hopeless aren't you, little brother?" Saki said, grinning broadly, both hands raised in a sort of exaggerated shrug. "I don't know about you but I think it was worth getting up this early to see the forest shrine. I'm not going to let a little ice and cold stand between us, ne Senpai?"_

_Oriya was standing slightly off to the side, hands wedged determinedly into his pockets, eyes on something far in the distance that no one else probably had a hope in hell of seeing. He looked up at Saki's voice and gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders._

_"I don't see what the hell's so great about this goddamn shrine in the first place." said Kazutaka, sniffing in resistance against an oncoming cold. The boy was prone to swearing a little over excessively in order to compensate for the helplessness he felt within his family unit, particularly in regards to his over-obsessive mother. Saki frowned over his shoulder._

_"Little brother, do not take the good Lord's name in vain." He scolded shaking a finger. "But, to answer your question, this shrine was built to commemorate the god of fertility. They say if you visit there and offer a prayer, your chances of meeting your soul mate increase greatly!"_

_"But… what if you don't have a soul like Oriya?" Kazutaka teased, smiling at the older boy who was unwrapping a stick of gum. Oriya merely made a rude hand gesture as he chewed away at the mint-scented mouth occupation._

_Saki made a sort of 'meh' noise as he withdrew the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, ('**With Class**' inscribed upon the label) tugged one out with his teeth, offering one of the remaining sticks to his younger half brother. Oriya looked on disapprovingly as Kazutaka accepted._

_"Oh, don't go giving him evils." Saki said, lighting up his cigarette and then leaning over so that Kazutaka could press the tip of his own cylinder to the burning ember. Smoke was soon swirling around their faces. "It will do more for that cold of his than all those layers will."_

_"Besides… you smoke, too, don't you, Oriya?" Kazutaka shot back, emboldened now that he had been included in his older half brothers deviances. Oriya's expression grew darker._

_"I don't care much for cigarettes." He said simply, turning toward the thin winding path that trailed a line into the woods at a slightly upward degree. "In any event, we should set out for the temple now. That way we can be back at the motel by lunch time."_

_The other two boys nodded and the three of them set off along the path, Oriya in the lead, his reflexes being highly advanced he would be able to recover if indeed the trail proved dangerous to traverse. Kazutaka, being the physically weakest, was shepherded by Saki, both drawing on their cigarette's so deeply it was a wonder the smoke ever resurfaced._

_The quiet pace was uncomfortable because Kazutaka could tell Oriya was disappointed with them, particularly him. He still didn't know Saki very well, the other boy had only moved in with his family four months ago. He had seen him around at his middle school but his past before then was pretty much a mystery. What was clear, however was the their father, Yeryuto Muraki, had wanted nothing to do with his bastard son until he had no other choice but to involve himself. Since Oriya was giving them the silent treatment, Kazutaka took this as the perfect chance to find out a little more about his reluctant sibling._

_"You know… it's a shame Ukyou couldn't join us." Saki suddenly avowed, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and expelling the fumes outward so that they drafted back into his face. He brushed the cloud out of the way, as though it were nothing more than an irritating swarm of insects. "She loves examining old temples, things like that. Gets a kick out of it. She was real beat when her folks made her stay back instead."_

_"You would bring a delicate rose like Ukyou out to a place like this? Just so she could freeze in the snow?" Oriya's deep voice wafted back from the figure preceding them. "And I always took you to be a nice guy, too…"_

_Saki waved his free hand dismissively. "Who says I'm not, Oriya-senpai? Come on give a guy some credit. He's not a bastard for wanting to spend some romantic time with his girlfriend is he? Shame about you two knuckling in, but, hey… not much you can do about your family, eh?"_

_Kazutaka tried to ignore the distinct kick of jealousy he felt serenading the depths of his stomach and forced a smile as they rounded a curve in the path. It wasn't that he particularly liked Ukyou that way himself… they had grown up together, so she was more like a sister rather than a prospective love interest. But… he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that Saki, who had only known her for a couple of months, could waltz in so easily and take up a place in her heart that was just that tiny bit closer than Kazutaka knew he was ever likely to reach for obvious reasons._

_"You and Ukyou seem to be going steady. Three months so far…"_

_"You realize the consequences of breaking that girl's heart, I hope." Oriya said warningly from somewhere up ahead. Saki emitted a fake shiver and hid behind Kazutaka in the most exaggerated fashion possible._

_"Scary Senpai's gonna kick my butt!" He fake sobbed, emitting even the smallest smile from the usually emotionally docile child of the moon. "Oh, Senpai… please don't kill me… Everyone makes mistakes! You know I wouldn't hurt Ukyou on purpose."_

_Oriya glanced over his shoulder to shoot the other boy a very condescending stare and then returned his watchful eyes to the path ahead._

_"If I recall correctly, Saki, your last 'mistake' was that you cheated on your girlfriend with another guy… is this a-ringing any bells?"_

_"Ah… a few…" Saki chuckled, having the decency to look at least slightly ashamed of himself. Muraki, however, was all frowns._

_"Saki! You know that sort of behaviour is a sin! You can't be with other men! It goes against nature."_

_Saki looked momentarily startled. "So they say in the Bible, I suppose… but that's not what I was born and raised on. I just go with my gut instinct, Kazu. And on that note, the little campy kettle shouldn't be calling the little poofy pot black either. If I recall correctly, isn't it YOU oh wee little brother o' mine, that keeps a picture of some guy he's never met in the drawer beside his bed? Or do you sleep with it under your pillow and kiss it goodnight before you fit your little head into the world of dreams?"_

_Kazutaka's embarrassment was palpable. "That… how… You promised that was just between us! How could you bring that up against me?"_

_Saki shrugged. "What choice did I have when you were leveling that two-faced religious tirade at me? I'm not sayin' there's anything wrong with it; so don't go getting all weepy on me. Your tears would freeze." He balked, realizing that Kazutaka was indeed on the verge of crying, most likely out of embarrassment and frustration. "Aw Hell… sorry, but it really ain't no big deal! Oriya ain't gonna tell anyone! Besides… he's bi-curious himself, don't you know?"_

_Oriya's voice was completely deadpan. "You have no proof to support that statement, so I suggest shutting your mouth until you can back up your accusations."_

_"Oh, trust me… he's got the hots for an older man." Saki whispered, nudging Kazutaka in the ribs with his elbow. It was enough to return the wedge between their members once more and the two half-brothers could only laugh as Oriya stomped crankily on ahead, trying to hide his reddening face beneath his scarf and nearly smothering himself as a result._

_Saki urged Kazutaka on, their arms linked together and both still chuckling from their success at getting one over their senior._

_"Listen kid, don't ever let anyone tell ya that it's wrong to want someone that you care about, no matter who they are." The elder half-brother stated, fixing Kazutaka with his intense icy blue stare. His small pupils demanded complete uninhibited attention. "My Papa… obviously he wasn't my real father but he was a substitute until Da came and picked me up, he always said that it shouldn't matter the what, who, why or how of the person. If you love them, the rest comes naturally and you tell anyone who tells you otherwise to stick it. It's the only path to bein' happy. And just so you know, I believe in God perhaps more so than any one of you and in so saying, I believe in his love of us. God is a wonderful, benign perfect creature, beyond hating us for what we might deem sins. He will accept us when time elapses and when he asks you to tell him who you loved in this world, tell him proudly and I guarantee you, that there will be no punishment done unto you for the sin of making someone happy with that love. God would never do that. He is beyond such petty grievances. They are reserved for humans and humans alone. You understand, Kazu?"_

_Kazutaka nodded, suddenly feeling better about the photograph he had found in his Grandfather's possessions, the picture of the beautiful brunette that enraptured his heart and made him feel safe at night. Saki was right. How could God hate such him for such thoughts, when all they did was make him happy? Even if Saki was difficult to put up with sometimes, at least he could confide in him about these sorts of things and find a level of understanding that he was unable to obtain from anyone else._

_"Say, Saki… what was your life like before you came to live with us? You know… your childhood?"_

_Saki mused on this for a moment, humming around the burning cigarette thoughtfully. "You're still anxious to know more?"_

_"Well, of course, I am! From what you have told me, it sounds as though you had it good. Who did you live with again? Your mother, wasn't it?"_

_Once again, Saki took his time answering. Though he wasn't obvious about it, it was clear that he found the subject uncomfortable. Kazutaka almost regretted bringing it up in the first place, wanting nothing more than to get along with his sibling without abrasive conflict. But more than that he wanted to know about him._

_"Well…" the boy began, his voice dragging as though weighed down with much reluctance. "For the first couple of years of m'life, I lived with my mother, yes. The very patient that our father cheated on your mother with." He said this bit a little fiercely as though he was hoping to purposefully hurt his younger brother. Kazutaka felt the sting as intended but tried not to let it show. Saki, awaiting a reaction and getting none, withdrew the cigarette and held it between two fingers, regarding it as though it were the most fascinating thing. "My mother didn't have a partner but she had a close male friend who would visit regularly. I thought of him as my father even though we didn't share so much as a drop of DNA. It may have been as untrue as this family is but I was happy."_

_"What happened?" Kazutaka asked, intrigued in spite of himself._

_"… An accident…" The boy said so softly it had all the density of the mist surrounding them. "An accident took them all away from me. I ended up at an orphanage for a couple of years, until the folks there were able to get in contact with my blood father. And our old man finally saw he had no choice. Wanted to do the right thing, I guess." For a moment he looked angry and bit his lip until it just about bled. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone and Saki was smiling, ruffling the silver hair of his sibling. "Still, I gained a brother out of it. When God closes a door, he opens a window, doesn't he?"_

_He laughed and moved a little further up the path, head lowered in perfect mock emulation of Oriya. Meanwhile Kazutaka was wrestling with what he had found out and was disappointed to find that it did not concur with his suspicions. It offered no explanation of Saki's behavior. He came to a dead stop on the path; gloved hands clenched into tight fists and face utterly sallow and despondent. The path had emerged over an open precipice; below them was at least a twenty foot drop crowned by a threadbare of sharp, ice encrusted rocks. The drop itself was angled downward, not a direct fall but it was still deep enough to fill Kazutaka with a deep feeling of vertigo._

_"I don't want you doing it anymore."_

_Saki ground to a halt and turned around, his expression confused. Oriya also paused in his momentum but didn't turn._

_"Doing what anymore, little brother?" Saki asked carefully but fell back stunned as Kazutaka started to scream at him. His usually serene and docile face was pinched in anger; his eyes clenched shut._

_"I know what you've been doing and I don't need your sympathy!" He barked, flinging his arm outward as though this would propel the words faster towards his brother. "Keep the money for yourself. If you're going to send yourself to Hell then that's your own business but I have no need of money you've earned by committing an act of treachery against God!"_

_Oriya finally turned around. "What on earth is he talking about?"_

_Saki was livid. "Never you mind, Senpai. Kazutaka, where is this coming from? What makes you think that I would-"_

_"I SAW YOU!" Kazutaka screamed. "I saw what you did! I don't want your pity! I don't want you doing that just because you feel sorry for me!"_

_Saki moved closer, trying to keep their conversation veiled from Oriya which was really rather pointless. The boy had ears like a fox. He rarely missed anything._

_"It's only to keep her drug prescriptions updated, so she won't feel compelled to… well, you know, of course. I can still see those horrid marks where last that awful woman 'repaired' you. As long as she's medicated, she's docile."_

_"A-Awful… w-woman?" The words scratched out of Kazutaka's mouth as though he found them impossible to believe. Before he had even registered what he was doing, he'd lashed out and punched Saki hard across the mouth. A great pressure seemed to lift from his shoulders once the strike had found its mark. It felt so right. The wet but hot blood that spurted from the other boys split lip, lapping across the ridges of his fingers. The way Saki's head snapped roughly to the side, expression aghast. Totally unsuspecting. It was… perfect. "Don't you DARE speak about my mother that way you, you stupid… you evil bastard!"_

_"Don't you hit me, you little brat!" Saki had recovered more quickly than Kazutaka had suspected and he slapped the silver haired boy across the mouth. Kazutaka stumbled back from the burning throb and then with a violent retch of sound, hurled himself at his half-brother, arms crossed over his chest and pushing at him with his elbows, trying to get at his face. Saki shoved him back easily, wrapping his left arm around the younger boys head and throwing him backwards against the frozen ground. The fall was jarring and Kazutaka winced as pain lanced through his tailbone. With revenge sparking deviant thoughts, he scrambled for the cigarette that he had dropped in their scruffle and then caught Saki around the ankle with his opposite hand, driving the still burning ember into the pant leg. The fabric of his trousers mostly protected the skin but Saki must have felt the burn because he cried out in pain. His hand darted down and snared Kazutaka by the collar of his jacket, jerking him roughly to his feet._

_"You little shit! Don't you get it yet? I did this for you and you appreciate NONE of it! You ungrateful-" His fist smacked hard into the younger boy's face, smashing his lips wide open and very nearly knocking a few teeth out. Kazutaka felt hot blood run down the back of his throat but it didn't feel bad at all. To the contrary, it felt good and he swallowed it eagerly. The rest he spat out into Saki's face and used the distraction to grind his fist as hard as he could into the other boys solar plexus. They were grappling on the edge of the path, the icy earth slipping beneath their feet._

_"I don't want you pitying me! There's nothing wrong with me! She says so, over and over again! I don't need you pitying us! You don't know anything about us! You're not one of us no matter what you might think!"_

_"Stop it you two! That's enough!" Oriya had appeared at their side, attempting to jam his strong arms between the quarreling boys. They were drawing dangerously close to the precipice, hence his final intervention. "Kazutaka, calm down. Your smart mouth isn't helping matters! Saki, get a grip! Let go of his head before you pop his eyeballs out like Chiclets!"_

_Saki and Kazutaka continued to struggle, lost to the rush of adrenaline, the anger and the old decaying regrets that both nursed in such abundance that until now had no outlet. They upended their pain upon each other, in one ridiculous argument over what would seem later as such a worthless exhibition._

_"Enough!" Oriya yelled and his voice held an edge of panic. His heels had been pushed to the edge of the path in their struggle. "Stop it! Stop it now! ENOUGH!"_

_It wasn't clear which boy had decided to make Oriya the first victim in the Muraki reign of blood. But in that split second where frustration and fury overruled all other thoughts of sensibility, one of those boys came close to ending his life. Which hand shoved him is still unknown. Kazutaka would later swear it was Saki. Saki would swear that it was Kazutaka. Then both would swear by the other and attempt to take the blame upon themselves to spare their half-brother the pain that the next few months of guilt and gradual decline into insanity would afford them._

_In any case, both boys bypassed that anger and whatever brief thoughts of murder they had entertained when Oriya's center of gravity tilted. The icy ground held no grip on him and that one push was enough to throw him over the edge and out of sight._

_Once he was falling, not even his phenomenal reflexes could save him. At first he plummeted only three feet and rolled down the rocky decline, his hands scrabbling desperately for some foothold that might save him. Searching but finding none. The decline cut off dramatically into the cliff face and Oriya's left foot caught between a small outcrop of rocks. Resistance to gravity lasted barely three seconds before it regained complete dominance and snapped Oriya brutally down, paying little to no attention to his snared foot. There was a sickening snap and before the pain even hit him, Oriya knew his ankle was broken. The leg, rendered useless slid through the rocks like silk and Oriya tumbled down at least ten feet. There weren't many choices in that sort of situation and he knew the only slim hope he had of surviving the fall was landing on his feet, which would certainly break his legs but possibly spare his neck. His back could also break but it was the only chance he had. Unfortunately, it was not even footing upon which he landed. It was another decline and all the weight gravity had thoughtfully divested upon him collapsed into his already broken ankle, twisting his knee out of socket, snapping both the bone there and according to X-rays taken later, wrenching the bone out of his hip and fracturing his leg in three additional places. Oriya was already deep in shock, too paralyzed by fear even to scream. He was sure he was going to die. Positive in fact. His limp body rolled down the unforgiving hill and it eventually evened out only to drop directly down into the valley floor, cushioned by even more rocks. As though Oriya hadn't had enough of them already. He could see the sky above him, blotted with clouds, smudged by dark gray around the edges. It felt almost as though he had fallen from Heaven. 'This is what it must feel like to be damned,' he remembered thinking at one point. 'When God threw the deviant angels out of Heaven, did it seem to them as though they fell forever? Did they cry as they fell like I'm doing now? Were they afraid of dying?'_

_Oriya Mibu did not want to die._

_Oriya Mibu did not want to be made a victim of such stupid circumstances._

_But though he did not die that day, something else died in his place. Something just as priceless as life itself. The loss of something so precious that he would indeed wander through the next sixteen years of his existence as a ghost. A shade of the person who he once was. The remnants of the man he could have been._

_When his fall from Heaven ended, Oriya collapsed into the valley floor of his Hell, a broken angel. This final descent sealed his fate with a wax emblem, inscribed with the Muraki family crest; the one's who had thrown him from Heaven and damned him to purgatory. His spine had shattered upon impact with the ground. Darkness meandered in and took gradual accommodation of his senses. There was pain but it was a pain so far beyond anything his threshold was capable of handling, Oriya felt barely anything at all. And as far as he was concerned, he had died that day, minutes away from the shrine which would have drawn him that much closer to ensuring the eventual unification with his soul mate._

_Kazutaka and Saki were both frozen in shock. They stared over the embankment and when they caught sight of their friends' lifeless body, Kazutaka started to scream and cry in equal measure._

_"ORIYA!" _

_"Early morning,_

_Mist rising_

_Wake me in the spring"_

I jolted out of the nightmare with every inch of my body quaking. The lamp was still on and my book lay flat on its back, my hands squashed beneath it. I must have dozed off whilst reading.

'As if it wasn't enough living through it once, now I have to dream about it,' I thought, sitting up straight in bed and setting my book on the bedside table. My leg throbbed like hell, as though the horror I attempted to exorcise in my dreams had reminded it of what had befallen me sixteen years ago. Slowly, achingly, I slid my legs over the side of the bed and set my feet upon the floor, leaning forwards and reaching up my back as far as my fingers could extend. There, the very center of my spine had snapped and serrated in half, not only falling away from each other but jamming over top of the separated bone. It was an excruciating recovery period.

I was told I would never walk again. That I should be paralyzed from the neck down, confined to a wheelchair, needing others to assist me in performing even the most basic of activities.

It was my worst nightmare. A nightmare that had cost me the dream of teaching martial arts professionally. Yet, I could only be grateful that I had proven everyone wrong. That I had spared my family the terrible grief they endured for three long years as I struggled to teach myself how to move, then walk, then run, then fight all over again.

The doctors couldn't explain it. My body had been broken in so many places, tendons shattered that it could never be repaired by medical science. And all I gave it was time and time was all it took to heal me.

Even now at age thirty-two I am still recovering. My leg would never be the same. It twinged painfully with abrupt movements and after continuous exercise it would ache and throb until it brought tears to my eyes. The medicine Yutaka had given me a week ago had eased the old wounds far better than any other formula or therapy ever had. I couldn't help but be grateful.

This night had been the first since I had met him, that I did not show my gratitude in my dreams. For seven nights, I had dreamt of making love to him. Of having him tryst beneath me, hands gentle upon my back, soothing and healing me even in that which was thought to be such a selfish, passionate act of indulgence. Night after night, my mind explored the possible variations in which I might eventually take him, the conjured sensations so powerful that I would awake to find myself in a state I had not experienced since my adolescence. Could the reality be any more satisfying than what appeared in my consciousness? The feeling of my skin against his, the rise and fall of his abdomen slapping against my own with every movement I made inside of his warm, tight body. In my dreams I'd had him in almost every way possible; thighs strung up against my chest, legs draped over my shoulders, then with his back tucked in against my torso, soft round buttocks slotted in between my thighs; each time hotter and more satisfying than the last. I couldn't say I was exactly surprised that my hormones were igniting; it had been close to three years since the last time I'd had sex or been intimate with anyone. It was clearly on my mind. Dreams take what lingers in your thoughts during the days' proceedings and enacts them during your sleep without restraint. In all honesty, I didn't spend a great deal of my time thinking about taking Yutaka Watari to bed. This is not to say that there weren't the odd occasions when I entertained that amenable prospect but I was rather old- fashioned when it came to sex and I was only ever intimate with people that I loved or felt that I may have fallen in love with. It wasn't in my nature to engage in one-night stands, or the occasional sexual exploit just to alleviate tension. Just thinking about doing so, made me curl my lip at the implied lack of morals.

And yet there I was, my sleep serenaded by thoughts of that gentle, carefree creature moaning tunelessly, thrashing in a belligerent rise and fall upon the black sheets I had selected with his fair complexion and golden hair in mind.

This worried me. This worried me at a very deep level.

By using the new rule, I had hoped to keep Yutaka closer to Kokakuro, not so much to slow down the investigation but rather so that I could be a part of whatever developments he made. I was a little beyond caring about my promise to Muraki, more concerned with finding the person who had taken my girls; my daughters, my family and disposed of their lives in such a brutal irredeemable way.

I wanted to be with Yutaka when he found who had done it. I wanted a chance to have my revenge against the villain, to redeem myself for not being there when my girls had needed me. I had never taken a life before; I am not like Muraki. I wasn't sure what I was going to do when I came face to face with those responsible. I was sure of this much though: I wanted to be there.

I wanted to be standing at Yutaka's side and be some part in dealing out the retribution they so desperately deserved.

Finding the pain from my leg to be intolerable, I forced my weary body out of the sheets and limped over to the cabinet, pulling open the top drawer and fishing my hand inside, searching for the bottle of painkillers I kept in there. Instead, my hand landed on two plastic satchels and I pulled out the samples I had taken from Yutaka's medical bag. I opened the drawer and glanced down at the three sealed containers, which held the semen extractions. In my hand, the bags held two skin scrapings from beneath Karu and Seki's fingernails.

A spear of guilt punched through the pit of my stomach. Though I had never taken a life, I was guilty of crime and sin nonetheless. Time and time again I had pervaded the course of justice, to protect Muraki. To protect a killer guilty of the most atrocious crimes.

I felt guilty every single damn day. But I kept doing it anyway. I did it because I vowed to protect Muraki, as repentance for failing him those many years ago. It was through my hand indirectly that one of my closest and dearest friends had the means through which to destroy the family that had accepted him, when he had nothing else left and in no direction to turn.

But enough was enough. This was too close to home and I couldn't bear to imagine the look on Yutaka's face when he realized what I had done; all for the sake of allowing Muraki the chance to seduce the friend whom had requested his protection before Kyoto fell to his responsibilities. The very thought of that warm and cheerful mouth wilting and those eyebrows knifing in, betrayal shaping the light, bubbly features… Well, it didn't make me sick to the stomach exactly but it made me feel uncomfortable to say the very least. I didn't think I would be able to tolerate him being angry with me.

I put the satchels back in the drawer and retrieved the bottle of painkillers, unscrewing the cap and popping two of the white capsules between my teeth, limping toward the adjoining bathroom where I washed them down with a mouthful of water. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, at my cold and distant expression.

When had I become so comfortable in that guise? I hardly ever smiled any more; my face just wasn't particularly warm to look at. I seemed so serious and withdrawn most of the time.

It wasn't difficult for Yutaka. The fact that I referred to him by his given name not only in my address to him but also in my thoughts should have been some indication as to my changing feelings for the exuberant Guardian. Long before the murders, Kokakuro had been dark and secluded from the rest of the world. I was alone but not necessarily lonely. It had been three years since I had been intimate with anyone but I didn't particular mind. I was content in that state of rigidity. Like the Hanged Man of the Tarot Cards, I was locked in suspension between life and death. Unmoving, swaying by the end of a rope for all eternity.

And then suddenly, in comes this bright and vivacious force that not only invited light but carried it everywhere he stepped. Shadows seemed to run from him, the night that would oppress on all sides of a person, couldn't so much as touch him. Inviting Yutaka Watari into our world had been as effective as changing a burnt out light bulb and replacing it with something that was even stronger and brighter then what had been there to begin with. Try as anyone might, it was impossible to be subjugated in his presence. Every single day he had worked hard at not only his job but he put in one-hundred and ten percent at his disguise occupation, serving, admitting customers, chatting with the girls, helping them get ready in the evening and subtly assisting me in the kitchen when he thought I wasn't paying attention or figured he could get away with it. Since I had been giving him space, I attempted to keep our conversations to a minimal necessity but he found ways of expressing his remorse in non-verbal methods. Once, I had left the kitchen to talk to a guest and I came back to find that the dish I had been preparing already completed with even the additional garnishes. Yoshi told me later that Yutaka had rushed to do it the second my back was turned. And though I pretended not to notice, I knew very well that his eyes would remain on me just that little bit longer during dinner.

He was a gentle yet powerful presence, demanding attention and at the same time, understanding his place well and alternating between the nurturing older brother figure, to the guest and employee at a moment's notice. The girls adored him. Yoshi and Mrs. Koneko promised to disown me if I happened to misplace him. Akemi threatened to downright bury me upside down in the garden if didn't give him a fair chance.

What none of them understood however, was that my attraction to Yutaka had at first been nothing that could be described as something so serious. I was performing the task that Muraki asked of me and fond of him though I had become, it would be with no great difficulty that I would bid the guardian goodbye once the case was complete.

I had determined such thoughts at least four days ago.

Then I happened to overhear Yutaka and Akemi talking.

I was on my way to the front desk to go over the client register when I passed by the dining area, where only minutes earlier we had concluded a meal. Through the gap in the door, I heard Mrs. Koneko and Akemi assuring Yutaka that he needn't worry helping clean up the mess.

"Never you mind with that, it's what I'm here to do! You wouldn't want to put an old woman out of her job now, would you?" Mrs. Koneko said teasingly.

Yutaka laughed. "Don't go using such a blatant guilt trip on me, Mrs. Koneko! Saying you're old when you know damn well that it hasn't got a ring of truth to it. Now, I'm sure you couldn't object to me taking one or two dishes off of your hands now, could you?"

"There, you see? They do raise them charming in Osaka!" Mrs. Koneko exclaimed in a fluttery, girly giggle of a voice very unlike her. I could hear Akemi tutting.

"Look, darl, it's like this: You don't need to go to this much work to get on Oriya's good side. He gets in blue funks like this occasionally. Don't you worry, he'll come out of it when he's good and ready."

I had risked a glance into the room. Yutaka was holding a plate to his chest, possibly smearing the remains of what still adorned it across his uniform. Oh, joys of dry-cleaning.

"Well… I hope you're right, Miss Akemi. I've been driving myself mad thinking about what I must have done." He smiled brightly at her and then set the plate down suddenly and darted forward taking her hands in his. "I guess I've just been in the way but I really can't help myself! I always go all out to try and get a smile from people I like. Maybe I'm just making a nuisance of myself…" He concluded with a slight blush. Akemi smiled and pulled one hand free to pet his cheek.

"You're a nice kid. And you're not in the way; so don't think for a second that anyone here finds you a nuisance. It's been more than a delight inviting someone like you into our household. When you're not looking, Beau smiles. Just being around someone sweet like you is enough to make anyone happy, even that gloomy bastard."

Yutaka smiled shyly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the floor. "I don't think he's gloomy at all. Oriya… he's deep. I guess there's a lot on his mind, too much for a scatterbrain like me to comprehend." He laughed softly and rested his hands on his chest, eyes half lidded serenely. "He makes me so happy."

"He makes us all happy," Akemi conceded, reaching out to set both her palms on either side of Watari's blushing features. "Even at his most difficult. We would die to protect him and he would die for us. Oriya's only true fault is the company that he keeps."

I knew that she spoke of Muraki. She had met Muraki and had never warmed to him. Akemi had a slight sixth sense and admitted to finding something about my oldest friend to be 'slightly off.' She was never afraid to come right out and say what she thought and I trusted her intuition completely. Often I would sway my friendships and close confidences depending on her opinion. I found going against her judgment was often a mistake, though I, too, had a rather strong psychic sense. It was with this ability that we had been able to read people like Yutaka Watari. And it was why we felt so good in his presence. He had a wonderfully warm and gentle aura. A feeling that eased our senses.

"Yutaka…" Akemi had said, her gentle touch enquiring his attention rather than forcing it. "You would be wonderful for Oriya. You're a lovely person… I think you'd be a good influence on him. I know it's only early days but I like you a great deal and seeing what you have done for Oriya, I can only ask that you will try to be close to him. It's true that he may be a little difficult to get along with at times. He can be moody and he doesn't laugh much… but we love him with everything we have. Give us…and him… a reason to love you the same way."

Yutaka touched her hand, his lips drawn into a thin, tired smile. "Miss Akemi… nothing would make me happier but to try. I just get the feeling that he may not like me all that much. I think I might have done something to hurt him. He… may resent that."

Akemi smirked. "Hun… all Oriya resents in the world is people who hurt those that he cares for. He's a big boy. And I know that he would find it very difficult to hold a grudge against someone like you. He may not show it, but he's got a soft side. If in doubt just pull off that big, dopey smile of yours and he'll melt like cheap ice-cream."

"If I can get a smile out of him in return, it'll be enough." The blond declared spunkily.

That night I hadn't dreamed about having sex with him. It was instead replaced with the more sedate and intimate of images. Of making love to him.

I was a goner and I knew it.

Every day his cuteness seemed to intensify, to the point where I wanted to grab a hold of him and squeeze him like a big teddy bear. I was easily distracted by the images of crumbs upon his lips, by the movement of his body when he walked, of his intense sprightly nature. Nothing could bring him down. And at the same time I admired his professionalism. He worked diligently for hours at a time, often foregoing meals when he thought he had made leeway on the case. He made sure to include me with every new development, though there were no major breakthroughs at this point. I nodded and pretended that I understood whilst my mind was occupied with images of the way his legs might keel up off of the bed sheets when he came, whether he would be as noisy during intercourse, as he was during his day-to-day activities. I was beginning to really want it, too, not so much the sex but rather the look in his eyes after the commencement of the act, his fingers running down my face, a tender kiss into his palm, our hair mixing together in shades of honey blond and chocolate brown. He was innocence and yet, there was no innocence to be had. His cheeky nature and flirtatious manner invited sex but he was gingerbread soft to the touch and though the thought of harmlessly fucking him did have its appeals, I found myself continuously more enamored with the notion of having him in my arms and being borne within him on a wave of simple, tender motion.

For the first time in three years, I found a reason to reject my peaceful solidarity. I wanted to be with him. I wanted intimacy, someone to confide in, someone to care for and experience all that I gave in return.

It was with these thoughts in mind that I rang Muraki.

I finally reached him on his cell and when he answered he sounded somewhat out of breath though not annoyed.

"What do you want, Oriya?"

I curled my lip. "That's some way to greet your oldest and dearest friend."

"My apologies. What can I do for you this fine eleven-thirty p.m, Oriya my oldest and dearest friend?"

"I don't think I can do this any more." I said, planting my hand over my face and wishing that my voice wouldn't infraction so. I didn't want to drag it out any longer than was completely necessary. "Muraki… I don't want to hinder this investigation anymore then I have already. The case is proceeding slowly and I sincerely doubt that my intervention would make the slightest difference at this point. I think it's time to call this off."

He was silent for quite some time and when he spoke I was expecting him to level some meager threat at me or at least negotiate a change in my decision to affluently rescind on my ultimatum. To my surprise, it was nothing of the sort.

"If that is your decision, then I respect that, Oriya." He stated, sounding almost sincere. I was stunned by how easy it was to have him comply. "I understand that this case was very close to you to begin with and if you are no longer comfortable delaying the course of justice, then I have no objections to the annulment of our arrangement."

"Well… thank you." I said; a little disappointed that it hadn't evolved into one of our many verbal sparring matches, like it may have in the old days. I was starting to think Muraki didn't care any more. "In that case… I'll put some of the samples back tonight then give it another day or so before I return the rest. I would be better off returning them bit by bit… it would look suspicious if they all turned up at the same time."

"As though that imperceptive blond would make the connection. Just assert your looks and draw his attention elsewhere, if he appears to be over-rationalizing things."

I was offended on Yutaka's behalf, to hear Muraki simply assume that he was so focused on visual pleasures that his work would take backseat. It may have had a ring of truth to it, but it's not exactly a tactful factor to bring to light. But Muraki could never be accused of being tactful.

"Just one question;" he said, before I could speak a word in defense of my current employee. "What dramatic event could have occurred that would inspire you to ring me at such a god forsaken hour?" He spoke coolly, voice masked by the ruffling of sheets in the background. This had perturbed me at the time but by now of course I realize that he had been in the midst of making old Violet Eyes' bed. It still makes me grin to think of Kazutaka Muraki becoming domesticated. "Surely you could have made this announcement at some point tomorrow… you only ever call up at arbitrary times of the night when there's something playing on your mind. Is there another reason why you don't want to continue on with our arrangement and please, spare me the discomfort if it is what I think it might possibly be."

I sat down heavily on the floor, favoring my throbbing leg and nursing the cordless between my shoulder and chin. "I'm not sure what you're thinking of, Muraki, but then again, when have I ever had that privilege?" I paused, not really expecting a rebuttal for my unintentional jibe, more concerned with whether or not I should have been honest with the man. I figured it wasn't anything to be embarrassed about, since it had been at Muraki's insistence that I open up to the blond in the first place. "I'm falling for him."

Muraki groaned loudly and I had a very good idea it was because I had confirmed his suspicions.

"So I feared." He concluded wearily. "That was exactly what I had been concerned with, Oriya, thank you. You are so predictably banal."

"What on earth do you mean by that?" I growled from between clenched teeth. I hated when he used words that he thought I didn't understand. He had a bad habit of attempting to humble me in the most facetious and arrogant ways. Usually by showing off that University intellect which I had been unable to acquire as a result of my accident. Which had been more than in part, his fault.

"You've always tended to settle for less than what you are worth," Muraki explained, as though I were two years old and needed a step-by-step walkthrough. "Every one of your romantic partners hasn't exactly been stunning. With your looks, your power, your prestige you're deserving of much more."

"I've never wanted 'much more' than what I was fortunate enough to have." I growled. This was never one of my favorite conversation topics. I got it from my sisters from time to time but Muraki was the worst by far. "I've been lucky to love genuine people, even if they weren't of 'superstar' quality. And wasn't it you who encouraged me to flirt with Yutaka in the first place?"

"Flirt with not fall in love with, you intellectually barren moron!" Muraki snapped in an exasperated tone. "I don't know why I am bothering to explain this to a man who is so far gone that he already refers to someone he has known barely a week by his given name. How intimate have you been with him? I hope you'll invite me to the wedding, which by the rate you're going should be any day now!"

"I don't know why I bother talking to you." I growled, my fingers tightening on the phone until the plastic covering nearly snapped beneath my nails. "Obviously I'm keeping you from something important, so I won't waste any more of your time. I just thought you should know that I'm hereby going to do all in my power to help this case move along as quickly as possible. You're on your own now. Good luck getting old Violet Eyes into bed. I'll call you again in a couple of days' time."

"Oriya," He said sternly, just as I was about to abort the call. "Do me one last favor, my friend. All I ask is that you look after yourself. Don't let your heart drag you between that guardian and whatever danger he faces. You might come off worse for it."

"Thanks for the advice. Under no ordinary circumstance would I think of that myself, Muraki. Thank God I have you around to keep me from acting like a total ignoramus. Goodbye." And thus I hung up vindictively.

I couldn't believe the nerve of him. After the mess he had made of his life, he had the audacity to belittle my emotions and to belittle the quality of the people that I have been with. I was hoping for a smidgen of something resembling guidance, though deep down I knew Muraki was undoubtedly the worst person I could have turned to for that sort of thing. I would have been better off talking to some random codger on the street. Some random codger would have been preferable come to think of it. And the advice I received couldn't have been any worse.

Still, Muraki had been unusually agreeable to the imminent annulment of the deal that we had made. Something must have happened, to put him in such a sprightly mood. Something involving this 'one that he loved.' Bloody hypocrite… To boast that he was above the juvenile concept of love, to demean anyone who believed in it and then to invoke it when it suited him. It was so typical. Muraki had always been such a confusing person. Even knowing him as long as I had, until this very day I am still trying to figure him out.

But I couldn't be bothered with such perplexing issues that night. Muraki was the least of my concerns for once. This should have come as a great shock to me but what was even more alarming, was the fact that I cared not of this change in perspective. Angry though I was with the man, my emotions could only be brought so low before they were elevated by the knowledge that I had alleviated the situation, which had imposed such great tension upon me. I was now free to return the samples I had stolen. I couldn't very well come right out and tell Yutaka that I had taken them initially, not particularly keen on enduring the end results of such a confession. It would simply be a matter of sneaking them back into his medical kit when he and the Gushoshin weren't looking.

Elated by the prospect of finally freeing myself from the burden of guilt, I retrieved the semen samples first, intending to return and get the skin scrapings the day after, to preserve the possibility of chance. As I had previously mentioned to Muraki, it would appear decidedly suspicious if the missing samples all happened to turn up in one big clump on the same day. Once I had tucked the containers safely away into my pocket, I left my room and made my way over towards the neighboring door, trying to formulate some method in order to remove both Yutaka and Gushoshin from the room so that I could return the samples without hindrance. I decided at the last minute that I would send them off to investigate 'some disturbance', using the available time to return the containers to the kit.

There was no light on in Yutaka's room so I knocked extra loudly, thinking that he might have fallen asleep. I wasn't overtly concerned by the darkness. Maybe he was working on the computer and found it easier to focus on the screen with the light off.

"Yutaka, Mr. Gushoshin? I was wondering if I might have a word?" When there was no reply, I took it upon myself to enter the room, stepping into awaiting shadow. Fortunately, my eyesight was sharpened considerably as a result of my advanced senses and I was able to make out the various details of the room with embarrassing ease. The computer was switched off, the medical case propped up beside it and tilting its weight against the leg of the low table. Yutaka's suitcase was lying open, his odds and ends spread out in a jumbled fan across the floor. I tried not to stare out of respect but it was difficult to avert my eyes away from the rather eccentric and admittedly sexy underwear that lay strewn about, most of which looked composed of little more than string and lace. I had admittedly been shocked earlier by the sight of his visible thong straps; believing that to be a one-off occurrence that I could become accustomed to. However, from the number of g-strings I inadvertently took account of, it would seem that he wore them on an almost every day basis. My lips quirked up in coordination with my thoughts, pleasantly surprised by this new sexy side Yutaka had unintentionally revealed to me and I could only help but imagine how he might have looked standing before me wearing one of those skimpy things alone, that coy, coquettish expression beckoning me ever closer… It took quite a bit of mental persuasion to negotiate my thoughts into returning to the issue at hand and for a minute after, I couldn't wipe the smirk off of my face. It was shameful really; a man in his thirties, behaving like an adolescent sifting through his girlfriend's underwear.

One of the futons, Yutaka's, was empty and from the rigid arrangements of the sheets, looked as though it hadn't been disturbed for at least a day. The second futon was occupied by the snoozing Gushoshin, who snorted something random in his sleep and rolled over, cuddling up close to an empty saké bottle as though it were a teddy bear. I forced my laughter down and inched silently through the dark room towards the medical kit, prying it open delicately and placing the tiny sealed containers underneath some various odds and ends. With any luck, Yutaka would think that he had missed them, his poor eyesight hopefully contributing to the feasibility of this excuse. It was after I had clicked the kit shut that I started to wonder where, in fact, the blond Guardian was. He said he had a lot of work to be doing and yet, nothing in the room was disturbed. Computer was off; notes and papers were piled neatly to one side of the workstation. At first I thought he might have wrapped up only moments ago and was waiting for me in my room as promised but I had just come from there. There was no chance he could have avoided running into me in the hallway. Even if he turned invisible, I would have been able to sense him.

Wondering if he was checking out the room where the murders had occurred or if he had wandered into the kitchen for a snack, I rose to my feet intending to go and find him, so I could set my curiosity at ease. But I never got the chance. The sound of a bell tingling drew my attention from my current task and I sensed a pressure escalating from deep inside of my body. It was a not all-together familiar feeling but it was not a foreign sensation either. My sixth perception was becoming active; I could intuit something else in the room. Something that bore no material presence in this realm.

On the right side of the room stood the walk-in wardrobe and I suspected that the source of the sound, not to mention the instigator of my perception lay just beyond the sliding door. I stepped up to it, paying close attention to the beats of my heart. A highly erratic beat would inform me that I was closing in on the presence, as well as a cold chill that seemed to stroke my spine from top to tailbone. The insides of my elbows itched. The hair on my forearms was poised as I slid my hand into the notch cut of the wooden door and tugged it open, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The closet was completely empty; Yutaka must have been keeping all of his clothes in his suitcase, I reasoned. Or otherwise, on the floor surrounding his suitcase.

I sighed, telling myself not to get so worked up over fictional boogeymen and went to pull the door shut. As the paneling started to slide out from the wall a painful, icy sensation suddenly snapped around my wrist, like a manacle. The numbing cold shot so deep I felt it in the depths of my bones. I brought my eyes around, uttering a surprised cry as I saw the source of the touch. A pale, feminine hand reaching out from the darkness, gray fingernails digging through the skin of my wrist, to hold me tight. I clearly heard the bell tingle again.

"Oriya…" Came a voice from seemingly nowhere, followed by a frightful cry of pain, which can only be compared to a woman in mortal agony. "Please… please help him…"

I couldn't take my eyes off of the hand that held me. The ashen, transparent arm that stretched out of the closet, with only darkness at its root.

"Who?" A shrill high pitched octave, akin almost to the sound one experiences during a hangover, assaulted my brain and I cried out, darting my gaze to and fro around the empty room, now filled with the voices of what sounded like a dozen people, moaning in pain. "Who's there?"

The pain took leave of my senses, but the voices continued their onslaught, apparently heard by me alone. The Gushoshin slept on, unconcerned. As I straightened up, fingers pressed to my throbbing temple, I came face-to-face with none other than Seki. It was her arm that held me. She, like it, was transparent. I could see the wall of the closet through her. The cause of her death remained however, like some cruel joke. Blood streamed from a thick, horizontal slash in her neck. Blood that never fell and never clotted. I could feel my stomach seizing up, my brain threatening to cave in on itself. This wasn't the first time I had seen a _yurei_ but it was the first time ever I had encountered the ghost of someone I had known and loved in life.

Seki didn't appear as perturbed by her condition as I was. "Oriya… protect him…" It was her voice, but her mouth didn't move. "In my place… please…"

"Seki…?" I said, voice shaking. "No… no that's not possible! My darling… you died!" I didn't even stop to consider that this probably wasn't the most tactful thing to say.

The sound of spirits moaning intensified, capped off by some suitably eerie laughter. It was disturbing, but I wasn't necessarily frightened by it. What frightened me was what came after; loud, even amidst the cries of the deceased, who for some reason, had decided that Kokakuro might have been the IN place to hang at that very moment. The sound of Yutaka in pain. He was fighting someone… no, there were more people – a group of them. He was frightened and he was having a hard time moving. He was calling my name… he wanted me… _needed _me there.

"Yutaka!" My senses went into overdrive as I turned my eyes back towards my once employee, who had released my arm and was floating softly out of the closet, dressed in the same clothes that she had been killed in. "Seki! Seki… is he in trouble? Is that why you're here?"

Seki gazed at me solemnly, her expression unchanging. The bell tingled again.

"Please… help him… in my place…"

I wasn't sure what she meant by those words and only later did they make sense to me. Faced with the ghost of someone I had loved, I found that this even held no sway over my thoughts. All I could think of was Yutaka. Somewhere out there, hurt, frightened and needing me. I reasoned that Seki must have known that. She had always been the type who would find some way to protect the gentle people who were in need of help. In death, it seemed that nothing had changed.

"Where is he, Seki?" I asked, tightening my yukata cord around my waist. "Can you show me?"

"He's this way…" She whispered without hesitation and with one finger extended to indicate her intentions she started to walk away through the open door into the darkness of the hallway. "If you trace the sound of my bell… it will take you to the one who loved me most…"  
"So you're leading me to…" She was already gone, long before I could finish my question and I was left with no other choice but to chase after her, my thoughts in a tangle as mattered as the cross over compilation of yarn. '_Dammit, why did you have to leave Kokakuro?' _I internally scolded the blond, praying that the painkillers would kick in soon. My leg was giving me hell for the strain I was putting on it. My anxiety quickly changed to anger at Yutaka, for disobeying the instructions I had delivered to him a little over an hour ago. Did he think I made these rules for fun? '_I'll beat you to within an inch of your afterlife if you're in any state to endure it, you little beast!' _

I heard Seki's soothing voice wash over me, even though her specter had long since vanished. The tingle of her bell was the only thing leading me on. That and her voice.

" Please don't be angry at him…" She enquired, as I burst through into the foyer, darting through spiels of moonlight that managed to slide in through the gaps of the window shades. "He couldn't be angry at anyone… not ever… for anything…"

'_Who was Seki to you, Yutaka Watari?' _I wondered, as I motored towards the front door, hearing the bell signal to me from the other side. I stepped into my shoes and pushed through the door, out into the night. '_You have a lot to answer for, if she can call you the one who loved her most… _"Seki! Where are you going?" For I had emerged outside of Kokakuro's entrance, into the dark street beyond. For some time, there was no answer to my question and I was starting to think that I had taken a wrong turn when I distinctly heard the tinkle of the bell to my left. I chased after it, staying close to the outside wall of Kokakuro, being guided by Seki's gentle voice the entire time. It was malleable and tenuous, like the gentle breeze of a summer night. The farther we moved however, the softer her tone came. As though she were fading away.

"Seki…" She mused happily and I was forced to strain my ears in order to catch the lessened dust of her words. "I love that name… Seki… He told me I was his beloved… that he would die for me… He kept his promise… That's why I was able to come to be here… with everyone… with you…"

My steps faltered and I looked up at the sky, even though there was no specific direction from which Seki was addressing me.

"Seki… what are you trying to say? How do you know Yutaka Watari!" I was met only with silence and I felt my desperation increase. I was sick and tired of suspecting and knowing nothing! "Dammit, Seki, answer me!"

"Don't stop… every second you delay, something terrible happens…" Her sweet voice urged me back into a run. "He's this way… Come…"

"Seki…" There were tears running down my face as I ran. They streamed out behind me like rain from the soul's source. "I don't know how this is possible… But if I've been given a second chance then I want you to hear it now. Listen, baby… I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you! I couldn't…" My words were cut through by a sob ripping raw from the depths of my chest like a hidden knife blade, serrating through my heart. "I couldn't protect you! I failed all over again, just like I failed Saki and Kazutaka…"

"… I'm so fortunate…." Seki sighed, her voice sounding as though it were calling over a great distance. "I've been loved my whole life… But I'm not the one who needs you now…"

The wall opened up into Kokakuro's garage and I was surprised to see my motorbike sitting outside the locked folding doors. I was positive that I had chained it up inside the last time I had used it. Now it was perched up on its stand, facing the road as though preparing to take off at any second. My helmet perched stoically upon the leather seat, like a substitute driver. The keys glistened from beneath the handlebars, awaiting a mere simple twist to activate the faithful machine into action.

"At the place where I met the one whom spelt my death… he's there now and my fate will befall him. If you think you failed once… swear now not to fail again… _Ra's Sunline… _Hurry!" The bell tinkled once more and Seki's voice slowly, achingly trailed away to nothing. My chest hurt badly, the weight of my emotions settling unevenly upon the expanse of my heart. "Hurry… Oriya…"

"Seki… Forgive me…" I whispered, wiping at the tears on my face. Now seemed to be the time designated for my long-awaited period of mourning but I could not give it credence even now, not when Watari was apparently in danger. I straightened my spine and then, mustering every spare inch of strength that resided in my body, swung my leg over the bike and put on my helmet. "I won't let the same thing happen again… Yutaka… you'd better hope you're in good shape, so that I can kick your sorry ass myself…" It was on that positive note that I gunned the engine and took off down the road, praying to every entity under the sun that I wasn't about to lose another person who I'd allowed into both my home and my heart.

**Watari**

_Ra's Sunline _was the kind of bar that I found very comfortable. It wasn't your typical nightclub; most of the patrons were in their late twenties, early thirties, with nary a teenager in sight. It was a compact, cozy atmosphere; crowded but familial. I liked it a lot.

Liked it so much in fact, that I had honored it by shooting back a couple of beers. Having grown up in the generation of 'the Six o'clock swill,' I was used to knocking back my drinks fairly quickly and I didn't think much of it at the time. When it came to my attention that I was, in fact, steadily progressing into the stage of intoxication, I took it as a sign to slow down and start actually collecting the information that I originally came for.

Though beer wasn't the only thing distracting me from work, I will admit.

"You know, this has been fun." Said the young man sitting across from me, leaning his cheek against the ball of his fist and smiling genuinely. Kenyle was tall and good looking with dark hair and eyes, wearing a business suit with the tie hanging loose. He reminded me a little of Tsuzuki and not just in appearance either. "Are you sure you don't want to go somewhere more private? It's hard to get to know someone with all this ruckus in the background."

I flashed him a sunny smile, firmly instructing myself not to accept that request, no matter how appealing it was. There was only one person's bed I wanted to be in that night… and it's a credit to how much I'd had to drink when I realized that I couldn't even recall the name of that bed's owner.

"Ordinarily, I would take you up on that, but, unfortunately…"

"Ah…" Kenyle said, smiling good-naturedly. "This is where you give me the polite brush off, right? Guess I'm not your type…"

I laughed just that little too loudly and put a hand on his arm. Geez, give me a couple of drinks and I'm anyone's. "Didn't you hear what I said? I said '_ordinarily_' I would take you up on that, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that these aren't exactly ordinary times for me…"

Kenyle was a nice guy. He didn't seem to feel overtly rejected by anything I would say and likewise, didn't pressure me to lean things in his favor. Seems Kyoto is where they have been hiding all of the gentleman.

"Boyfriend, right?"

I could feel my face going a little red and turned away from Kenyle's knowing smile, trying to pretend as though I was hypnotically drawn towards the pearl onion in my drink. In reality, such an object could only effectively captivate my attention for five to eight seconds, depending on the onion.

"I'm… not really sure how to put it…" I confessed, in all honesty wanting nothing more than to just leap on top of the table, grab a conveniently well-placed megaphone and shout it out for all Kyoto to hear: 'I'VE BEEN DOIN' LOVEY MUSHY STUFF WITH ORIYA AND YOU HAVEN'T!' But, I'm not the type of guy who likes to brag. I don't get off on boasting my achievements. "Let's just say I have hopes for it."

Kenyle smiled and carefully traced the rim of his glass with his fingertips, spinning it around on the coaster upon which it was set. "Well, good luck with that. Can't say I'm not a little disappointed though…" He sighed dramatically and then spoke in a voice of esoteric over exaggeration. I could tell because he made a big show of dropping his lip. "And I thought for sure that you were the chosen man from my dreams, too…"

My eloquent response was a nervous giggle, which goes to show that even us genius scientists can be caught out sometimes. "I think you can do a little better than me, mate. Just some friendly advice."

Kenyle laughed self-mockingly and smiled at me. He really did have a beautiful smile. Straight teeth, warm, approachable. That was the reason I had chosen to speak to him, though admittedly it was him that had originally approached me. I guess I made a good show of downing my last pint. Works wonders at bars. Better than hashing out a pick up line. Just ask Tsuzuki. He's the King of drinking and despite my hearty attempts over the years; I just never seem to reach that same drunken level of euphoria. You would think I deserved to, taking my tremendous hangovers into account.

"So, how long are you planning on staying in Kyoto?" Kenyle asked, breaking through my thoughts.

I was playing absentmindedly with the straw in my drink, most of my attention fixed on the rather handsome guy before me. "Well, I'm here on business… so as long as it takes to wrap up that business, I suppose you could say."

Kenyle glanced up and folded his fingers neatly, abandoning his drink for the time being in order to designate his attention fully on me. It was very flattering to be subject to such resolute interest. Oriya had made it something of a habit to delegate his focus completely toward me whenever we spoke and Kenyle appeared to be cut from a very similar cloth. Once I had tiptoed upon a topic that was of some interest to him.

"You don't say? What sort of business are you into?" He asked, ignoring a clump of his bangs that swayed into his right eye.

I smiled lightly as I took the liberty to brush back his hair for him. He seemed a little surprised by my touch. "Call it missing persons, if you will." I answered.

"Ah, so you're looking for someone. Not the boyfriend is it?" He questioned, in a teasing faux-hopeful-tone-of-voice, which brought out another smile in me.

"That guy couldn't stay lost even if he tried!" I exclaimed, chuckling at the image of Oriya attempting to hide from me. It would most certainly be met with failure, as there was no nook in earth, Heaven, Hell or Hades that could keep such a hottie concealed from me. Especially if I was sending out Ichibana to track him down. "No, I'm actually looking for these girls." This was my prompt to reveal the pictures I'd been keeping safe in my inside jacket pocket. I held them out for Kenyle's inspection and indicated to them one by one accordingly. "Karu, Seki and Terumi… You mentioned that you frequent here… You wouldn't be able to tell me if you remember seeing them in here a little over a week ago, could you?"

Kenyle looked at the pictures one by one, paying deliberate, positive attention as is common amongst people half stewed. "Yeah… I know these girls all right." He said at last. I perked up immediately, thinking that this outing might not have been a bust after all. "They're really sweet… especially that one." And whom, of course, did he happen to be pointing at? None other than Seki. I delegated a sharp pang of guilt in my stomach to be experienced at a later date and was on the verge of asking my next question when Kenyle plucked Seki's picture out of my hand and started to look from my face to hers in such rapid dictation that I immediately knew he had spotted it.

Sure enough, seconds later:

"You know…" He mused, holding the picture up next to my face. "You look a little like her… say is that the reason you're searching for her? You her long lost brother or somethin?"

Her brother… well, I could see how he had come to that conclusion. I tried not to appear rude as I snatched the pictures back, but there really was no other way of doing so without looking like a complete asshole. To his credit however, Kenyle said nothing of my abrupt burst of discourtesy.

"Sorry, babe, but that's confidential info you're asking." I remarked lightheartedly and then quickly averted the subject before he thought to ask me anything else. "Do you remember seeing them in here or…?"

"Actually… now that you mention it… yeah, a little over a week ago I was in here, having a drink with a couple of friends…" Kenyle interjected, tilting his glass up against his lips and draining the dark liquid within down into the depths of his throat. "I saw those girls come in. Everyone knows who they are."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

Kenyle set down his drink and rested his elbow against the table, setting his cheek atop the uneven rise of his ridged fist as he regarded me thoughtfully. "Well, come on… they're Kokakuro girls. The place is infamous. Can't say I ever fancied goin' there myself. No money and as you can probably tell, I'm not exactly into girls." He chuckled self-mockingly, running the gnawed nubs of his fingernails over his skin. I noticed a faint blush rising up from the underside of his cheek, the pink hue contrasting agreeably with his dark skin. "Heard that the guy who runs the place is quite the hottie, though… a lot of people go just to see him."

This made me smile, when I thought of how anti-social Oriya was, how closed off from the world and secure he was in his own privacy. I wondered what he would think if he had any idea that half of his male customers were actually there to oogle him and not his girls? I wouldn't have been surprised if this came as something of a shock to him.

"Oriya Mibu, right?" It was hard to wipe the smirk off of my face. Just thinking about Oriya made me a giggling girly twit.

Kenyle pointed a finger at me from around his glass. "See? Even a visitor like you knows of him. He's about as infamous as his girls. Doesn't come out much but he takes care of those little ladies when they need him." He paused as though something had just come to mind, wriggling his glass to and fro as the noises in the background seemed to increase in the lulled atmosphere of our conversation. "I heard about this particular occasion where they were being roughed up by a couple of guys when leaving here. Before the Bouncer could lift a finger, there's Mibu, tearing out of the darkness like a dog and he takes those dudes out. Put them in the hospital from what I heard and as soon as they could walk, they left Kyoto." He shook his head in awe and took a token sip of his drink. "It certainly leaves an impact on ya… meetin' the Wolf of Mibu."

This name snagged my attention, as nothing else had that evening. There was something vaguely familiar about that honorific, a memory that longed to be recognized. It was all but leaping about in pink spandex, singing Ave Maria whilst dancing the Cha-Cha to gain my attention but for the life of me, I couldn't thread the connection between point A and B.

"That's what they call him?" I asked, intrigued further by my lapse in acumen. Kenyle slapped his drink down and edged closer to me, eyes bright with excitement. It was then I realized the obvious; Oriya was an enigma of Kyoto. People recognized that there was something unusual about him and it intrigued and attracted them. Only, he screened himself off from the rest of the world, which only increased the fatal allure tenfold. It didn't help matters that he was gorgeous to boot.

"Hell, yeah!" Kenyle exclaimed, in reference to my question. "If you could see the guy in action… it's unbelievable! His speed, his movements… it makes the rest of us look like we're standing still!" He took another sip of his drink and then waved his hand in an apologetic manner. "Sorry, I got a little sidetracked there. You were asking me if I saw the girls. Yeah, I saw them but I only looked up when they came in. I didn't see 'em leave or nothing. I met someone cute that night and all my attention was focused on them. Bit like now." Another blush navigated its way across his face and he laughed broadly at his own gall. I had to smile. It was nice have someone consider you attractive, even if it was only a side effect of the excessive drink. "You know… if you want to find out who they left with, you should talk to the boss." He gestured over towards the bar with one abrupt jerk of his thumb. I looked over at the elderly bartender, currently serving drinks to an attractive couple possibly in their early thirties. "He runs the place as well as working the bar. Mibu knows him. Told him to keep an eye on his girls whenever they came in. Failing that, the Bouncers might be able to help. They took good care of the girls, too."

"Thanks, think I will!" I said, finishing my drink with flourish and climbing rather unsteadily to my feet. Kenyle reached over to steady me, wrapping his fingers around my inside elbow and squeezing slightly. He smiled charmingly and for a moment I almost regretted my fanatical crush on Oriya. Almost. "Thank you for all your help, Kenyle. Oh… and for the drink!" I added with a cheeky wink.

"Wait… hold up a sec…" I watched patiently as Kenyle released my arm and retrieved a pen from his jacket pocket, using it to scribble his number on a serviette, which he then jammed into my hand. "That's my mobile number… in case you need to contact me again. Or you know… in the off chance that fellow of yours won't have ya…"

I smiled as I tucked the serviette into my pocket, thinking privately to myself that if Oriya hadn't been at the focus of my attentions, I would have called Kenyle the very next day. He was one of the kindest, most genuine guys I had ever met. Not to mention incredibly easy on the eyes.

"Well, aren't you sweet… thank you!" I fluted, giving Kenyle a brief squeeze, which he attempted to prolong for longer than I was comfortable allowing. I might have been tempted to go with him, considering the state I was in, but I wasn't prepared to compromise my position with Oriya in the slightest. So, it was with much regret that I extracted myself from his hold and turned in the direction of the bar, waving over my shoulder at my cute drinking companion.

"Take care now!" I instructed.

"Seeya later!" Kenyle said, waving happily, though he appeared somewhat morose at our parting. I smiled to myself in a most smug manner as I made my way up to the bar, purposefully swaying my hips as I walked. So, I couldn't help but be a tease.

"Hey!" I called brightly, twinkling my fingers at the bartender. He smiled in return to my greeting and set down the glass he had been cleaning.

"So, what can I get ya, blondie?" He asked, in an accent almost as distinct as my own. I was positively delighted.

"Beer! Beer's the word!" I exclaimed, perching myself upon one of the bar stools and slapping the bar top loutishly. One of my favorite modern dance numbers started to play and couples were hitting the floor in a variety of creative and not so creative displays of aesthetic body jiggling appreciation. It was a shame I couldn't have indulged in any of that myself. Truth be told, I'm not much of a dancer. Not that it stops me from getting out there and enjoying myself to the maximum! I loved dancing with Tsuzuki, especially after the guy knocked a few back. He was a surprisingly exceptional dancer and seemed to get better the more that he drank. I sighed, twirling a strand of hair around on my finger and wondering how my sweet-natured friend was getting along. He sounded unhappy over the phone…

The barkeep interrupted my thoughts by drawing my attention to the shelf behind his graying head. "Any brand specifically?"

I grinned and quirked my finger up. "Surprise me with something cheap!"

He laughed at my wit and grabbed a bottle of beer, twisting off the cap and slapping it down on the table in front of me with much flair. "That'll be 1500 yen, partner."

I forked over the money and snagged the bottle by the neck, tipping it back as it met my lips and flooding my esophagus with a frothy flood of lager. A few spirited gulps later, I brought the bottle back down and felt my face break open in what I imagine was a rather startling grin. "Aaaaaaahhhh! I'm alive again!"

"Haven't seen you around here before. You new?" The bartender asked, retrieving his previously abandoned glass and setting to work on it again, wiping away smears that were invisible to an ignorant drunken asshole like me. In response to his question, I laughed a little sheepishly and ran my hand through the back of my hair, unconsciously soothing out a few knots in the process.

"Actually, I lived here a long time ago, when I was a kid." I explained to him, hoping that the guy didn't turn out to be someone my family knew whilst we lived there. He didn't look a day older than I would have been, had I lived past twenty-eight. "Just came back for business. Kyoto's a great place to live, isn't it?"

It was his turn to laugh. "That's not something I'd expect a young man to say! People your age tend to find Kyoto a little boring compared to some of the larger cities like Tokyo and Osaka."

I wondered what the aged bartender would think, if he had any idea just how old I truly was. "I grew up in Osaka." I said, tracing my finger around the opening in my beer bottle, admiring the sap-stained color of the glass. "The hustle and bustle gets old after a while. Kyoto's so peaceful… It feels sacred… I don't know why, but I just love it here with every fiber of my being!"

"You're an interesting young chap." The barkeep said, his expression on the critical rictor between gentle amusement and astringent bemusement. "What's your name?"

Again, I wondered whether it was particularly wise to disclose my true identity within this conversation but my tipsy state soon eradicated my strained concerns, severing them as effectively as old cord pulled by a persuasive weight.

"Watari. Yutaka Watari. Pleased to meet you!" I distributed, sign, sealing and delivering the introduction with a wink, as Oriya had so colorfully put it.

The bartender set down his glass, slung his towel over one shoulder and offered me his left hand; clearly his hand of preference.

"Hotaru Natsuko." He had a strong handshake. "An equal pleasure."

I released my grip on his fingers and sat back on my stool, fishing my hand down into the inner pocket of my jacket. Time to slip a little work in there somewhere.

"Mr. Natsuko? Could I ask a favor? I'm looking for some people that were in here a little over a week ago and I was wondering if you could be of any help?" I revealed the photographs with a flick of my wrist and placed them down on the table, spinning them about so Hotaru could get a proper look at them. He glanced once at the pictures and then burst out laughing, though not in such a manner that it drew the entire club's attention. Tsuzuki is famous for that one.

"Good luck, kid." He chuckled, putting the thoroughly scrubbed glass away and moving down the bar to serve another customer. Confused, I trailed after him, sliding my beer along the bench top as I went.

"Huh? What do you mean?" I asked as we became stationary at last. Hotaru met my eyes with an expression that said I really should know better. I'm sure I would have… if I had any understanding of what it was that I should have known better than to have been involved… with…

"Unless you're willing to pay through the nose, you're not likely to get within an inch of those girls." The bartender explained, accepting a handful of notes from a pretty redhead and taking a moment to make sure everything was there before opening the cash register. The redhead caught my eye and I winked at her, sending her giggling back over to her even gigglier group of friends. "Those girls? They're Mibu's ladies. Geishas. And high class ones at that."

I realized with a jolt what it was that Hotaru thought of my interest and found myself blushing ashamedly. "Oh, no, no, no, no, you've got it all wrong, sir! That's not my reason for locating them! I'm a private investigator. This concerns something personal… regarding their well being."

This certainly seized his attention. Hotaru turned his eyes to meet my own and shut the cash register drawer a little harder than he intended. It caught the hem of his work shirt, but he failed to notice.

"Oh my… Are they in some sort of trouble?" He asked with such sincerity that I didn't doubt for a second the degree of the relationship he shared with them. I imagined it to be a sort of father/daughter rapport.

"I apologize but I'm not at liberty to say." I stated, returning the pictures back within the depths of my pocket and sinking back another drag from my bottle. It was already starting to take control of my senses. My eyesight, already disagreeable, was becoming downright rebellious. I wobbled unsteadily on the stool before righting myself. "Can you tell me if you remember seeing them in your establishment on Friday the 10th of August?"

The barkeep was good enough to give this a bit of thought. He stood tall and very still, fingers pressed against his slightly prominent chin, green eyes focused on some point just beyond the constraints of the ceiling. Memories were always beyond the grasp of material restrictions.

"Well…" He drawled, tapping his finger a little as he spoke. "It's a little hard to say exactly but… yes… yes, I recall they did come in that night."

This was fantastic news for me! Finally, it looked as though I might be making constructive leeway in the Geisha Charm case! I wasn't a hopeless lovelorn slacker after all!

"Do you remember what they were wearing?" I asked, whipping out my notepad and a pen, kept safe in my left hand inside pocket. Hotaru sighed and ran his shriveled fingers over the shining crown of his balding cranium.

"Son… you'll have to forgive me, my memories not what it used to be… but…" He trailed off, obviously straining his mind as far as the limits would allow. "I think Karu was wearing a white dress… square cut. Seki had on… jeans and a pretty top… They came over to present themselves to me. We always do that, you see. Actually, I've been expecting to see them in for quite some time. Is something wrong?"

I felt a pang deep down in the far reaches of my heart, when it occurred to me just how many people were going to miss these girls. Not only their families, but also friends and acquaintances that had known them for many years, who loved them and protected them. Who saw them day and night and spoke with them, laughed, told jokes, showed off clothing to. I should have understood this well by that point but never before had a case been so personal for me. Never before had I been provoked to examine the sphere of reason from all sides of the axis; not from my eyes alone but through those that were a true part of this horror, in that they had lost friends, loved ones and family.

"As I said, Mr. Natsuko, I cannot say until I can come to some satisfactory conclusion." I was pissed off for having to give such a crappy and unsatisfactory response but there was little I could do, when I had to keep the case hush hush. I capped the pen and put the notepad away, my information confirmed. The girls had been wearing the same clothes that night, as the ones that they had been found in. _Ra's Sunline _was most likely the last place they had visited before returning to Kokakuro. Now, the only thing left was to try and determine, who it was that might have been with them.

"Did you notice them leaving with anyone?" I questioned, gulping back another slug of beer, thinking that it would be my last one for the night. Though, considering what I heard next, I would have much preferred to instigate it as the first of many more to come.

"Well, yes," Hotaru divulged, noticing at long last that he was being held captive by the cash register and started sifting through his keys to find the one that would unlock it. "If I recall correctly, Mr. Mibu himself came in to pick them up. He takes such good care of those girls."

My beer very nearly came up through my nose. I literally felt my blood run cold. "What…?" I ejaculated, shifting forward on my seat so that I could get closer to Hotaru and eradicate the possibility that I had simply overheard him. "But… that can't be right…"

"Is something the matter?" The old bartender asked worriedly, tugging the creased corner of his work shirt out of the drawer's clutches before sliding it shut again. Safely this time.

My thoughts were jumbling about my skull in a hurried fraternity haze of uncalculated insinuations. The unfounded suggestion that… that the man who… That he had not only lied to me but had done such an evil thing. I couldn't fathom it! Not in the slightest! I _wouldn't! _

"Um… I'm sorry but… Oriya-" I quickly righted myself. "-Mr. Mibu _couldn't _have been the one to pick them up."

"Why not?" Hotaru asked curiously.

"Because…" I said, sounding fairly desperate as my fingers trembled in their death grip upon the neck of the beer bottle. "-because he was the one who hired me to find out what happened to them! He was at the movies when they were here!"

Not that I had more than his word to support this. I was so smitten with him that it hadn't even occurred to me that I should have checked out his story, to see whether or not he might have been lying to me… I simply accepted it. There was no possibility that he… could have… _done such a thing… _

He wasn't like Muraki.

I'd made sure to keep telling myself that, as though constant rehearsal of the words would somehow make them truer.

The barkeep shrugged as he gathered up a few empty bottles and glasses scattered about the tabletop. "Well… I'm not sure what to tell you, Mr. Watari, because Mr. Mibu, as you may have noticed, wears very distinct clothing and his hair stands out for a mile away. Unless it was someone emulating him, which is absurd… the girls went with him without a fuss, as they always do…"

I felt sick all the way down to my toes. An eyewitness account… placing Oriya at the scene, possibly only an hour before the girls were killed. If he had come to bring them home from _Ra's Sunline, _then he had omitted evidence, which may have assisted in the eventual and rapid apprehension of the criminal responsible. Why would he want to delay that? If not…

If not for the fact that Oriya himself _was _the murderer.

The cuts across the girls' necks… I had measured them, judged the angle of each laceration and determined that a sharp blade with a 3 by 3 inch diameter had been used to inflict the blows. None of Kokakuro's kitchen knives had panned out.

I had checked all the blades. Except…

Except for the twenty-four or so samurai swords hanging in Oriya's bedroom; some of which measured precisely 3 by 3 inches, I'm sure.

That night, in the bar, I thought for certain that I was going to throw up again. The very notion that I had been intimate with someone who could very well have committed the atrocious, brutal, unforgivable murder of my… of my…

I fully understood Tsuzuki's guilt at that moment and berated myself for not being more sympathetic to his plight. Being with Muraki, after what he had done to Hisoka must have tortured his mind and body, the way that my own suffered now.

"But… that can't…" I tried to insist, but my already intoxicated body was not helping my sudden onrush of nausea. I was on the verge of vomiting. "Excuse me…" Ignoring Hotaru's concerned questions, I dismounted the barstool and headed towards the bathroom, fingers pressed over my lips lest I lose control prematurely. On my way over there however, I was stopped by a waitress carrying a drink on a tray. She smiled brightly, tossing back her straight brown hair and gently gained my attention by touching me on the wrist. I reluctantly gave it, praying that I didn't lose my guts all over her.

"Excuse me, sir? Those guys over there said that this drink is on them." She chirped, handing me an incredibly fruity and rather expensive looking drink, before gesturing with her hand to the group responsible for sending it my way. There were about five men, all relatively nice looking and totally wasted if appearances were anything to judge by. Not to mention straight. It must have been some sort of joke at my homosexual expense, even though none of them were laughing but instead waving encouragingly. Which made me trust them even less, believe it or not.

I smiled apologetically, setting the drink back down on the tray and tipping the waitress for her trouble.

"I'm sorry for this… but… would you mind telling them thanks from me and explaining that when in bars, I don't drink anything I haven't seen prepared. Again, sorry. You're doing a marvelous job."

The waitress smiled sweetly and ducked her body in an abrupt curtsey before swaying back over to the group of men in the corner, who were looking somewhat stunned at my rejection. I felt a little bad but knew better than to drink anything that you couldn't watch being made before your eyes. Being drugged was something that we, even Guardians, had to be extra careful of. Poison and drugs still affect us, as I had discovered that night before I left for Kyoto a week ago. Never again. Even as punishment for my sins. Never. Again.

I made my wobbly way into the bathroom, resembling some great rolling blond-haired walrus, looking for a place to die. Some guy was leaving just as I entered and I was thankfully left alone; with my thoughts and reflection glancing out from almost every surface in the obnoxiously glitter spangled room. I took off my glasses, slid them into my pocket and then made my way over to the sink. I stood by the basin and splashed some water against my face, trying to calm down and bring my body back under control.

'_I don't believe for a second that it's Oriya.' _I declared forcefully to myself, daring my blurred reflection to object. '_He loves those girls… He wouldn't mislead me if he thought it would delay justice. … Oriya couldn't have…' _

"Unless it was someone emulating him, which is absurd…" 

My mind started to wander back to when the boy creature named Pandora, had emulated the figure that had haunted my childhood and continued to do so for many days after. There was always the chance that this had something to do with it… 'That _might just be it… Oh my God… could this Mitkiel be attempting to have Oriya framed for the murders? If a demon copied his body and then used it to rape and murder those girls, it would leave behind his DNA. It would be _his _semen, because it was directly copied! Police don't know anything about demonic tactics… Oriya _could _take the fall for this… I have to have those samples analyzed pronto! If only I hadn't misplaced the damn things! Yutaka, you're such a scatterbrain!'_

I slapped my hands against my forehead and sank my elbows down into the porcelain of the sink, trying against all pretence to think of what my next move would be. Much like in chess, it is often the opponent that dictates your destiny to move or be swept from the board at any moment and that night, I was the pawn which found myself well and truly snatched from the square upon which I stood.

It started the second that the bathroom door opened behind me. I didn't pay much attention, assuming it was someone coming in to use the facilities and was surprised, as you would expect, when I was instead attacked from behind, a thick arm wrapping underneath my chin and twisting upward to follow the line of my jaw. Owing to my appearance and my lack of offensive guardian abilities, most people just assume that I don't know two nuts about defending myself. Whilst I am something of an 'almost pacifist', it didn't imply that I would simply give up and allow myself to be harassed by people who intended to hurt me. It was with these thoughts in mind that I briefly struggled against the arm holding me and then changed tactics mid-stride. I leapt upwards, hard and fast, ramming the crown of my head into the assailants chin, then driving my elbow backwards into his solar plexus. As the guy keeled forward, I delivered the knockout blow, tightening my gloved fingers into a fist and then plunging said fist into the attacker's groin, throwing him down onto the filthy tiled floor. I couldn't resist the chance to enjoy a well-deserved gloat at his pained expense.

"HA! They don't raise them soft in Osaka!" I cheered honestly, having learnt to take care of myself whilst trolling around the streets with my mischievous siblings, looking for places to stir up trouble. '_So, I may not be the number one Guardian… but at least I can take care of myself in hand-to-hand fighting… how many other Guardians can boast that one?_'

I didn't have much time to brag about my tremendous "martial arts" (note the sarcastic quotation marks) prowess before a second assailant grabbed me. It was near to impossible to access the situation without my glasses but I didn't dare put them on during a fight. I would only be asking to lose an eye AND the temporary cage where I kept Ichibana concealed during the day. Before I had a chance to pull the same trick on Goon number 2, the first guy staggered back to his feet and got revenge for the clout I had bestowed upon his nads by shifting in close and punching me so hard in the face that I almost blacked out. Pain exploded down my T-Zone as the fist shattered my nose, sending blood spurting out over the floor to my right and dribbling miserably down my face. The wound would heal but that wasn't to say that it didn't hurt like hell. My body went limp and three other men appeared from nowhere to help pull me to the ground, one holding me around the neck, another holding my arms, two holding my legs and the other standing before me. Though my gaze was shifty to say the least, I could see that he held something in his hand. Something I clearly wasn't going to like.

"Isn't this a little overzealous for just little old me?" I asked, loathe to hear my nose whine and bubble as I spoke. The guy standing made a harsh hacking noise of disgust.

"You should have just taken the drink when we offered it to you nicely, blondie. Now you're going to have to take it down the hard way. Open wide and say 'Ahhhh!'

'_Now I know how Tsuzuki feels whenever I force him to test out my new potions.' _I thought to myself, the back of my throat convulsing as blood pervaded my sinuses. My nose was healing rapidly but when I spoke, it still caused blinding pain to thrash gratuitously throughout my face.

"I'll open wide and say 'Aaaaah' all right, you bastards…" I groaned, tilting back my head and snapping my lips wide open, screaming as hard as I could, in an attempt to be heard over the music, pounding throughout the club. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Somebody! I'm being brutally molested in the bathro-" My cry for help petered off into a high pitched (and embarrassingly girly) shriek as the goon standing up, stamped his foot down on my groin, exacting his ironic revenge upon me. The pain was so bad, I wanted to curl up in a ball and die dramatically in the corner, but two of the jerks were holding my legs apart, constricting any thrashing I was desperate to partake in. My eyes watered, blood dribbling down across my lips as my lower abdomen rocked from side to side, in an attempt to alleviate the agony.

"_Ouch…" _I whimpered pitifully. The goon holding me around the neck sniggered and increased the pressure in his arm, constricting my jugular more so. I was finding it difficult to draw a breath, even with my chin angled downward to keep some distance between my throat and his arm.

"Now why'd you have to go and do that?" He sneered. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to respect your elders? Now just hush up and take your medicine like a good little boy." I winced as he tangled his fingers through my bangs and used his hold to tilt my face up, the man standing before me leaning down to push what felt like a glass against my lips. Now I didn't know what bland store-bought amphetamine they had swirling around in that Bacardi and Coke but I sure as hell wasn't swallowing it! I didn't even _like _Bacardi and Coke. They could at least have drugged a beer… Frightened, but at the same time curious as to what their intentions were, I knew that under no circumstances could I permit them to force that drink upon me. I pursed my lips together firmly and what little of the drink managed to sink between them, I promptly spat back out. I couldn't see Goon Number One's face but he sounded annoyed, when next he spoke.

"Deryk!" The assailant pinning my arms stiffened in response, so he must have been Deryk. "Go stand watch by the door!"

As soon as the pressure upon my arms was lifted, I lashed out, hoping to catch my attackers my surprise but I found myself forced back down onto the tiles by a follow up cuff to the face, which re-broke my newly healed nose and went so far as to split my upper lip. My skull bounced hard off of the floor, shooting blinding, sickening pain throughout my head. Combined with the agonizing swelling of my face, I was overcome with the burgeoning desire to cry but I resisted, knowing that bawling like a baby wasn't going to help my situation much.

Goon One knelt down close to me, his finger pressing down on the broken marrow of my nose, which most likely resembled mashed cauliflower. I gagged at the new pain that brazenly hacked at me from this simple application of pressure.

"Listen closely, you stupid little faggot…" The goon hissed in a voice of much loathing. "Swallow this down, or I'll cut a damn hole through your throat and tip it down your fucking esophagus!" To my astonished horror, the blurred figure reached back into what I suppose was his pocket and tugged out something rectangular. There was a click and the shining silver blade rose out like a hypnotized python from a wicker basket. The goon ran it across my neck, eliciting a whimper of fear. It sounds stupid but the instinct for self-preservation never leaves you, even in death. "Sakumi! Pinch his nose shut. He'll realize he has to breathe sooner or later."

I screamed in pain as Sakumi, the guy holding my neck, reached down and clasped the fractured remnants of my nose between his fingers, snapping the openings shut. Blood was welling up and seeping down into the back of my throat with nowhere else to go. I started to choke on it, my body heaving in staunched coughs but regardless, I tried to keep my mouth shut as the glass was once again pressed to my lips. But even I, an undead, couldn't hold my breath indefinitely and as the blood continued to choke me, I was grudgingly forced to split my lips apart. I tried to get a breath in but only ended up choking again as the villains poured the drink into my gullet. I attempted to spit, but a hand covered my mouth, trapping the liquid inside. I was desperate to breathe; desperate to end my snagged, hacking coughs, which were so painful I thought my lungs might explode at any second. I stared up at the blurred shape of my assailant, hating him and then grudgingly swallowed the contaminated liquid. One of the goons holding my legs chuckled in appreciation and ran his hand up my thigh, just to add insult to injury.

"That's it… slurp it all down, good boy…" He said in a condescending voice. The man named Deryk, called from over by the door, where he had been peeping out into the interior of the club.

"Looks like someone's coming over to use the john."

Goon Number One quickly gathered his wits about him, ignoring poor spluttering me. "All right… I'll step into the cubicle with him… (That would be me) He's mostly out to it already. Shouldn't be too long before the drug starts taking affect."

I only learnt later, by taking a self-urine test that the drug administered to me that night was nothing more than Angel's blood, which as I mentioned before was akin to radiation when induced by immortal Guardians. It slows our healing ability, dulls our senses, renders us physically ill at abrupt movement and eventually slows our motor skills to practically nothing. By far the worst affliction is that it temporarily relieves us of our mana, so that we are unable to cast spells. We are left basically, helpless.

It was nice that they felt the need to go to all that trouble for little old me but it would have been much easier, just to have ganged up on me and kicked my ass. I was pretty much helpless as it was. A drug wasn't going to make an altogether noticeable difference. But it seemed rude to spoil their fun.

Goon Number One moved quickly after handing out orders like a drill Sergeant, wrenching me off of the filthy tiles and dragging me into the end stall, closing the door behind us with a dramatic bang. I put up the best of the fight that was in me but I could already feel the drug taking effect. I was rendered so docile, I may as well have been tranquilized and any other noise I could have made, was stifled by my attackers belt, which he had wound around my head and between my teeth. I looked positively ridiculous, at the mercy of five drunken guys in a Kyoto Bar, possibly drugged and most likely on the verge of being mugged, gang raped and thrown into a ditch.

Perhaps at any other time, I could have found a funny side to the situation.

But not this time.

Now, I was terrified. Terrified at being subjected once more to the nightmare commandments of men who found themselves to be in a position of dominance. Men who would care not for what had already happened to me in the past and how a repeat of such abject degradation would break the light-hearted Guardian of Death; Yutaka Watari.

A man that no one ever believed they would hear beg to die before being brought back to that place.

A place, in both mind and reality that bore no point of escape.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Ichibana had been surprised by how quickly the young girl had moved. Even in the elegant form of a Siamese cat, he'd had difficulty keeping pace. Which was a nuisance, considering that he needed to be at lease ten or so feet away from a being in order to read their essence. So far, he hadn't been able to get a clear shot of the girl. She weaved in and out between the buildings as indiscreet as undiluted darkness. To his great disbelief, after only ten minutes of trailing her, Ichibana had lost sight of the beautiful woman.

The Siamese leapt up on top of a low hanging gutter, sniffing in a most haughty, un-cat like manner.

"Bloody hell…" It grumbled, swiping its rough tongue over its forepaw as though to rid itself of the accumulated filth he'd been forced to dredge through in the girl's wake. She'd been fortunate enough to be spared such offense, as her high heels elevated her dainty feet to a safe and envious level. "To think that I of all people, the shadow of the Dark War, would be outsmarted by a pre-pubescent little hussy in a mini-skirt and high heels!" He reconsidered his statement. "Then again… I think I traded in m' pride when I let that blond bubble-brain bind me. Not one of my finer hours…"

Feeling less than comforted by his thoughts, the djinni placed his newly washed paw back upon the curved lip of the gutter and directed his green slanted eyes in successive left and right turns, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive miss. The tightly knitted streets of Kyoto weren't as quiet and secluded as he had expected; quite the opposite, they bustled with activity, people squeezed into every available inch of space as they wove their way in and out of stores, homes and peoples lives. Though the girl was exotic in appearance, it hardly seemed to matter. Even with Ichibana's eyes, it was near to impossible for him to discern one person apart from another.

Ichibana yawned, finding that he was rather bored with the whole proceedings. Why on earth had he thought it necessary to track this girl around all over Kyoto? She was probably nothing more than that; just some stupid human girl out looking for someplace to get her ass molested. That certainly wasn't any business of Ichibana's. And it wasn't any sort of moral obligation that had inspired his involvement in the first place. Though there perhaps may have been… Isaac would have been ashamed if he thought that Ichibana turned a blind eye to anyone in need.

"But she's not in trouble. She's just out tarting around!" The djinni groaned, feeling that it was foolish to make excuses to a man long since dead but as equally certain that the excuse needed to be made regardless of this fact. "Besides… I reckon there's somethin' more to her… she looks familiar somehow… now if only…"

Wait…

There she was. Ichibana caught sight of her in the street beyond the one in which he was crouching. The sign of a nightclub, before which she was speaking to a group of rather surly looking men with rather dreary expressions on their faces, had illuminated her.

Ichibana checked the name of the club. _Ra's Sunline._

'So, she's trying to get into a club. Big deal! What? Is she the only teenager who's ever tried to sneak into a place like that? So it happens to be the one blondie's at…no biggie. Total coincidence…'

…

Yeah right.

Any djinni- _no, _any creature with some semblance of gray matter between their ears, knew full well that _nothing _can ever be brushed aside as merely coincidental. There was always a chance that it was nothing more than that but Ichibana was inclined to trust his currently cat-gut feelings on this. His djinni-senses were tingling a very strong message: Check it out.

The Siamese raised its haunches from where they had rested and flexed its hackles until the shiver of its spine reverberated to the very tip of its tail. Then, once it had checked to ensure that no eyes were upon it, the cat became a tawny barn owl, which looked very much like 003. It wasn't a form that Ichibana altogether fancied but it served its general purpose; in the dark, the owl's eyes could see even better than that of the cat and as he flew, he would make nary a sound. Owls never alerted their prey to the fact that they were being hunted and that was just how the djinni wanted it. And perhaps with a dashing pair of wings now, he might have a chance in hell of keeping up with the darling little belle.

He watched for a while, until the girl had finished her discussion with the men and they had gone inside. Once they had disappeared through the doors, the petite pseudo-blonde, wasted no time and immediately took off in the opposite direction, which happened to be towards Ichibana. He hunkered down against the gutter and tried to look as inconspicuous as an owl could look. At least now, if the girl passed underneath him, he'd have a chance of reading her.

But the girl didn't reach him. Instead, she veered off down a side alley, disappearing into darkness that looked as wet as blood. Ichibana uttered a curse, which startled an elderly couple who happened to be passing underneath this gutter and then reasserted himself, without further complaint. It was a sad djinni, who suffered from lack of patience.

The owl dropped silently from its roost and carefully angled its way inside of the alley, all of which sounds lovely in writing but in fact was idiotic to the point of being mentally brain damaged. Ichibana flew straight into a trap.

"Argh!" The djinni exclaimed as he flew into what resembled pink sinews of cobwebs strung between the walls of the small alley. The thin, near translucent webbing tangled about his feathers, wrapping him up securely. The more he tried to struggle, the tighter and stronger the tendrils grew, until it felt as though burning hot wire bound him in place.

The girl stepped out of the shadows, brushing aside their tendrils as they attempted to cling to her like the adoring hands of children. She wore a thin, somehow expressionless smile, that neither applauded her incarceration of the djinni, nor resulted from any vindictive pleasure she might have gained from seeing him in such a predicament. For lack of a better description, the smile she wore was one of contemplation. Thoughtful. Which worried Ichibana even more. A vindictive smile might have expressed weakness, for it indicated a creature that gained pride in accosting another and therefore revealed inexperience. What he saw before him was experience beyond arrogance. This girl- whoever, _whatever _she was, most likely had a long career. Much longer than Ichibana's, as he was still deeply entrenched in that bragging vindictive stage himself.

"Friend… did you truly believe that I wouldn't have noticed your attentions?" She asked softly, grazing her slender chin with a long, perfectly white fingernail. "You were in the park… and have followed me ever since." She suddenly laughed, her face expressing pure, almost painful pleasure. "You! What an idiot! Bumbling right on into my trap like that! You must be still a baby… only that could account for such blatant idiocy!"

Ichibana tried to think of an appropriate response that served his already largely crumpled dignity.

"Yeah… well… Who said I'm not just an ordinary owl and yer mistaken in yer accusations?"

The girl laughed softly, shaking her head skeptical at such outright stupidity. "Ordinary owls aren't cheeky enough to answer back. Nor do they curse in German."

"Drat." Ichibana grunted, giving what he hoped was a defiant wriggle in the webbing and shrieking as hot needles punctured deep into his essence. The girl shook a finger at him.

"Now, now, I would be careful if I was you, my little friend. You don't want to test those parasites. They don't like their prey to squirm… they dig their proboscises in and they'll squirt your underage essence full of poison. May as well relax. I'm not calling them off until I've had a chance to question you."

Ichibana immediately released all the tension from his muscles. "Okay, okay, I got it. I'll be the bitch, if it'll make you happy. What do ya wanna know?"

The girl raised her face towards the moon, a slight quirk of one eyebrow the only indication that she felt any sort of obligation to her other commitments.

"Later. I have other things I must attend to. Be a good boy and wait her until I get back, huh? Oh and don't worry," She assured as the owls eyes darted back and forth across the pink "parasites" tangled about its body. "They won't eat a great deal of your essence in the time I'm absent. … But then again, who knows?" On that ambiguous note, the young woman made towards the mouth of the alley, pausing to pinch Ichibana's feathery cheek on her way.

It was at that moment, Ichibana was finally able to read her aura. And two seconds was all it took to realize just who and what this girl was.

"Aww… shit…" The owl muttered.

**Watari**

We emerged from the back doors of the establishment and I was thrown onto the concrete, like a reeking sack of garbage. I was so sickened by the drugs effects at that point, that I was dry retching, even as I made valiant attempts to climb to my feet and seek out an escape that wasn't there.

"Where are the Bouncers?" One of the toadies asked, glancing around as though expecting to see what I was praying for; two muscle-bound Bouncers, previously banned from World Wrestling Championships for excessively violent anger problems and looking for a couple of sexually challenged blingers to take out their tension on. But it was my expected misfortune of course, that this question was to go unanswered, as were my silent pleas for help.

One of the taller Goons stepped out over my crumpled form, appraising the alleyway carefully. "Yeah, aren't there usually two or so Bouncers out here? What, did they knock off or something?"

I would certainly be having words with management if this turned out to be the case.

Goon Number Two waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, who cares where the damn Bouncers have gone. They're not here, that's the point. More importantly, what are we going to do with _him?_" Again _him _turned out to be me, currently struggling to wrest my wayward body off of the cement. My stomach flapped disagreeably within the depths of my abdomen and I staggered forward as bile surged to the back of my throat. I couldn't remember ever feeling anywhere near this sick in my life, even at the Ministry a little over a week ago. This was sickness beyond sickness. I felt the abrupt need to purge my aching stomach but nothing was coming out, even when I purposefully attempted to expel what it was that had made me so sick in the first place. It was already absorbed into my bloodstream. My attempts were futile and came far too late to make the slightest difference.

"That pretty girl said she was meetin' us here right?" One of the mystery men glanced down at his wrist, where there might have sat a watch. "Didn't specify a time…"

'_Pretty girl…?' _I thought wearily.

"No, she just said we should enjoy ourselves while we wait for her." The tallest of the group mused; the man that had forced the poisoned drink upon my lips. His voice lowered insidiously, so that I understood very well the implications of his following words. "You know what that means, don't you?"

I could literally feel my entire body seize up like a rusty gear, as my worst-case conclusion came to light.

'_Oh God… please no…'_ My knees buckled carelessly, heaving my body forward against the grit-work of the concrete, grating my face from the right eyebrow down to my chin. It stung like Hell but didn't bleed. I waited for it to heal but the salving sensation never came. My nose, broken twice in the space of a minute had already staunched itself. A scrape should have been nothing.

But this wasn't the matter with which I need have concerned myself. Whoever had arranged my capture, whatever their intentions had been, this unknown girl of which the men spoke had given her disciples permission to 'enjoy themselves' in her absence. It didn't take an admittedly drunken genius like me to figure out what this meant.

"Ah I don't know, man…" One of them murmured, as I wriggled about like some paralytic worm on the damp alleyway floor. "I've never really been in it for guys myself… I mean, he's not what you would call pretty is he?"

I would have been insulted, if the situation had allowed room for vanity. Defending my appearance happened to be the last thing on my mind at that particular moment. I was rendered partially prone from a toxic concoction of fear and whatever the hell else had been plugged into my system. Over and over again, I tried to make sense of my surroundings, but everything was in a dazed cloud, like the out of worldly sensation of a dream. Much of the conversation was drowned beneath the pounding of blood between my ears. I faded in and out of consciousness, my legs soon failing to move at all and when I revisited my senses, could only manage to drag myself a miniscule distance up the alley towards the street beyond, using my once beautifully manicured nails. They snapped and cracked as I leveraged their brittle density against the concrete.

"It's not … different ta … it with … a girl." I was able to make out, though I would have been happy if the entire conversation evaded my attention completely. They were discussing how best to have their way with me, regardless of whether I was an ugly burk or not. "Besides, guys can be better. They're tighter. And you don't have to look at him if ya don't want to. Keep his nose to the grindstone."

"Couldn't make his face any worse than it already is!" One of them laughed. I wanted to swivel around, find whoever had said that and take a good chunk out of their ankle. As satisfying as that might have been, I knew with certainty that I didn't have enough drive to do so. I could barely lift my face from the damp ground. As my hands continued to sift my body forwards, my head appeared to be lagging behind so that it sank down between my languidly sifting shoulders. This wasn't a good sign.

A hard toed boot crunched down hard on my left hand and I opened my mouth to scream, horrified more so by my lack of volume than by the shattered wreck of my fingers, resembling for the most part, wizened pretzels. A dry rasp emitted from the back of my stained throat. My fingers were broken. My face was scraped. I wasn't healing.

What the Hell was happening to me? 

"I don't know if he'd be all that satisfying…" The boot now planted itself on the back of my neck and I winced, reaching my mangled fingers up in an attempt to alleviate the pressure that squashed my features into the unyielding cement. "Looks as loose as could be… fuck him too hard and you're likely to turn him inside out!"

"You guys need to give it a rest… Really, he's not _that _bad looking…"

I snorted, thinking this hardly constituted an adequate defense on my behalf. I was grateful however, to find that the shoe holding down my neck was lifted away, only then to be replaced by fingers, which snagged into my hair, almost tugging my locks out by the roots. I was hefted off of the cement by the clump in that assailant's grasp. Knowing I was about to be bought into intimate proximity with one of these cruel men, sickened as I was, my immediate solution was to alleviate my fear by sobbing in pain, eyes clenched shut as the goon pulled me close. I didn't want to meet his eyes, to be reminded of that very same situation I was forced into forty-two years ago.

His warm breath washed over me. "What the hell are you whining about? You look like you've done this more than once or twice, so it shouldn't be any big deal doin' it now. After we went to all the trouble to drag your sorry ass out here, the least you can do is put it to good use."

Without any warning, I was thrown down roughly onto the cement. The push was so forceful, my skull literally bounced off of the concrete, slapping the ground twice with such force that my head split open, at least an inch deep laceration. My head snapped forward, striking stabbing knifepoints of pain into my sodomized brain. Blood ran in thick oozing trails through my hair and I blacked out, though I'm not sure for how long. When I came to, it was to the sound of someone unzipping their pants. I cringed, folding my arms over my torn face, sobbing at my awfully contorted fingers, my aching skull, and my endangered body. It was so difficult to move; it was as though physical weights were attached to my ankles. Regardless of such determined constriction, I used every inch of control mustered from the far corners of my inebriated will and curled my legs in close to my torso, forming a sort of protective cocoon.

Such was my ruined state, that it took that long for the answer to strike me. The bulge in my pocket, made from my glasses, brought me to mind of Ichibana's words earlier that night.

"_Anyway, ye know how ta reach me if ye need me."_

"_Just call your name. Got it."_

Tears were streaming down my face and I risked a glance, to see one of the men leaning down toward me, pulled free from the constriction of his pants. I croaked, crunching my body together tightly like a wadded tissue only to have it my defenses penetrated, as if it were truly nothing more substantial than paper. I was literally crying my eyes out as he flipped me over onto my belly, holding me steady by the scruff of my neck as though he were restraining an animal.

"No… not again… please…" I begged, receiving of course, no answer. "Ichibana I need you! Please…!" I gasped in fear as the one behind me grabbed a handful of my hair again and cranked my head up, arching my body at a drastically painful angle.

'_Surely you haven't forgotten?' _I jerked, as a voice that belonged to none of the men surrounding my battered body, a voice I didn't recognize, a voice that jeered at me from within the barriers of my skull. '_The particular selective purpose of your body, those forty-two years ago? Does this not bring your mind back to those days? A memory, which aligned you ever more closely to that boy you dare think of as a brother.'_

'_Hisoka…' _I immediately thought and the voice laughed in return.

'You know well what he suffered. That vice is yours to bear also.'

Bile washed about the back of my throat and I dry-heaved as the man holding my neck, Deryk, if I remember correctly, leant his chin against my shoulder and whispered into my ear.

"Do my friend a favor whilst I'm having my fun back here… and tell him who you are."

A tall blurred figure stepped up in front of me, bathed in shadows scribbles. "So that we can find you later if we like what you do for us tonight."

I whimpered and strained my body forward as the one called Deryk tried to undo my pants. It seemed so much easier just to give up, to let them do what it was they wanted. My body was so weak… I felt nauseous and sick… like I had food poisoning. If you want to recognize some semblance of how I suffered that night, think back to the sickest you have ever been and then combine that with how you felt after getting deliriously, disgustingly drunk and throwing up so badly, you'd find yourself clinging to the toilet screaming; "I WANNA DIE! I WANNA DIE!" You should have some idea of how it was that I was feeling. As though I were blind to the gills. Out of control. Using magic to alleviate the situation was an aspect that just didn't come to mind. My brain was a raw scrambled mess. I had a screaming headache. I felt as I had the night I'd died.

"Who are you?" The shaded goon asked again and I was injected with a prompt surge of undiluted anger, rising above the cracked remnants of my wits.

"… I'm… nothing…" I hissed, unconsciously instigating a strategy that might spare my mentality. That disconnection from my individual self might have been the only method of pulling through this confrontation with my sanity intact. Just like before, Yutaka Watari had to step away from himself, just long enough so that it was the body that suffered. Nothing more. "_Nothing… nothing… nothing… NOTHING, DO YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING!"_

The goon standing before me laughed brightly, as though I had just told an exceptionally humorous joke. "Oh, I don't think you could be passed off as _nothing._ You look like someone who knows your way around, if you catch my drift."

Using the hold he had on my hair, Deryk smacked my face hard against the cement, causing me to scream yet again. I would be lucky if my brains didn't soon erupt from a leakage in my skull.

"You hear that?" He chuckled over my wretched sobbing pants. "That's the scream of a whore, of someone who knows and loves the sin of his body. Of feeling the touch of something shameful down deep inside of him."

I wanted to curl up and die.

"Well, he certainly looks like nothing short of a whore." The man at my front smiled and ran his fingers through my lips as Deryk started to pull my pants off, ignoring my bolstered panicked thrashing. "I'd like to fish my cock around that pretty little mouth of yours… I think you'd like the taste wouldn't you? I'd make you _gag _for it…"

I jerked away from his touch, wrapping my hands around my body to get a hold of my pants, fighting through the pain spurting along my fingers, to keep my body clothed. Deryk slapped my hands away, fitting one of his own beneath my hips and snapping the button out from the hole in which it was fitted. I shoved my pelvis down forcefully, trying to eradicate any space for his fingers to work but he altered my position embarrassingly easily, working my zipper down completely, before latching a hold of my back pockets and with a yank, working my trousers down off of my ass. I could feel my face going red, knowing I was being exposed to them and that I was helpless to stop it. It didn't seem real… it couldn't be possible that this was going to happen to me. Where the hell was Ichibana? This was the first time that he hadn't responded immediately to the call of his name!

I could hear a man laughing, one of my attackers from too far back for my poor eyesight to make out.

"Would you get a load of the underwear he has on?" Came the high-pitched cackle. Deryk had snapped my pants down to just beneath the curve of my buttocks, exposing my thong for all to see. "My _God _he IS gagging for it!"

I sobbed and buried my face in the ground, wanting to die from the humiliation of it all. Their laughing voices cackled around me, taunting me, putting me down and still intending to fuck me anyway. I tried to crawl away again, my nails scraping against the cement but finding no leverage. Deryk laughingly tugged me back into place so roughly my face smacked back down against the concrete, my hands trailing along the ground leaving bloodied trajectories.

'_Somebody…' _I silently pleaded. '_Please help me… Ichibana…_' I wanted to scream but my voice was so hoarse and sore that nothing came out. _Ichibana! Please… ! It's… gonna happen to me again…' _And then I was appealing to someone else, someone I knew couldn't hear me but who I wanted help from regardless. '_Oriya please… help me…Oriya…'_

Deryk paid no mind to my condition, preoccupied with running his hands up my bare buttocks. He adjusted the angle of my hips and then with an experienced twist, tugged the thong off, whipping it free at my feet and handing it to one of the other men.

"Let's keep it as a little memento shall we?"

I cried even louder as Deryk removed my jacket, revealing my naked lower torso completely. My blurry, red, tear-filled, unfocused eyes were just able to make out the figures of those men who were content to watch, some unzipping their pants and proceeding to rub themselves brazenly. Aroused by this demonstration of power over me. I wailed loudly, like a wounded animal snared in the jaws of a rusted trap when the guy behind me undid his own pants. I thrashed to get away, agony flaying my body like barbed wire from every movement. But physical pain was nothing compared to the torture of my soul, which quaked in endless tremors of the replicated exposure that had rendered me free of innocence.

'_NO! Oh God… anyone please… Let me die again… I can't get through it again! PLEASE! ORIYA I NEED YOU!'_

Cold fire washed through me as Deryk fished his hand sinuously beneath my t-shirt and ran his hands over my nipples. I only wanted to be touched this way by Oriya… and now I was being made dirty again! After being clean for one whole week, it was taken from me as simply as that!

"This is going to be fun." The man hissed. "Don't kid yourself otherwise…"

"_I don't want it!" _My mind screamed. "_I don't want to be raped!"_

Noticing my defiant expression, the guy who stood before my face, the one who seemed to be the leader of this little group, slapped me hard across the mouth. I gasped; eyes burning and then registered a third revival of bile in the back row of my throat, as I felt what could only be tip of his cock, rubbing across my chin. Mortified, I clamped my eyes and mouth shut, despite the pain I was in. Not being able to see it didn't make it go away, I knew that. But nothing at that time was rational. I was too sick to know any better solution.

"Open your mouth." Their leader hissed as Deryk pressed his own swollen penis up against my unprepared anus. He was going to tear me right open without a second thought. I clenched my buttocks together tightly, irrationally trying to eradicate the room necessary for entry. "Open up those lovely eyes too, so you can see what you're taking."

I whimpered, knowing that if I opened my eyes, I would be sentencing myself straight to Hell. "No… I don't want to…"

Their leader snapped his fingers about the front of my face and hooked his nails in, drawing blood as Deryk moved his hips against my buttocks. I shuddered, tears rolling down my face and through the fingers of the one that held me, knowing that Deryk was seconds away from entering me.

"There's no sin in admitting to what you are." Said the leader in a cold, unsympathetic voice. A hot weight twitched between my ass cheeks. "You have the face and the eyes, the mouth, the laughter, the soul, the body of a slut. I'm sure you've done this a million times over. And enjoyed it."

'_I've_ _never enjoyed being used like this_!' I thought, winding my good fingers around the leaders wrist and using his steady weight to draw my body away from the one at my back. '_When I was so lonely… so insecure and weak, I told myself that I liked what was happening. That I was an active participant… But I was nothing more than an outlet, too ugly to be loved, just pretty enough to be satisfying. And when I said no, he took me there… For days on end, that's all I was to him… that evil man… in that dark room. He ignored me when I said no, no matter how hard I screamed or begged, or how much I bled… I was a tool for satisfying him… over and over again… I was a child…'_ There were tears pouring down my face. Tears I had never given myself credence to shed since the moment of my death, the moment I knew I could start over. I was disgusted at my own self-pity. '_I was eleven years old, the very first time I begged to die rather than endure another single moment in that pit of Hades!_

"Please God! If you love me like you say, then please! … Please… let me die…" 

'_God never answered my prayers… and I'm thankful… I promised not to be subjected to that ever again! But even to this day, I let it happen. I let men use me to satisfy themselves and to satisfy the side of me that says I need to be punished. Seki… you made the act so beautiful, whilst I used it in such a filthy despicable way! Maybe I deserved to be punished…_'

My consciousness waned and with a viable shudder, my body weight tilted, almost driving my upper torso headlong into the ground. Seconds away from succumbing to darkness, it may have been the drug that was making me hallucinate… but I swear that I could hear Seki's voice.

"…No… never! You're beyond this! Fight it out! Fight it out like you did for me… for us…"

"Seki…" I whispered, straining my eyes to seek her out from a world of darkness that no longer held her. But there was no reply. My mind was empty but my heart was blooming with renewed hope. "Seki… _even now you're my final strength…_" I lifted my face and set my eyes on the shadow in which I'm sure lurked the contradictory sight of the one whom deigned to commandeer my attentions. A smile slit across my lips, uncharacteristically malicious. As sick as I was, some of the old fight had returned to me. I had no doubt it was Seki's presence, real or imagined that had divested it. "If she could fight in those final moments… then it's only natural that I can, too!"

The men surrounding me had suspended their subsequent actions at the vigor in my voice. He, who stood at my face, knelt down, though his expression remained blurred as he tugged the hair above my ear sharply.

"What are you talking about?"

"You'd better let go of me now…" In an abrupt movement that startled myself as much as them, my good hand darted up and wrapped around his jugular, nails digging in. I was too weak to transfer all of my divested strength upon him but it was just enough to make my little friend sit up and take notice. Which is what I wanted. "I don't want this body dirtied any more by the likes of _you_."

The much stockier, broad shouldered man struggled to tug away my clasp upon his neck. My fingers had locked firmly about his throat and no matter how hard he struck my wrist; it was beyond my ability at this point to release him. It was a death grip.

Unshakeable.

"I belong to Oriya Mibu!" I declared raspily. According to those guys I spoke to, Oriya had a bit of a reputation. It was the only card I had to play. "If he sees what you've done to me… the Wolf will shred you! You won't be able to walk out of Kyoto on the shredded stumps he'll make of your legs!" My words were rushing out in the heightened tension of rage a person is brought to, through fear and fear alone. False bravado, encouraged by a heady influx of adrenaline. Regardless of where this anger stemmed from, I got the feeling that it was effective. I'd always had a tendency towards the dramatic.

The Boss finally managed to pry my fingers away from his neck and with a slap, had put me back onto the ground again. I struggled to remain conscious, as conversation rose and fell around my derelict form in nervous twitters.

"He knows Mibu?" One man said; his question followed by a very audible zipping noise as he did up his pants. There was noticeable fear in his voice. Oriya was more infamous than I could have hoped for.

"Pay no mind…" Came the bosses' thick voice, somewhat hoarse from the infliction of my grasp. "Like Mibu would bother getting inside friendly with a back alley bitch like this? Don't forget, Oriya is upper class. He would have his best pick of good fucks and I don't think our little blond friend here exactly qualifies."

They all seemed to find that a plausible excuse. Deryk was readjusting my hips again and I could no longer battle it out with the malevolent drug pounding through my body. My eyelashes fluttered against my bloodied cheeks, saliva seeping down from the corner of my lips. I was on the verge of unconsciousness, which was just how it had been…

"Ichibana… now would be a good time…" I whispered weakly. My reward for daring to speak at all was another box across the mouth. I started to wonder if my face would ever recover. I knew that my eyes were black, upper and bottom lips spit and almost every spare inch of skin scraped off. If I wasn't an ugly git before, I certainly was now.

"Stop talking to yourself!" The boss growled snagging my chin firmly and lifting it. My whole weight rested on his fingers, my strength evaporated as I teetered on the verge of conscious obliteration. "Now… be a good boy and do as you're told. _Part your lips._"

Suddenly, miraculously, my face dropped from his hold as his hand was torn off of my skin. It took all my effort to look up but it was worth it for the dazed sight that awaited me. For who should be standing there, holding my tormenter by the wrist, so far off of the ground that his feet were dangling but Oriya Mibu. At first, I wasn't sure that it was him. My eyesight was too bad to be certain and it was dark, I was drugged and drunk, which when thrown into the mix, doesn't evaluate into an all around lovely cocktail. But then he spoke and I knew who it was without a doubt. To say that Oriya was angry would be an understatement. He was positively furious.

For me…

"I would appreciate it, gentleman…" He growled, in a voice so deliberately dangerous I almost felt a little frightened myself. Except that I was too busy being absolutely, positively _thrilled _that he was rescuing me. It was so romantic! Only I was being saved from gang rape at the hands of a bunch of drunkards and not from a railroad track that I had been tied to in the oncoming path of a locomotive. "-If you would kindly take your _fucking hands _off of this little 'back alley' bitch."

"Mibu!" The all gasped as one. I felt the actual impact that his name made. I think that they were so stunned by his presence that they didn't react right away. Which made Oriya angry. I'm not sure what was said next but some words were exchanged and I was jerked up from the brink of sleep by a loud crack and something colliding bodily with the alleyway wall. Apparently, their lack of activity had prompted Oriya to snap the first goon's wrist and he had rounded this off by throwing his body against the wall like a rag doll, knocking him out.

I realized then the obvious; that I was half-naked and Oriya was seeing me in such a vulnerable, degrading position. I started crying, bracing my hands against the back of my head and hiding my face against the ground as though I could somehow blend in with the seamless grime beneath me. I was so filthy, that it just nearly seemed possible.

"Don't look at me!" I begged him weakly, still very much aware of Deryk's hands on my thighs and wanting to be rid of his contemptible touch. "Oriya, I'm sorry… don't look at me… don't see me dirty…"

Oriya made an awful sound, like a pained sob and his next command came out in a choked roar that made me cry even harder. "Get your hands off of him, _right this second _or I'll break every damn bone in your body! _LET GO OF HIM_ _NOW!_"

I felt Deryk's hands release me so quickly that my legs smacked against the ground. I collapsed, weightless and sobbing, desperately searching for my pants so that I could cover myself. Oriya happened to be wearing a two-piece yukata and bless his heart; he threw the top layer over me, preserving my modesty. I pulled the material in around my body tightly, scurrying away from where I had been brutalized for the past who-knows-how long, until my back hit the alleyway wall. I fished my glasses out of my pocket and shakily put them on, though it did little to improve my troubled sight. I could see Oriya, staring impassively at the four conscious men who were attempting to back up the alleyway as quickly as their denim-clad legs could take them. Lightening flashed dramatically and it started to rain, which might have sent me into a fit of giggles at any other time. I mean, how cliché can you get? But I didn't laugh, even though I thought the whole scene rather ridiculous. Oriya didn't look ridiculous in the slightest and this was partly the reason that I could not bring myself to deride the situation. He had an expression on his face as though something rather unpleasant smelling had just wafted under his nose. His beautiful form was revealed in that flash of light and then as darkness returned, he had disappeared. I blinked, wondering if I was hallucinating but the four guys appeared to be as stunned as I was. They looked around nervously as I slipped my glasses off to slowly rub the lenses with the hem of Oriya's upper yukata piece, fitting them back on when I was sure that there were no smears upon the surface that were obscuring anything. I was more stunned by the fact that my glasses had survived my beating. As I slid them back up over my nose, I happened to glance up, my vision blurry anyway from the drug's effect. But I could clearly see Oriya's veiled shadow drop down behind the four assailants, as though he had fallen from the sky above. He landed as lightly as falling paper and in another flash of light, made his presence known to those he had blocked from escape. Out of it as I was, I can't say for sure what he did to them. But had I been in my right state of mind, I doubted that even then I would have been able to make sense of his frenzied movements. The flash of lightening held the scene in context for barely five seconds time and the second it died away, Oriya had left all four men unconscious on the alleyway floor. As far as I could tell, he had not bruised, nor bloodied a single one of them. It looked as though he had broken a few teeth and a limb or two here and there but for the most, it was undoubtedly the most remarkable display of combating prowess I had ever seen. I didn't know of anything, _anything, _that could move that fast. He was even better than he had been that night when he'd fought against Hisoka.

Had he been holding back? He certainly hadn't been against these men, so our first meeting had perhaps been more telling than any of us had ever guessed.

I listened as Oriya spat on the nasty men's prone forms and then he was making his way back down the alleyway towards me, his expression twisted and indefinable. I managed to haul myself to my feet, like an unsteady newborn foal and staggered towards Oriya arms outstretched in the savvy semblance of some bad movie zombie.  
"Thank God…" I sobbed, thinking that if I wasn't prepared to spend the rest of eternity in Oriya's debt, then I certainly was now. "Oriya thank you… I didn't think anyone was going to help me…" Sobbing, I moved to embrace him but received the shock of my life instead as Oriya flinched away from me as though my touch were contemptible and then a blinding pain assaulted my scraped left cheek. He had moved so quickly I hadn't even seen him do it but it would seem that he had slapped me. Dumbfounded, I stumbled back and went down hard, shock registering throughout my senses. "Oriya…?" I whimpered, nursing my face. "Oriya why!"

Oriya's face was creased heavily with pain. He showed the palm of one hand in my direction, to ward off my words as though he couldn't bear to hear them, his second hand glazed across his expression. He told me later, that this was often what he did in an attempt to keep himself from crying. Even then, I realized almost instantly, that Oriya was not truly angry, just scared shitless. What he had witnessed must have brought him to mind of his girls and what it was they must have suffered through. Not to mention the fact that I had very nearly met the same fate. Oriya is not gentle in fear.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed. Well… sobbed. "You fucking _idiot_! You know, I'm not one to usually curse but I have lost my temper! I hope you're fucking pleased with yourself now!"

I crawled away from him, unable to tolerate his screaming upon my stinging ears. I found my jacket, underwear and trousers, managing to slide them on with much difficulty. I then pulled myself over to the wall and desperately fished my good hand inside of my pocket and retrieved the packet of cigarettes I had bought earlier. I used them as an excuse to stand outside and join in people's conversations at the club, though I'm not a smoker and tobacco frankly makes me rather sick. As stressed out as I was right then, I felt as though I could use one, if only to find some divergence from the frightened, furious Oriya, who was staring at me with a blurry expression I had hoped to never see. The only emotion even worse then that raw primal fear was pity.

"Where do you get off yelling at me like that…" I wondered softly, prying the lid back off of the cigarette box with fingers that weren't altogether steady. "I'm sorry that you came here and offered me your stinking help then, if this is the way you're going to be treating me. It's not as though I asked you to interfere." The irony of course being that I _had_ in fact silently begged Oriya for help.

Oriya's whole body was shaking, as though it had been him in my shoes rather than the other way around. His brows were bowed in the center, alluding to his fear and distress. "You've _got _to be kidding me! Do you _want _to end up like my girls! Goddammit, what kind of idiot game are you playing at? Do you know what those men would have done to you if I hadn't turned up? Huh!"

"Wouldn't be the first time…" I said, chuckling a little bitterly as I pried a cigarette out of the packet and lit it with fingers that couldn't stop trembling. Oriya's lip curled, which meant that he was annoyed. I'd gotten pretty good at reading him, so much so that I could do it even in an altered state of consciousness.

"Oh, sure. Why not destroy your lungs as well as whatever's left of your brain?"

I sneered at him, suddenly finding that I positively loathed him at that moment, every single thing about him, down to the stupid flat way his hair hung on his head in the rain.

"Oh, like you're really one to talk, Oriya. Who are you to just waltz on up and give me a lecture like you can suddenly tell the difference between good and bad?"

"This is not about me, Yutaka." He growled, stepping even closer, his sandaled feet splashing against the puddles starting to form on the bloodied concrete. "This is about you and your lack of professionalism. I have a handful of murders on my hands and I've trusted you to perform the job I have asked of you. After everything that has happened, you go out and get drunk on the job? Look at you! You can't even hold that cigarette still! Frankly, I find your lack of decorum completely disgusting-"

"Disgusting? _Disgusting!_" I shrieked, quite unable to comprehend what it was that I was hearing.

"Disgusting." Oriya repeated, without the hint of expression on his face. The face I suddenly couldn't stand the sight of. I struggled to my feet, dropping the cigarette box into a puddle and wasting every single last lovely stick of cancer. My head swooned as I rocked back and forth on my heels, trying to speak determinedly but failing dismally, on account of my slurred stutter.

"And this is… coming from the guy who is best friends with a freakin' psychopath, who-who-who who rapes and-and murders and ruins lives without a sh-econd glance! Why am I disgusting! You cover up for this guy! And you don't deny it! What _you _do is disgusting, mister, and it's as though you're… _content _with that!"

Oriya took this in his stride and nodded at each accusation I leveled at him with much dignity. That was not what I wanted from him at that moment. I wanted to see some semblance of pain, to see that I had hurt him as I had been hurt, even if it solved nothing.

"You're right." He said congenially, moving even closer to my swaying, inebriated self which wanted nothing more than to lob its cigarette into its approaching savior's left eye. "You're right, what I do _is _disgusting but the difference between you and I, is that I do not deny my onus of responsibility. What I do is very real and very immoral _and _very disgusting. But I'm not running from it. I'm not running myself to ruins trying to cover my pain with more pain. I have asked you to do a job for me, a very serious job and if you can't handle that – If you're going to give me your… your…" He spat the next words out as though he had been choking on them for some time. Perhaps he had. "-sweet sympathies, your tears, your drunken rambling and expect me to run around coddling and baby-sitting you, well then you can march right on back to the Ministry and send me another Guardian. One who isn't a complete basket case. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

I could feel the tears coming to my eyes again. My heart was all but broken at his words. Was that what he had thought of me the whole time I'd been in Kokakuro? Was I nothing more than a liability to him? A nutcase who couldn't do anything right? It was the same everywhere I went, wasn't it?

"I'm not a complete basket case, Oriya!" I cried, slumping back against the alleyway wall and inhaling so hard on my cigarette that I nearly sucked it back into my lungs. I choked on the smoke as I regurgitated it violently. "I'm the only one who isn't!"

He didn't seem convinced and this made my chest hurt even harder. "Then why have you been crying over these girls that you don't even know? Why are you taking stupid, dangerous risks, like tonight? Why are you _punishing _yourself with alcohol and violence and allowing your body to be treated like garbage?"

All the while Oriya was talking, I was pleading with him, hands clasped over my ears until the point came that I could take it no longer. "Please, please, please, please please please please please please please please please please please please please please JUST STOP!" I screamed, surging forward on a tidal wave of emotions and whacking my hands against Oriya's broad chest, dropping the cigarette in my expressive haste. "You don't understand!" I implored desperately. "This job… I'm not running… I was working every second… I… you don't understand…"

Oriya's voice was soft, sullen. _Beautiful._ "What am I supposed to understand?" He asked, taking my hands in his and lifting them away from his chest. "All I see is a drunken idiot."

My eyes welled up with hot tears as my body at last reached the end of its physical restraint. With a harsh kick in the depths of my stomach, I became violently ill, pulling away from Oriya just in time and vomiting painfully against the wall, catching my hair and trousers in the process. I started to sob, holding my face in one hand. Never before did I think that my emotional pain, could overrule any physical agony but that night, they were one in the same. I hadn't thrown up because of what had happened, because of the drug, because I was drunk. Until that moment, I'd been able to keep it under control. Oriya's words, his dismissive touch had broken my last shred of mental constraint and I had lost it completely.

"I feel awful… I said, speaking in a very small voice. As small as I felt, standing before that perfect, dignified man who had probably never thrown up on an alleyway wall in his entire life. He'd probably never had a reason to go _into _an alleyway in his life, if it weren't for me and my lousy stinking investigation skills. "I'm sorry… so… so sorry… please don't yell at me anymore… it hurts so much I can't stand it." I held a hand over my heart, showing just where it hurt. "I'm not a bad person! I'm just in a bad place… Oh Oriya, _please_…"

Oriya didn't seem prepared to take mercy on me anytime soon. I guess he wanted me to fully understand just how serious it was, not that I needed any further reminding. "What I need you to understand that when you are in my home you follow my rules. No one is to leave Kokakuro alone, not in this dangerous time. I didn't make that rule just to be a hard-ass, believe it or not. And the last thing any of us need is for you to bring trouble back to us. You have a very big responsibility to me, to the girls and to your job. You can't afford to behave this way. Taking shortcuts. It's foolish."

Emotional pain lashed through my body unlike anything that had ever afflicted me. There was no greater shame in the world then somebody you cared for and admired, looking upon you with disappointment. Both my mind and mentality were twisted so thoroughly beyond general comprehension that I was barely able to process where it was that I was standing. But I could still hear every single word Oriya was leveling at me. The worse thing was, I knew what he was saying was true. I'd made a foolish, stupid mistake. I was an idiot and I hated that Oriya had cut straight through every one of my defenses and seen me at my weakest. My most vulnerable, hated, inner core. The part of me I wanted positively no one to witness, especially not a person I had come to find myself caring for, maybe even love. I tugged my glasses off and slapped my mangled fingers over my eyes as I started to cry, the pain only increasing the weight and density of my tears. I'd ruined it. Everything that Oriya might have felt for me in the evening, I had just allowed to be quashed by my own stupidity. How could he even stand looking at me when I was so dirty? When I was so… weak…

Then he spoke once again and this time his voice was so soft. So gentle but so sad at the same time. Was it possible that he was… sad… for _me? _Oh, I didn't deserve such pity.

"Oh… no, Cher… Don't cry." He whispered, voice cracking like a brittle shell beneath a cruel weight. "… I'm not angry. I was just worried about you. If you wanted to question people then you should have asked me to go with you."

My guts clenched in upon itself again and in a hot, horrible rush I started to vomit again, the aftertaste making me sob harder in helpless desperation. "_Uh! … uhg… _I… I didn't wanna bother you…" I groaned, gagging and sobbing on my words, bent over in half, with my good hand braced against the alleyway wall.

"Would have been less of a bother than this situation here, don't you think?"

"… You're right. I'm sorry…" I managed to choke out, hugging my aching stomach tightly as I regurgitated again, retching on the burning liquid and wanting to scream from the hopelessness I felt. "Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me…that drink was drugged! Doesn't help that I was drunk to begin with…" I added as an afterthought.

This was apparently news to Oriya. I think he had been under the suspicion that I was throwing up because I was thoroughly geezied. "You think you were drugged?" His voice indicated disbelief. Negotiable disbelief but still predominate incredulity.

"Those guys forced something down my throat…" I wiped my dripping mouth off on my jacket sleeve, managing to straighten up a little and face my employer, internally begging him for one of either two things; either to smash me back into the concrete and exact the beating of which I was most deserving, or to take me in his arms and make my sickness go away. Anything would have been better than this indecisive nonchalance that bound him to the shadows beyond my capacity of comprehension.

"Oriya… thank you for coming here to find me." I whispered through the aching inflammation of my throat. "But… even when I was calling for you in my mind… at the same time, I was kind of hoping you wouldn't find me. That way… I could get what I deserved."

Oriya finally conceded to shaking loose the tendrils of darkness and he stepped up close to me, placing one strong, nurturing hand against my shoulder. A hand that he swore could never treat me with malicious nature. A hand that despite this promise had struck my face. However, despite the scrupulous specifications of his pledge, I could not find it in myself to fear his touch any more than I could fear the man himself. There was no way that these hands could have… could have-

"You didn't deserve _that_. No matter what you think." He said, voice soft, thumb stroking against the rounded curve of my shoulder, in paternal sympathy. My blood flushed cold ice when I registered the tone of his voice as the expenditure of pity, something I never wanted from anyone. I shrugged his hand free, averting my eyes so that I acquired the courage to say what needed to be said. Fortunately, my intoxication helped in this deliverance.

"I've always deserved that. I've always brought my own misery upon myself!" I whimpered, sobbing openly into my bloodied, crumbled hands. Oriya clucked his tongue impatiently.

"Oh, come on now, that can't be true. You're not a bad person, you said so yourself." I lifted my face, sobs jiving through my clenched teeth and almost fainting from the undeserved compassion Oriya extended towards me, when his hand caressed my scraped, stinging cheek. "There's nothing mean about you in the slightest… you're so… sweet… and kind… You make me smile for absolutely no reason…"

I looked into his eyes, shocked. I couldn't believe that I was hearing this. That… I had managed to make Oriya smile… the only gift I could give to him that cost no money but was worth more than anything in the world. Smiles are free. And he _was _smiling in that dark alleyway. A sad smile but it was genuine pleasure from a memory he had preserved of me. I was so happy, I could have cried all over again.

"I make you smile?" I whispered, unconsciously leaning into him.

"Yeah…" He said, nodding as he placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me close to his body. He was all around me now and I was safe again; cosseted from the world that hurt me, just as I had been earlier that evening in his bed. Our moment in that alleyway was so embarrassingly candid. I believe Oriya allowed himself the luxury of being honest with me because of my intoxication. If he was hoping that I would forget his words by the following morning however, he was in for a rude shock. I would never forget those generous, beautiful words for as long as my eternity lasted. "Yutaka… I feel happy when I'm with you… even in times like this when you would think that there was nothing to be happy about."

I realized of course that this couldn't be what he really felt at all and berated myself for believing it, if only for a momentary second of weakness. Nobody, and especially not someone who had as much going for him as Oriya did, could look at me and not be disgusted. Oriya was a kind soul… he pitied me because of my ordeal. That was all.

I tried to pull away, mild panic setting in when Oriya's arms didn't lessen their hold on me. I pushed against his chest, sniffing and whimpering my protest, which wasn't powerfully conducive in any means to encouraging the expiration of his touch.

"No… don't pity me…" I insisted, surrendering to his strength, which was so much greater than my own, broken from the application of the drug. I hoped that he at least heeded my words as my arms folded against his chest, his own tight around my back and shoulders as he rocked me gently, uttering 'Shhh…' in a soothing, breathless whisper. "Oriya, don't you understand? The last thing I want is for you to pity me… or be disgusted by me. I've made some stupid choices in my existence. But I'm not a stupid person. If I am to accept everything that you expect of me, then you must understand in return, that I am not capable of being strong indefinitely…"

His hand swayed down through my hair and I tried again to pull away from him, remembering that there was vomit strewn throughout it. But Oriya wouldn't release me.

"Yutaka, you're drunk. You don't need to say anymore." He offered generously.

I knew that I shouldn't have had to explain myself but there was an equally, if not louder part that wanted Oriya to hear my excuses anyway. If it didn't spare my respect, then I at least wanted him to understand why it was that I, perky, happy, energetic Yutaka Watari, was so damn miserable as of late. He at least needed to know that, so he could not accuse me of being a fruit basket. I forced myself to focus, finally succeeding in procuring a fraction of space between my body and Oriya's. He kept a firm hold on my shoulders, to help steady me and I was grateful for his kindness, though I knew I didn't deserve to stand in front of him at that moment. I was so much lower than him, so much less of a human being, I should have been back on my belly in the puddles of the alley, chewing dirt clods.

"No. No, you hear me." I demanded, with as much power I could muster out of my inebriated self. I was already swooning; seconds away from falling asleep. This was more important however, so my body was just going to have to push past its limitations. "Listen. This is the only time I will ever have the balls to say it." I looked into his eyes, hoping that this might ensure his attention was focused entirely on my words but thought it might have been the wrong thing to do, when he started chewing his lip in anger. He was taking in my multiple facial injuries and clearly didn't like what he was seeing. "Believe me, I have tried…" I paused, chuckling in bitter exasperation of the impending confession. Words that had gagged and bound me for so many years, were now going to finally reveal themselves in a drugged slash drunken stupor. Why is it that we can only muster courage at our weakest moments? "… to spend every single day with a smile on my face. The sun in my eyes… a laugh in my voice. I don't have the time to entertain any melancholy that I might feel. Everyone else in the Ministry has so much pain in their pasts… so much hurt and they need someone to help them smile. So that person is me. That's all I can really do for them." I sniffed to combat my running nose and restrained myself from wiping it on my sleeve. "I'm in no way special. Because they have that awful sorrow, they have hope for having it alleviated. When you hide it… day after day… I guess I never thought of having someone help _me _heal up, y'know? I don't have that… But then again if we all did, people like Tsuzuki and the kid wouldn't be so special." I sniffed again and a tear rolled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away, hoping that Oriya hadn't seen it. I was sick of crying in front of him. Fed up and sick of it. "All I can really do for them is what they expect of me. To keep on smiling."

I sniffed a third time and felt my face crumble with pain, delivering my final words through the premature waver that precedes tears. "People want the light and they shun the darkness. You can't see anything in the dark, unless of course your eyes adapt to it. And no one wants to spend so long in the dark that they learn to see in it. That's why those that live in darkness wander aimlessly. But I'm fifty years of existence… I died at twenty-eight years old, I lost my wife to my selfishness and then watched her waste away in a hospital bed fighting a battle everyone knew she would lose… not to mention…" I snapped down hard on my lips, knowing that if I were to divulge any more to Oriya, that I would never be able to survive my despair that night. I left that sentence severed and incomplete, rounding off my self-pitying ramble at that which had instigated it in the first place. "And all they expect of me is to smile. If only they knew how hard that really is…"

Oriya cupped my face, his expression fierce. I thought for one dreadful moment that I had angered him with my conceited baloney but I was mistaken. Through the smudged indentations of my vision, I was finally able to differentiate that his face held not fury but a fierce and powerful pride.

"No matter what you might say to the contrary…" He whispered, his face so close to mine that I wondered if it were possible that he might melt into me. Intoxicated as I was, Oriya's face resembled mixed watercolors. "I think that makes you really special."

I scoffed, not meaning to sound rude but not believing him for a second either. "No it doesn't. You're just saying that because you think it's what I want to hear."

"Yutaka…" Oriya's thumbs stroked up and down my face, so warm and comforting. "Do you honestly think for one second that I am the type of man who would lie to spare a person's feelings?" He paused as he moved closer, gently touching his lips to the shell of my ear and I shivered at the feeling of wetness against my temple, the place whereupon he rested his sheathed left eye. Unshed tears… for me… "… Cher, if you weren't so special… would you have fought for twenty-two years to keep on smiling for them?"

He had justified me.

My face twisted in grief, having nothing left to either defend myself or deny his words. The fight had withered within the depths of my soul and all I wanted at that moment, selfish as it may be, was to despair in his arms and be taken away from the dreadful place I had come to find myself in. Revealing that remarkable knack of knowing what it was that I needed, Oriya pulled my shaking, lamenting body against his own. I dug my fingernails into the folds of his yukata and he held me tightly as I cried into his shoulder. Perfectly reminiscent of our very first day together, when we had shared our tears on the deck of Kokakuro.

"Don't go out on your own without me anymore, you hear?" Oriya murmured, rocking me back and forth gently, his chin resting atop my head as we swayed. "Ask me… and I'll go with you to the ends of the earth."

"_Oriya…" _I breathed, so in love I could barely stand it.

"_Shhh… _There, there now… everything will be all right." He said, fingers raking through my tangled, messy, blood bequeathed hair with succinct tenderness. "You just made a little mistake. A mistake I believe everyone is guilty of more than once or twice in their life."

"I was so… afraid…" I whimpered, pressing my face so hard into Oriya's chest that my glasses started cutting into my face. It was a while before he answered and his voice was so soft, so hesitant in its premature admittance that one could not doubt the validity of his words. Understanding this as I did, no matter what state I was in, was enough to effectively halt my heart.

"So was I… I was scared shitless I was going to lose you…"

I gasped softly, glancing up and trying to detect any presence of fraudulence. There was only empathy. Such kindness. As our eyes met, Oriya raised my left hand and examined it, clenching his eyes shut momentarily and hissing between his teeth in sympathy. "Oh, darling… look at your hand…" He murmured, pressing his lips against the buckled rows of my fingers, applying only enough pressure for the touch to register. Not enough to activate my pain sensors.

'_Oriya… you're too good for me… You're so wonderful…' _I thought, pulling back from him suddenly as a very unsettling ultimatum came to my bungled brain. "Oriya… I can't possibly go back to Kokakuro like this. I don't want the girls to see me…"

Oriya smiled as he rubbed my upper arms to restore the feeling, dispensing a small kiss against my stinging forehead. "Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to. No one will think badly of you. I wager that the girls are in bed by this hour."

Another sob burst up through my body and I buried my face into the crook of his neck, wondering how I could ever possibly repay Oriya's kindness and his acceptance. He had every right to fire me and I knew that. I wouldn't have blamed him. But Oriya was going to make an exception. He cared for me, even though I had caused him nothing but trouble and pain. And all I could give him in return, was a smile.

Little did I know however, was that in a world prolonged within darkness, a smile is all one ever needs to adapt to the darkness.

I guess for that, Oriya considered us even.

"Well, then…" I said, lifting my ruddy, make-up stained face from Oriya's (now-rather-in-need-of-wash) yukata and forcing a smile onto my lips. "In that case… turn me around and point me in the direction of home. I'm tired and I want to go to bed!"

Oriya smiled back, melting in all uncanny semblance of a big hunky ice-cream cone. He may have looked like a honeycomb crunch on the outside but Oriya was really nothing more than a soft serve on the inside.

"Oh, you poor darling. You're so ill, aren't you?" I nodded weakly against his chest. "Everything will be fine. I'll take care of you." As though he hadn't proved himself chivalrous enough, Oriya suddenly took it upon himself to hook his arm beneath my knees and lift me into his arms, like a blood and bruise covered bride being carried over the threshold. I may have been sick, drugged, sore, upset, dazed and weak but at that moment, in Oriya's arms, it was nothing short of Heaven. "Won't be a fun ride for you though. The only vehicle I own is a motorbike, cause of my leg see? It was a bitch riding it here in a yukata… People kept staring." No doubt because the wind kept blowing his yukata up in a most immodest way, ensuring resulting nosebleeds in the process. "We'll manage though, won't we?"

I nodded tiredly, snuggling in close to him and wrapping my arms around his neck to keep my weight stationary. Though I knew that there wasn't the slightest chance in Hell that Oriya would drop me. Putting my arms about his neck just seemed the romantic thing to do. Who was I to deny impulse? "

"Thank you…" I told him, closing my eyes in exhaustion as Oriya knelt to retrieve the half of his yukata that he had originally thrown across me and using it now to wrap around my shaking body. He couldn't seem to understand that the warmth of his body was more than enough to soothe my racing shivers. "You know… they say karma always comes back to bite you in the ass. … I never should have laughed at Tsuzuki whenever the Count or Muraki molested him. Left chained up and naked… so it may have seemed funny at the time but if tonight's little lesson has taught me anything, it is that you do not laugh at your friends when they are in scary, embarrassing situations, because you wouldn't want them to laugh at you if the sock was on the other foot!"

"You know, for an inebriated, drunk you certainly have no trouble getting the words out. Y'know?" Oriya said, his tone teasing. He smiled down at me when I blew a raspberry in witty riposte and turned on his heel to carry me down the alleyway, coming to an abrupt halt instead.

"Oriya?" I asked, registering his mortified expression. His face had gone oddly pale, eyes protruding slightly. A white ring had appeared around his mouth, as though he were biting his cheek from the inside. I jerkily followed his gaze, noting the way his arms trembled slightly beneath my body. The light rain made it even more difficult to see but a most fortunate (not to mention, expectedly stereotypical) flash of lightening abruptly lit up the alleyway and Oriya and I could only stare in mortification at what lay between us and the street beyond.

The men he knocked unconscious were all lying in a pile, whence before they had been strewn about at odd, unconscious angles. At least… I'm positive that Oriya had only knocked them out. It was certainly beyond his capacity to exact upon them, the hopefully post-mortem injuries that the brilliant flash of light exhibited for us. I say hopefully, because no one alive should have had to suffer through what these men had endured, whilst Oriya and I had been speaking. Their features have been completely eviscerated, limbs severed and arteries strewn about like gnarled strings, leaking pools of already drying vitae into gleaming stains across the cement. It was impossible. _Impossible. _Oriya and I had been standing at the far end of the alleyway, not ten feet from where he had left my attackers. Admittedly, we had not paid much attention to them but I think Oriya, who can detect a bloody spider crawling out of a tiny hole in the wall, would have noticed someone coming up the alley and severing five men into bloody pieces. For that is what had been done. Their bodies were basically ripped open, intestines spilling out from their stomachs and even out through their mouths, eyeballs carved out and blood coating everything. All this had been done in silence. Absolute, phenomenal silence.

No one… no one could have… it just wasn't _possible._

Oriya dry heaved and started to back up, turning his body sideways so that he drew me away from the sight, when a second flash of lightening illuminated a figure standing atop the pile. A figure that hadn't been there seconds earlier. I couldn't make out many details, being half-blind, bloodied and buggered for that matter, but what I could see, was that the figure appeared to be a young girl. Her legs were bare and she was coated in blood and gore, grasping two spongy, dripping bundles in each fist. As Oriya stood there, no doubt horrified into petrifaction, the girl tilted back her head and shrieked with laughter, clasped the bloodied handfuls beneath her chin gleefully.

"What-?" Oriya finally managed to say. His voice trembled, feet tangling around his opposing ankles as he attempted to back away from the horrible, horrible scene. He was still trying to keep his body between mine and the crazy bitch standing atop the corpse castle, but that was near to impossible if he was hoping to remain facing forward at the same time.

The girl stopped laughing so suddenly, it seemed as though she literally pressed an off switch. She lowered her dark face, obscured in silhouette and finally conceded to looking us over. Her eyes came to rest on Oriya and she emitted a happy little gasp that somehow managed to convey her already confirmed expectations.

"Can it be…? Well… I'll be damned!" She laughed at her own little pun and I too understood the nature of her gag, realizing slower than I might have under normal circumstances that she was in fact a demon. "At first I wasn't sure whether we would have the chance to meet tonight. What name are you going by now, _Michael?_"

"You killed them…" Oriya stated, paying no mind to what she called him. It weighed on my mind for only a second and then I too, had dismissed it.

"Figured I did you a favor." She replied casually, sifting the blooded lump in her right hand and examining it with such interest as I might have one of my inventions. "They outlived their usefulness, anyway. All I needed was for them to make a little point." Her eyes flared a yellow fire from the darkness and it was directed at me. "I think Mr. Watari got it, didn't you, my petal?"

I groaned deliriously, trying against all probability to stay awake. "So… you were the pretty girl they talked about?"

She chuckled benignly from the darkness, her feet making nauseating squishing sounds as she adjusted her weight atop the corpses. "Hmm… seems my drug did the job it was supposed to. Angels' blood is a fairly safe bet against you sickening little Guardians of Death… Let's see how it fares instigating the necessary quotation. It should have made you weak enough to tell by now."

A hand extended out of the darkness and I heard the sharp, almost acrylic snap of two fingers sliding brashly from one another.

"Show me your soul…" She hissed, snakelike and a blinding hot pain suddenly knifed its way into the lower disks of my spine. It moved deep into my body, like a corkscrew and at the same time, boiling hot tendrils seemed to burn to life across my skin. For one bare second, I saw lines rise up from beneath the wall of flesh in my hand, the same lines I had originally seen upon Hisoka's body. The very same marks! The marks that _Muraki _had given him! _Muraki's curse was on me! _Hysterical, I started to slap at my injured hand, only making the agony escalate to a point where it became unbearable. Oriya jostled me in his hold, unable to do any more to calm me. The marks were sinking back down, disappearing but I had an awful, sneaking suspicion that they weren't so much leaving me, as they were settling in.

The woman's hand lowered and she sounded very smug when next she spoke.

"So, Mitkiel was correct. You are the Fifth. Number 24. This is good news… The _Shukusatsu _may finally be completed…"

"_Withering…_?" Oriya translated, pulling me into his body as tightly as possible, face creased furiously at the bloodstained dame, blocking our road back to the safety of home. "Were you the one that drugged him?"

Laughter from the shadow. "Guilty is as guilty does, big boy. Wanna make me sorry? Come up here on my little mountain of horrors and feel free to get acquainted. Keep in mind however, that a real gentleman wouldn't lay a hand on a lady."

Oriya parted his lips to reply but a familiar, brazenly twangy accented voice interrupted him from behind where the demon stood.

"That should be no problem then, considering what _you _are."

She glanced over her shoulder at the figure standing, silhouetted in light from the passing cars. I didn't need to look, to feel the cord tightening across the Acasual space ways and know that it was my summons that had finally come to my aid. Not to mention that there isn't another person alive who talks like _that._

"Ichibana…?" I called weakly, looking over to see the djinni's short, blurred form, wobbling around in the light from the far side of the alley. He was either drunk, or I was going down very hard. Hardly surprising. I had a cacophony of head injuries, not to mention everything else that had happened. "What took you so long…?" I tried to ask angrily but my croaky voice did a shitty job of conveying it.

Ichibana at least sounded apologetic. "My apologies, boss, but I got a little tangled up in what I choose to believe was some sort of demonic candy-cane and once I got free… well, they did a right nice job on m' essence. I was havin' a hard time trackin' you! Like there was some kind of interference. Anyway, I was followin' this one to start with. Thought that she rang a few bells… then I saw her face-"

"And now you're a believer?" The she-demon asked, in a cool but severely unimpressed tone of voice. Ichibana isn't exactly the sort of creature that strikes fear into the hearts of people. Call it the feminine features. Call it the accent or the purple nails. Call it the crazy dress sense. But really, it all comes down to the contradictory tough guy stance he imposed, which more often than not failed him miserably during a fight. Not that I'm one to talk, mind…

Ichibana ignored the woman's jibes and glanced around her amiably, as though the small mountain of corpses at her feet was a sight he was not altogether unfamiliar with. I must admit, this worried me a little.

"I'm kinda glad you didn't want me ta come to this club with ye after all, boss! Lax security from the looks o' things. Where the hell are the bouncers? Not underneath tha' lot, are they?"

The female demon faltered as though only just remembering something. "Oh, you mean the guys who wouldn't let me in?" She giggled. "Yes, of course how rude of me. I didn't even introduce you. Come, say hello to the nice fellows, don't be shy." At this, she extended both hands out, displaying the bloodied pulp occupying each palm. Oriya made an uncomfortable noise in his throat and I, too, was forced to swallow down a rather meaty gag. "Of course, they were a little more handsome when I first met them… I do wish I could have tidied them up a bit more for you, but alas, this was all I could get together on such short notice. I think this one here in my right hand is Tonako and this in the left… no _wait_, I think _this _bit here is Tonako… oh dear, I seem to have gotten some of their parts mixed up- if you'd excuse me for just a moment..."

I never got to find out if the she-demon managed to put old Humpty Tonako and his bouncer buddy back together again. Call me crazy but after the pounding I had endured only twenty minutes earlier, I felt as though I had exceeded my excitement quota for one night. Hence, it was enough of an excuse to finally surrender my wearisome senses and darkness finally found me, there in that blood-stained alley, within the arms of a mortal, whose only weapons against the encroaching bloodstained little horror were his martial arts training and my playboy imp.

Sometimes a smile just isn't enough. Not by a long shot.

_**-EC-**_

**Watari: **Awww! Poor me! (Huggles self) What's going to happen? I'm so worried!

**Muraki: **Oh, would you shut up, Mary Sue?

**Watari: **(Gasps) What did you call me!

**Muraki: **You know perfectly well what I called you. Don't act all innocent and pretend you're not the most favored character in this story.

**Watari: **(Splutters) Did you not just _see _what NaPap did to me?

**NaPap: **(Laughs evilly from her perch upon the cloud) Oh, how I love to be malevolent! No character is safe from my dark influence! Who shall suffer next? What horror shall befall our four heroes? In the next addition of Dark Adaptation, we return to Tokyo and drop in on our favorite star crossed lovers Muraki and Tsuzuki, who are about to receive a creepy visit all their own! Who will it be? A demon? A monster? Some unholy wretch from the bowels of Hell? Or even the Count? Find out next time, when Dark Adaptation returns!

**Oriya: **(Sweatdrops) Sure toots, endorse your own fic. It's not as though your head could possibly get any bigger…

**Tsuzuki: **Don't say that! She'll only try to prove you wrong… (Wags tail) Please review readers! I know we can't do reviewer reviews anymore but that doesn't mean we don't want to hear from you! So please, don't forget us!

(All characters put on soppy, kawaii expressions. Muraki tries but just ends up looking scary as per usual)


	18. Tsuzuki: Be all my Sins Remember'd

**Dark Adaptation**

**Disclaimer: **It is not mine. Descendants of Darkness, that is. Dark Adaptation is mine. Even the psychological term is mine. I also own one dog, a Queen sized bed, one noisy rumbling laptop, a rather twitchy eyebrow and one glass of caffeine.

**A/N: **Well, I bet you'd all given up hope, eh? Can't say I blame ya! Been a while. What's everyone been up to?

**Watari: **I've been sucking my thumb and thinking about girls. (Sucks thumb)

**Muraki: **As if you'd know what to do with a girl. Me? I've been doing the same thing I'm always doing.

**Watari: **Ordering dolls off of the shopping channel? Painting your nails? Y'know… all those 'lovergirl' pursuits? (Innocent smile)

**Muraki: **(Scowls) What kind of uncouth weirdo do you think I am? I was sitting in my living room, staring off into nowhere and thinking about the sex I'm never going to have with Mr. Tsuzuki because of NaPap's cruel desire to withold the lemon scene for as long as possible!

**Tsuzuki: **(Cringes) I was enjoying a well-earned break from being molested by Muraki. And eating cakes!  
**Watari: **No wonder you're so rolly polly.

**Tsuzuki: **You're just jealous because no one wants to have sex with you!

**Oriya: **Sweatdrops Now, now children… let's not fight. As for me, I spent hiatus in peaceful meditation, enjoying a little normality. Looks like my break's going to last for a while longer than the three of you.

**Tsuzuki: **(Stuffing his mouth with cake) Why's that?

**Oriya: **I'm only mentioned in this chapter, I don't actually appear. (Looks at chapter content and winces) And considering what goes on in there, I'm kind of glad I don't get to participate.

**NaPap: **Ah, and from now on, my previously unmentioned muses will be appearing in these little character chat sessions!

**Watari: **Unmentioned muses?

**Tsuzuki: **(Shudders) You don't mean-?!

**Count: **(Waltzes in dramatically, bringing a wave of sakura with him) Well, greetings everyone!

**Tsuzuki: **Noooooooooo! NaPap! It wasn't enough that Muraki was here to make my afterlife miserable? Now you have to invite Hakushaku along too?!

**NaPap: **He's the best Smut Muse in the business, Tsuzuki! It's because of him that you guys have had such awesome makeout scenes so far!

**Watari: **You mean to say that it was _the Count _responsible for my sexy moments with Oriya? (Shudders) I feel as though my privacy has been violated!

**Oriya: **This _is _fanfiction, dear. It's not as though dozens of people haven't been privy to our intimate moments already.

**Watari: **But the _Count _inspiring NaPap to write them?! OMG!! (Walks away shaking his head) If you need me, I'll be off taking an acid bath in an attempt to burn off my top layer of skin.

**Count: **(Siddling up to Tsuzuki) Ahh, my sweet and perfectly symmetrical little snowflake! How I've longed for you, as I am sure you've longed for me! Behold this beautiful maiden, that it should blossom henceforth in the fleeting waltz of that fey mistress spring, her weeping tears of pink sweeping aside all false misconception, so that the one I love might fall graciously into the waiting canopy of my arms!

**All: **… _What?!_

**Muraki: **And I thought _I _talked a lot of nonsensical jargon. Still the Count shares my finer tastes in wine and scenery… we might even enjoy some inspired conversations about Mr. Tsuzuki. It appears, against all reason to the contrary, that we have something in common! Plus, I'll have additional input into the forth coming lemon scenes! (Presses his hands against Hakushaku's gloves) Count my dear fellow, I look forward to working with you.

**Count: **The pleasure is all my, kind sir! Let us work hard and enjoy Tsuzuki to the fullest!

**Tsuzuki: **(Whimpers) I'm scared for my virginity.

**Oriya: **Look on the bright side; I can't imagine the other 'Unmentioned muses' could be any worse than Hakushaku.

**Saki: **(Slinks in like a greasy shadow) Why… _hello. _(Evil grin)

**Muraki: **(Squeals like a girl) _Eeeek!_

**Tsuzuki: **… (Points) Hey… you squeal like a girl!

**Muraki: **(Clears throat) I mean… Saki! Why are you here! Last I knew of it, you were nothing but a torso-less head, floating in a cold, dark vat of Passion Pop!

**Saki: **Well, that certainly explains the never ending hiccups. (Hiccups) See, I got bored just sitting in that tank, listening to you wank on about your really weird and totally illogical plan to stick my head on your boyfriends body, so I just decided to come back to life and work as a muse!

**Oriya: **As you do.

**Saki: **(Nods like a bimbo) Uh-huh!

**Muraki: **Where'd you get the body from?

**Saki: **I borrowed it.

**Muraki: **From who? Wait- (Holds up hand) I don't want to know.

**Oriya: **More importantly, how'd you reattach your head?

**Saki: **Duh, how do you think? I used Super-Glue!

**Tsuzuki: **And that worked?

**Saki: **Sure! Just as long as I don't sneeze or cough or laugh too hard that is! I keep some handy in my pocket, you know, in case of emergencies.

**Muraki: **Really? … That's probably wise. (Hiding scalpel behind his back and sporting a rather fetching evil grin) Well, this has all worked out nicely for me… very nicely indeed.

**NaPap: **Oi! No exacting the ultimate, petty evil plan on my muse, Muraki! Oh and I have one more, newly hired muse to join the crew! Since I'm taking a gap year and using the time to work, finances have become a major issue for me! The constant money handling is really wearing me down and yet it's a continuous concern! So, I hired a Money Muse to help me out!

**Tsuzuki: **A money muse? Gee, I wonder who that could be…

**Tatsumi: **I barely appear in this fic and yet I'm stuck with the degrading task of handling NaPap's finances!

**NaPap: **Aww… but I do appreciate it baby! (Hand feeds Tatsumi Chinese as he battles his way through her pay slips and receipts) You are the sexiest accountant ever… (Bats eyelashes)

**Oriya: **Wow… I never thought I'd see the day when NaPap would talk to Tatsumi like _that._

**NaPap: **Hey, I know what side my bread is buttered.

I apologize for my long hiatus everyone! A lot has been going on in my life since the last time you heard from me and writing has been the last thing on my mind, believe it or not! Fortunately, the Dark Adaptation bug has bitten me again and I'm really psyched to continue with it! You lucky dogs! I wanna thank everyone for their kind reviews and emails that continued to come, even in my absence. And as always, thanks to Jollyolly for betta reading! This zombie is back from the dead! Now, a few notes on the following chapter: Sins Remember'd.

This is a HUGE chapter! Emphasis on the HUGE. As such, it has been divided into three parts. The following 2 additions will be added a week from when I post Part 1, so you won't have to wait too long this time! It continues to follow original story structure I created for Dark Adaptation. Sorry to report that this is more centered on storyline rather than smut. Don't worry; you'll get your fix soon. This chapter is about important revelations. I'll admit, it's not the best chapter to announce my return with and it was really hard to write but still, maybe you guys will enjoy it. Like I said, it's more filler than anything. Maybe a couple of warnings are in order?

Ahem: Contains horror. I think you guys know me well enough by now to know what I'm like and you should only expect this sort of thing from me. Quite gory and macabre. Contains Shakespeare references. That's sent about half of you screaming for the Hills, I'm sure.

Oh and also worth mentioning, reviewer reviews are coming back. Why? Because I want to do them. They're fun. I might get kicked off for it but thems the breaks, ne?

Hmm… oh and the poem puzzle found later on is my homage to Silent Hill 3, where the keypad is supposed to represent the face. The keen reader might be able to figure out a few things from this chapter… if anyone can remember any of the other none too subtle references in the previous editions.

Anyway, it's good to be back! Hope that if you don't enjoy this chapter, you'll at least enjoy the fact that this update means there is one close behind it. And that means the smut is on its' way! Yipee!

**Tsuzuki**

_To be, or not to be, that is the question:_

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

_And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end_

_The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks_

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation

_Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep,_

_To sleep! Perchance to dream:_ ay, there's the rub;

_For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,_

_When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,_

Must give us pause: there's the respect

_That makes calamity of so long life;_

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,

_The pangs of despis'd love, the laws delay,_

_The insolence of office, and the spurns_

_The patient merit of the unworthy takes,_

When he himself might his quietus make

With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

_But that the dread of something after death,_

The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn

No traveler returns,--puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those ills we have

Than fly to others that we know not of?

_Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;_

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;

And enterprises of great pith and moment,

With this regard, their currents turn awry,

And lost the name of action.—Soft you now!

The fair Ophelia!—Nymph, in thy orisons

**Be all my sins remember'd.**

The theme is suicide. The theme is dreams. And the theme is undeniably the eternal human obsession with death. These were Hamlet's words, his thoughts on suicide and the question that has intrigued man for so long: Does death bring any peace? I sat beneath that cold stream for god only knows how long, reflecting on my inconclusive epiphany. And suddenly those words came to me. It wasn't as though I was a great Shakespeare fan. I don't think I'd even read or seen any of his plays. But I remember hearing those words once; though I can't recall how exactly they came to find me. But it is relative to my particular circumstances. Not the story itself but the nature of the play and Hamlet's thoughts; his emotions. His despair and tribulation. Hamlet's uncle had killed his father and married the Queen, who is Hamlet's mother. The discovery of this truth drives Hamlet close to insanity and rather than dealing with the situation directly, he loses himself to remiss thoughts of suicide, believing it to be a valid method of escaping the pain that tortures him in life. The oration beginning with the famous words 'To be or not to be' confronts Hamlet's almost insatiable desire to end his life, only to be tormented by the idea that there would perhaps be no solace from pain, even in death. I too had endured a great deal of pain whilst my heart had beat in this world. And only after I submitted to death by my own forceful hand, had I found peace and indeed a contentment that was simply unattainable whilst I had breathed the air of the living. Truly, dying had allowed me that. 'What dreams may come.' My afterlife was certainly no dream but it wasn't always a nightmare either. I'd come to spare my heart and soul by carving open the throbbing lifelines along the inside of my wrists. 

I wonder if the ending to Shakespeare's play would have been any different, should Hamlet have chosen to surrender to his anguish, such as I had. Was death the more positive alternative, if our only other option was to simply _exist_ in the life we were given, our hearts beating but never truly loving? Our eyes staring but never really looking? To speak and never be heard? To laugh and never be happy? To touch your lips to another's but to never truly kiss them?

In all honesty, I have never regretted my death. The irony of my suicide is that I saved my life by taking it. From the moment I succeeded in severing the flow of blood through my body for the final time, I spared my soul from the mental and moral anguish that kept me confined in that impenetrable darkness tapered across my mind. My tears and thoughts and concerns were very much like those deep, considerate words of Hamlet but he and I were nothing alike at all. He was a fictional character and only in fiction are people strong enough to actually overcome their darkest foibles.

Reality is a whole lot darker and the human mind far less merciful on the soul that it shares the body with. I had suffered in my life. I had passed through the realm of insanity and emerged from the other side, though part of it still stained me and never washed away. I could enter into madness and rise from it, as some men bathe in the crystal clear waters. I could shake the very drops of darkness from my soul, just as a dog sheds the saturation from its fur. But you never truly escape from insanity so easily.

**"Be all my sins remember'd"**

These are the words that stay with me. Hamlet was torn between his two most resilient desires. The first, to punish his uncle for the murder of his father, one whom he loved with heart and soul. A strong, resolute option. Revenge.

His second urge was more simple and appealing, as only those who have been left with their backs to the wall can possibly understand. The desire to escape. To shed the shell that encases us within this mortal life and fling away the constricting emotions that come with it. I realize the irony of this, of course. I'm not as stupid as everyone takes me to be. Of course, I ain't no Einstein and I'm certainly no good when it comes to putting my mind to any complex compunctions, as you shall soon see. But I noticed artistry in expression when my mind was mellow enough to take such similarities into account. And that night, sitting splayed out at the bottom of the shower stall, all previous thoughts of my passionate, violent affair with Muraki banished from my mind, I struggled through the same confounding variables as Hamlet himself did. Though with less verbal expression, of course.

**'Be all my sins remember'd.'**

The boy Pandora had been humming Ruka's song, of that I no longer had any doubt. He had even acted as she had, displayed elements of her whimsical yet gentle nature and traces of genuine concern when someone appeared hurt or sad.

It would certainly have explained why he had been carrying her handkerchief. If Pandora was the reincarnation of my sweet and beautiful sister, than perhaps it would have passed to her hand in this new life, in that mystical way that is never understandable but oh so magical.

But if this was true, then my burden was all the more terrible, for I had allowed death to sweep my precious sister away from me, not the once but twice. My sins to never be forgotten… the first time Ruka had died; I had destroyed everything human around me, including myself. I couldn't stand the sight of another human face. Why should they have had the right to live in this world, if my sisters' face was not amongst them? That was my justification for the punishment I bestowed upon those that were guilty, innocent and neither here nor there. And so I was deserving of my darkness, that insanity I created to hide myself from the world I had nearly decimated, a way to shield what was left of my soul before this hateful part of me devoured that too.

To think that I had stood by worthlessly as Ruka had died again… I couldn't bear it! I would rather have seen myself die for that second time, rather than have my innocent sister meet Death's scythe once more.

I knew Muraki was waiting for me in the other room but I didn't care to be with him right then. Don't get me wrong. I wanted to be held. To be comforted. Even if it was Muraki doing all the comforting, that didn't matter just so long as I was coveted from these thoughts and emotions welling up in me, like tears begging to fall with the freezing water that battered across my flushing back and shoulders, the blood dried on the curve of my neck turning the floor red around my knees.

'Ruka… tell me… please…' I clenched my fingers against nothing, feeling my heart contract powerfully in my chest. My emotions were so strong; they had an actual impact on my physical body. 'Tell me why I deserved another chance… when so many people do not… Why was I allowed to survive…? That night in Kyoto…' 

I'm not sure that I had actually expected a response. God only knows the number of times we inquire the dead for answers and receive none. But whether this presence appeared to me at that moment because I had called for some manner of absolution to my torturous thoughts, or whether it was just universal coincidence, I guess we'll never know. But as those words left my heart, with no specific direction to fly toward, I sensed that presence approach me and I jerked my head up, eyes glaring out from beneath the long, lank strands of hair hanging down across my face. Though the shower door was clear, with no heat to provide the usual cover of condensation, I was unable to make a discernable judgment regarding whatever had approached the door and was unmistakably staring in at me. My first thought was that it was Muraki. A fairly reasonably assumption, I feel.

"Muraki?" I called, wondering why I didn't sound as angry at the prospect of that psychotic pervert staring at me in the shower as I might have otherwise been. I guess I was still a little woozy from the after effects of our – ahem – mana transmission.

The figure didn't respond and after a second glance, I was able to confirm myself that it was not in fact my new best friend, Doctor Mad-Eye Muraki. It was definitely humanoid in shape, though shorter in frame than Muraki and certainly not nearly as generous width-wise either. And don't bother glaring at me Muraki, it's not my fault you put on all that weight sitting around the hospital.

I tried again to establish contact. "Who's there?" I had to wonder who else this could have been, if not Muraki? I was more than certain that no one had entered the bathroom after me. Not unless they had been hiding in there first, which seemed unlikely considering how small and utterly unsuitable it was for concealment.

The shape of a hand distinctly emerged from this shadowed 'shape' and tapped on the glass. It was feminine, beyond doubt, this hand. Delicate and slender with very pale skin, suggesting a woman you were more likely to find pottering about inside, watering plants and tending to the household chores. It appeared to be the hand of a housewife. Which certainly couldn't have accounted for what happened next.

The shower door simply _exploded _outwards, the glass fracturing into the smallest possibly shards, which collapsed onto the tiled floor in a sparkling carpet of slivers. I cried out in alarm, scooting back from the gaping maw where seconds before there had been a perfectly fine door. Whimpering, I pulled my legs in tight against my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees and tucking my feet down along the line of my thighs to keep myself modest. You see, I was certain Muraki would have heard that smash. And knowing Muraki, he would definitely use this chance to play hero to his advantage.

Sure enough, a moment later, a banging sounded from the bathroom door.

"Mr. Tsuzuki? What's going on in there? Did you fall?"

I shook my head, though he wasn't about to see it and squeezed my body as tightly into the corner as I could. The water was still running but I didn't dare move to turn it off. Because something was still there. Watching me.

A face in the mirror on the back of the door. I could see it now. Staring out at me. Just a face, in the very center of the mirror, with no body beneath it. It was just _there_, sticking out of the glass as though it had been glued to it, eyes on mine, long brown hair hanging down on either side, resting against the wooden framework. The head actually shook, with each thump Muraki bestowed upon the door from the outside.

The face… the face of the woman continued to watch me. And then, as though emerging from a pool of water, she simply _stepped out _of the mirror. Out came both arms, stretching out through the glass and bracing themselves on either side of the framework, pushing herself further out by using the door itself as leverage. The neck emerged and then the upper torso, her medium sized breasts heaving slightly as though the glass were providing some minor kind of friction against her. She pulled herself out to the waist, leaving her legs and pelvis submerged in whatever lay beyond the silver reflection. One hand risked its hold on reality to reach out to me, almost imploring me as such. The long, brown bangs that shielded the woman's face fell free as she threw her head sidelong, so that for the first time I could see who she was. Could meet her desperate, despairing expression as her hand searched for me.

I saw her lips form a word. Just one word. Well… a name really. I was no good at lip reading but I didn't need to be an expert to know who it was that she was calling for.

And I called for her. Lord, how I called for her as I had in all the years since her death.

"RUKA!" I screamed, feeling my face explode with emotion. Tears bloomed from my eyes and choking sobs racked my lungs as I scrambled to my feet, lunging blindly across the broken glass, ignoring the number of tiny insubstantial cuts divested upon my feet. None of that mattered. I was mere feet from my beloved sister, the only one who had ever truly understood me. My best friend in the world, whom I thought I had lost. The complexities of how she had returned to me didn't matter. All I knew was that I had to touch her. I had to be with her, no matter what.

Her delicate hand waited for mine and I slipped my fingers across her little palm and then continued forward, pushing my arms and face into the wall of her chest, just as I had always done as a child. I felt her take a hold of me, cupping the back of my soaking head with both hands and stroking my hair in that soothing manner that only she had ever managed to do just right.

I shut my eyes. I held her. She held me. I felt her lips against the line of my hair and her breath was so wonderfully warm and alive.

"Ruka!" I breathed, scarcely daring to believe my heart.

I felt her head incline softly, her fingers tenderly knotting my hair.

"I found… my brother…" Oh God, I had forgotten how beautiful her voice was.

I wanted to ask her everything, a hundred- no, a _million _questions! Her mirror entrance was definitely top of the agenda, make no mistakes about that. But when I opened my eyes and looked up towards where I had felt her face to be, I was met with an open emptiness that eventually spread to wrench from me, the feeling of her arms about my naked body. There was no longer a mirror in front of me, no longer my sisters' warm and serene face protruding from it. I wasn't even in the bathroom. And the door that swung shut behind me with an unobtrusive click wasn't the same one upon which the mirror had been hanging. It was a closet, with wooden slates serrating the darkness beyond it.

"What the-?" I gripped the doorknob and rattled it, my pulse accelerating dramatically when I realized it was locked. I jerked my hand back as though I had been burned. This made no sense. Less than a minute ago, I had been standing beneath the spray of my shower and something had passed by the door and looked in at me. Something that was not Muraki, the only other person who should have been in my apartment that night. The shower door had exploded and then- I had seen my sister. I had held her, touched her and heard her speak, only to have her cruelly ripped from me.

"Ruka!" I called hopefully, my voice raw with emotion. To have seen my sister who had been dead since I was a little boy… can you begin to even _imagine _the pain that I was going through? "RUKA!! Ruka, where are you?!"

This brought up another somewhat important question: Where the Hell was I? I figured I should have been freezing but my body was completely dry. I was even wearing my usual work attire, though I certainly hadn't showered with them on. That would have been silly.

Still emotional tender from having my sister ripped from my arms, I forced myself towards a state of semi-composure, just long enough to take a minor assessment of wherever the Hell it was my ass had landed.

The room appeared empty for the most part. But it was a nightmare room. A scene cut directly from the pages of a discount store horror novel. I could barely fathom the enormity of what I was witnessing. My mind, already wounded from the malicious extraction of my sister, was left vulnerable to these images that had replaced her sweet smile. I was confused and upset. The footnotes of terror.

The walls pulsated as though they were living flesh. Unidentifiable clear liquid seeped from the heating vents, trailing toward the floor in languid patterns. I didn't want to think about what the fluid reminded me of but the word 'bile' managed to worm its way into my mind regardless. That's what it appeared to be. It was as though the walls of the room itself were purging unwanted vomitus matter. I inched away from the heating vent and distinctly heard something crack beneath my foot. I lifted my shoe away, revealing the shattered remnants of what had once been a hypodermic syringe. I instantly felt my heart shift at the sight of it. I hated needles. It wasn't a general phobia that most people possess either but a prolonged fear, stemming from my time spent in hospital. At the time, I'd been so out of it that I hadn't even registered the periodic application of the injections. However, the sight of a needle now, only served to remind me of my mental and emotional turmoil during that time. It had become something of a Pavlovian response. I unconsciously associated the sight, or feeling of a needle with those terrible years of torment and suffering. I pulled my eyes away from the shattered shaft of the syringe, forcing down the uncomfortable lump that had formed in my throat. Something about the state of this room seemed entirely devoted to devastating my emotional state. I certainly wasn't going to make it any easier for whatever was behind this.

Once I had drawn my attention upward, I realized instantly that I needn't have bothered diverting my eyes. The floor was littered with needles. Not enough so that the term 'carpeting' may have been appropriate but obstructive enough that I doubted I would be able to take a step without landing on at least one. Fortunately, the sharp points were all flattened against the floor, so there was little chance that I would inadvertently prick myself. Not that I had planned on going any further into the room than necessary.

That was, until I noticed the journal.

There it was. A handheld, calico colored writing journal, spread wide open atop the desk in the center of the room. That was all there was in this hellish place. Just that table and the book.

I risked another glance at the walls. It still looked to me as though they were pulsating. Strangely enough, I was reminded of the arteries of the human body. The ventricle of the heart and the tiny synchronic nexus of veins branching outward. I imagined this was sort of how the interior of the human body might appear, if one were to go venturing inside of it. Sans the apartment room of course.

I glanced back at the calico journal. I admit it; my curiosity was piqued. Curiosity may have killed the cat but at least the cat didn't die ignorant. I knew I had been brought to this place for a reason and the only item of interest I could see was the journal. I _had _to see if anything was written there. Anything that might have explained this madness.

I crossed the room to the table, being extra careful to treat lightly when I had no choice but to put my foot down on one of the needles. As far as I could see, the tubes were all empty and the plungers had been compressed, indicating that whatever these needles had been used for, it was most certainly not withdrawal. And the amount of syringes suggested an addiction, in which case recreational drugs were the most obvious culprits, perhaps heroine. I shook my head a little as I weaved my way through the minefield of needles, wondering who in their right mind could participate in such a disturbing indulgence? The idea of injecting oneself to feel pleasure was beyond my capacity to understand.

It took some effort but at last, I reached the table in the center of the room. The calico journal awaited, it's pages spread apart as though in eager anticipation of my reading them. I reached out and picked it up, my eyes already dictating the hastily scrawled text. The hand was sloppy and rushed but it somehow looked familiar. Somehow… don't ask me how… but I had a strange feeling that I knew the identity of this diaries owner. However, regardless of how hard I concentrated, how tirelessly I racked the nooks and crannies of my memory, the name and face of this person would not reveal itself to me. Concerned though I was by this, I managed to convince myself that pinning down the journals author was not that important. At least, not for the time being. The pages had been left open in a manner that invited my attention, so the moral arguments for leaving well enough alone, never came into play. My eyes widened considerably as I read what those pages kept. Though messy, the writing was completely legible and none of the terrifying message, ambiguous as it was, was lost on me:

"_My stomach's churning I can't get off the floor_

_Just curled up in the corner hours now hours have passed._

_I feel sick_

_There are patches on the wall. I think they're getting bigger leaking like blood across the paintwork There are voices screaming from the walls people are trapped in the walls! I can't reach them! I can't get up!_

_My fingernails are oozing pus, there's blood all over my hands but it won't go away I can't scrub it off_

_I need to prick myself don't think there's any left not anywhere_

Not in that cupboard 

_nor that one_

_Found some._

_Stings. Feels good._

_The bathtubs full but the waters murky. It's full of blood and hair the drugs not working yet I have to get away have to find more_

_None in there or there_

_Oh God_

_In the bottom drawer the carpets wet People are crying, so the whole world must be dead in my apartment_

_Another prick. But it's not enough_

_I need more More to make it go away_

_Something claws the back of my neck make it go away!_

_Bathroom cabinet One more prick It's more than enough_

_Nothing's coming up_

_I need it_

_Make it go away_

_Make it go away_

_Make it go away make it go awaymakeitgoawaymakeitgoawaymakeitgoawaymakeitgoawaymakeit goaway_ "

I flicked through the beginning of the journal but nothing else had been written. Only that one page contained any writing. I checked for a name but there was none.

It appeared neither in my mind, nor on the cover. Yet I could sense who this person was. And I was filled with a great, unwavering pity for them, whoever they were. From what I gathered, this person had attempted to wean themselves from a drug they were addicted to. And the withdrawal symptoms became so unbearable that the individual retreated into his or her own mind and had eventually gone insane.

Just like Hamlet.

Just like _me._

The closet door that had been locked behind me suddenly strained against the hinges. I glanced over at it, the journal clenched tight against the wall of my chest.

'Who's there?' I wanted to say. But nothing came out.

Another sound came from the door. A click. It was unlocked. I could hear footsteps and high-pitched voices giggling from the outside. This was almost enough to change my mind about finding a way out. _Almost._ But even the potential of what could have been lurking out there, whatever unknown element was waiting for me, it couldn't possibly have compared to what nightmare existed before my eyes. I could feel the heat from the walls pressing down through my clothing, searing my skin. I was more afraid of remaining where I was, in this room that throbbed from corner to corner like the inside of a malignant tumor. I was less frightened by the malicious giggles from outside than I was this bizarre, unknowable organ attempting to pass for an apartment room. I wasted no time in getting my ass out of there. I'm not afraid to admit that the tiny cramped area gave me the sublime creeps. However, if I'd been hoping that the place beyond it was any improvement, I was in for a grave disappointment.

I swung the door outward and burst from the tiny, nightmarish room into the dimly lit hallway beyond. I glanced about, focusing my attention on the walls, gratified to find that the throbbing, pulsating affliction hadn't spread beyond the boundaries of the room I had just left. Just in case, I closed the door behind me, hoping that this might be enough to contain the wall cancer. I had an unfounded suspicion that the veins proliferating across the room would follow me, if I gave them half a chance to do so.

Holding the calico journal tight against my chest, I turned back toward the looming stretch of hallway, swallowing back a condensed lump that had been forming in my throat. The hall was dark. So dark, in fact, that every aspect of it appeared to be rendered in grayscale. I could discern no color though the dominating blackness.

I waited for my eyes to adjust. I heard this process was called dark adaptation; where our eyes seek out light in dark places, allowing us to see through it and beyond it. It took less than a minute for my retina to contract and I was gradually able to make out some shapes along the hallway. There wasn't a lot to see. Cardboard boxes had been piled up against the right hand wall but other than that, the corridor was scarce and devoid of detail. I approached the boxes, pushing aside the flaps of the one at the top of the pile and tentatively reaching my free hand inside. Nothing leapt out and chewed my fingers off at the knuckle. The boxes were full of newspapers. I pulled out the first one my hand landed on and gave it a perfunctory shake to dislodge the dust that had accumulated on the surface. When this proved ineffective, I blew a puff of air against it, making the pages flap, scattering the remaining dust into the air. Not that it mattered much. The hallway was too dark to read anything.

I lowered the paper, wondering whether I even needed to be examining it in the first place. This felt way too much like some sort of horror game. Being a detective, I had an ingrained desire to poke my nose into just about everything that could explain mysterious circumstances. Now was no exception. I wasn't about to go sifting through all the boxes at my feet in order to flesh out the situation but try as I might, I couldn't convince myself that it wasn't necessary to read the newspaper currently clutched in my right hand.

A thought then occurred to me. Despite this vision assailing me in the shower, I had entered into this bizarre location donned in my default work attire, sans my trenchcoat. When I went to work, I always carried my keys in my suit pocket. My keys were attached to a small key ring, the key ring itself being a small light that I used to shine on the keyhole of my apartment door when it was too dark to see what I was doing. Excited by my revelation, I jammed my hand into my right hand pocket to find… that it was disturbingly empty. Feeling my heart drop into my chest, I hastily checked the other pocket and was thrilled when it emerged clutching the jangling jumble of keys and the small light from which they hung.

Gratifying as this was, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it was all just a little too convenient. Minutes ago, I was standing naked, eyes focused on my sisters face staring in at me in the shower. Now, I was here, inside some unknown place of residence, fully clothed. I squeezed the keys in my hand, feeling the various metallic ridges cut into my palm. I pinched my forearm. It hurt. There was no doubt that whatever was happening here was as real as what had happened between Muraki and I before I had stepped foot in that shower. This was no hallucination, or vision.

Indeed if it was, it was the most convincing, realistic vision that had ever beset me. I wondered whether my sister had transported me to this place, because she felt that I was needed here.

'_If you help those that need you,' _She used to say, '_You too will be saved.'_

Saved from what, she never made clear to me. But maybe Ruka understood that which was intended for me, better than I could have ever understood it myself. Even now, as I lived that possibility.

But then, if I were to accept this as the truth, how did it explain these factors that were utterly unexplainable? How could it explain the clothes that I was wearing now, that I had not been, when the specter had taken me?

_To be – _to exist, _or not to be – _to not exist. The only two certifiable choices we as human beings are faced with in life. You are either alive or dead. To be is to institute your presence in this world and to be is your decision and your choice alone. No one could possibly bring you 'to be' by their will. Could any power have that over me? Could my sister have brought me here, 'to be'? To exist in this impossible place, in this implausible circumstance?

I wasn't an analytically minded man by any means and my mind threw up distressingly little when I attempted to explain the situation to myself. As far as I could tell, the entire scenario just wasn't possible. But then again, who am I, a resurrected man from the realm of Hades, to discern what was feasible and what was not? Powers greater than my own were capable of things I could only question the rationality of.

Mentally weary from only these brief moments of speculation, I focused my attentions on standard step-by-step progression. I compressed the small knob on the side of the diminutive, tubular light and aimed the surprisingly powerful glare down towards the newspaper. I checked the date in the left hand corner first. The 14th of July 1961. Two huge black and white photographs took up the majority of the front page. They were face shots. I took a closer look. The one on the left hand side of the page was a pleasant faced girl, her apparently light colored hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked to be in her teens. The right hand shot was of a young boy, a child. Like the girl he had an exceptionally bright smile and light colored hair. Though his was cut short and spiked up, exposing a delicate skull structure and intelligent looking eyes. The large bold title beneath the pictures screamed up at me when I shone the light on it:

**_"LOCAL CHILDREN KIDNAPPED FROM OWN HOME"_**

Only a small amount of the front page was devoted to the actual article. The rest continued on page 3. Uncertain of how this related to anything I was seeing, I nonetheless scoured the article and was immediately glad I had taken the time to do so.

"_Police are asking that anyone with information regarding the whereabouts of missing children Reiku Watari (16) and younger brother Yutaka Watari (8) contact the Police Hotline immediately. Two weeks ago, on the 1st of this month, the siblings were taken from their suburban home in the early afternoon and as of this date, no contact with them has been established. Police suspect that neighbor and Watari family friend Okiko Haruhi is responsible for the kidnapping, as he was babysitting on the day the children went missing. Okiko Haruhi is currently unavailable for comment. He has also been recorded as missing since the 1st, heightening police suspicion."_

- **_continued on page 3._**

I had certainly read more than enough. Face and hands suddenly flushed with heat, I stared at the two black and white photos positioned above the article portion. Yutaka Watari… there was no way it was a coincidence. It _had_ to be the same Yutaka. The only problem was… the boy in the photo looked _nothing_ like the Watari I knew. Granted he was only eight in the shot, the only similarity I could see was the hair color. Though the photo was grayscale, there was little doubt that both his and Reiku's hair was blonde. I couldn't see the eye color, so all I could assess was physical appearance. The boy in the picture didn't have glasses. His hair was short and styled fashionably, with only a slight kink near the base of the strands. It appeared straight for the most part. His face was rounder, especially near the accentuated cheekbones. I couldn't recall whether Watari's cheekbones were as well defined as the boys. His hair always covered the sides of his face. The boy in the picture was wearing a t-shirt with a sloping neck. Watari nearly always had his neck covered with a high-necked t-shirt or sweater. It was very rare to see him wearing something low slung, regardless of how open and confident the man undoubtedly was.

No… there was no way that the Yutaka in the picture and the Yutaka I knew were the same person. The boy in the picture was cute and had the definite potential to grow into an exceptionally handsome man. Watari, though not ugly, wasn't exactly what you would call striking. He was the first to admit this. If Watari had looked like this as a child, what could have compelled him to alter his looks so much? What purpose could be behind such a radical modification?

I tore the first and third pages from the newspaper and crammed them into my pocket. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to leave this place with what I had accumulated here but I'd be damned if I wouldn't try. Tossing the rest of the newspaper aside, I shuffled through the others, plucking them out of the box one by one and examining them by the light of my key chain. All the uppermost newspapers contained articles regarding the kidnappings. The details were pretty much symmetrical to what the first newspaper reported with a few noticeable exceptions. As the police had researched deeper and deeper into the particulars of this Okiko Haruhi's past, the word 'pedophile' became disturbingly frequent. I questioned the sensitivity of whoever it was who had been responsible for the writing of these articles. Clearly, they were less than concerned about upsetting the Watari family members, who were anxiously awaiting news of their children's well being. In one article the writer freely flaunted the information they had obtained, showing that Okiko Haruhi's name was an alias and under several different names, was responsible for the molestation of a number of children all under the age of 12 during the 1950's. The writer then went on to suggest that this had perhaps been Okiko's motive from the get go and why he had been content to live next door to the Watari family for 17 years without making a move until now. There were nine children in the household. In other words; a pedophiles dream.

I continued to check the newspapers but after the eighth article, there was no further mention of the kidnappings. Not even to say whether the missing children had been recovered. But it didn't matter. I was distressed enough by what I had already read, I scarcely needed the confirmation of what I feared had befallen the two Watari children.

Pedophile.

The word wouldn't leave my mind.

Though it wasn't fair to the children in the photo, I prayed with all my heart that it was an alarming coincidence and that the boy wasn't the Yutaka I knew. But something surfaced in my memory. Something that made the nightmare alternative seem horrifyingly plausible.

Watari's words to me that very night. When I had asked him what his first time making love was like. He had fallen silent and had then said, "_My first time wasn't idyllic, Tsuzuki. It was so anti-idyllic actually that one might even say it wasn't exactly consensual."_

To say that it wasn't exactly consensual… Knowing Watari like I did, I knew that he preferred not to dramatize his life. He would smooth out the sharp corners and G-rate any of his own problems, in order to avoid particularly thorny details. It wouldn't have surprised me if he had been hiding something like this for all of these years. There wasn't a day that went by when I didn't think about the past.

I wanted to consider these issues at more depth but it wasn't the right time to do it. All I could do was continue on, find out what was waiting for me. To go where I was needed. That's what Ruka would have wanted. And I would have done anything for her. Especially if I thought it would have given me another chance to see her again.

The hallway branched off toward the left and I followed it, keeping my body cinched in tight along the wall, until I felt emptiness against my side as the corridor split off again, this time to the right. I continued forward, stepping slowly and carefully, keeping my eyes focused straight ahead, the key chain light all but rendered useless for progressive exploration. Even with the beam stretching forward into the darkness, I was only able to see a distance of five or six feet in front of me. So focused was I on what may or may not have encroached upon me in the shadows, that I didn't pay attention to where my feet were falling and I suddenly stepped outward into emptiness. Gravity snared me in its resilient hands and plunged my body downward dramatically and I flailed for anything that might have saved me. This confusing, unexpected fall into darkness lasted bare seconds and before I had been able to prepare myself for the unpleasantness of it, the concrete floor of the room below rushed up to meet me in a lovers embrace. I hit the floor with jarring force, catapulting a driving pain up through the roots of my spine. I lay there, writhing in symphony with the throbbing aches; eyes clenched shut and my body moaning.

"Owie…" I whimpered, breathing harshly through the gaps in my teeth and rolling my body slightly from side to side in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. It took at least a couple of minutes before I was able to push back the pounding agony and force my eyes open to look around the room I had fallen into.

The basement was even darker than the hallway. The key ring had fallen from my hand after I had tripped and it took a few moments of blind scrabbling to find it again. Once I had a hold of it, I aimed the light slowly around the room. Doing so, I was able to make out the vague details of the layout. A grandfather clock. A four-poster bed. A doorframe wreathed in wooden vines.

Crooked picture frames hanging from the walls. Cracks permeating out from the ceiling corners.

It was unlike the room above, where the walls beat like a heart. The oddity of that space had been the most terrifying aspect of it. This… this was different. The air felt strange for lack of a better description. Heavy. A smell hung suspended in the air, the slightly addictive tang of human sweat and other primitive scents of the body. I looked at the clock again. And looked. And looked.

The face had been shattered, the hands wrenched crooked as though a tempestuous child had attempted to twist them from the face completely. I aimed the light down the cracked casing and nearly leapt from my preternatural skin when I realized that there was somebody slumped against the clock, chin resting on his or her chest. As the light played up the figures torso, their face was eventually fleshed out and I suddenly realized whom it was. My undead heart liberally leapt in my chest.

"Watari!" I yelled.

The blond head jerked up almost immediately. "Huh? Wha-?" He squinted at me through the lenses of his glasses, apparently dazed. "Tsuzuki…? Is that you?"

"More or less." I confirmed, trotting quickly to his side and kneeling down next to him. "Are you okay?"

Watari groaned and gingerly ran a hand across his forehead. "Uh… feel like I've been fucked six ways to Sunday…"

I pulled a face at him. "Watari." I said, scoldingly. "That's not very classy, you know."

"Oh fine, so sue me for unclassy use of expression!" The fellow Guardian snapped, running both hands back through his long blond hair and groaning at the contact. "What the Hell happened…?"

I shrugged. "You tell me. You're the brains of this operation, y'know. I'm just the looks."

Watari snorted inelegantly though he didn't waste any effort on countering my brash statement. "I don't get this… one minute I'm in the alleyway with Oriya… then I… I must have passed out. And I wake up here…" He looked up at me, his eyes flashing suspiciously in the light from the key chain. "Are you really Tsuzuki?"

"Are you really Watari?" I shot back, confused as to why he would even ask something like that. "I'm as real as you are. I was just sitting in the shower when my s-" I stopped myself, not sure whether I wanted to be sharing this with Watari as of yet. Some things were just too personal to speak of, even to those you considered a close and dear friend. I wasn't even positive about what I had seen. The whole situation was just so strange. And getting stranger by the second, it seemed. "Well when _something _bursts out of my mirror and suddenly I'm here. Shooting the breeze with you."

The scientist sighed wearily. "Guess we'll have to just trust one another for now." His eyes traveled down to the notebook clutched against my chest. "Whatcha got there?"

I glanced down to follow his line of sight. "Found it upstairs. There's not much written. Only one page of pure jargon." I held it out, examining it from all angles. "Not sure why I'm holding onto it exactly…"

Watari moaned softly as he forced himself onto his feet. His legs looked unnaturally long for some reason and it took me a moment to realize why. He wasn't dressed in his normal clothes. Rather, he had been outfitted in some kind of surgical gown. The kind usually worn during a physical examination at the doctors' surgery. It possessed short sleeves and a long sloping cut directly down the center of his back, coming shot of exposing his butt. There was nothing on his feet. The paper-thin material terminated at the upper most curves of his thighs, which is why his legs appeared so much longer than they normally did. I had never seen Watari wear anything so revealing, never mind anything that exposed his legs. I could feel my face getting hot but more out of embarrassment for him, then on my own behalf.

He noticed me staring. "What is it? Is there something on my face…?"

I pointed downward, directing his attention towards his attire. "Um… you might wanna stop and take a look at what you're wearing. … or lack of, rather."

"Huh?" He responded eloquently, taking a moment to glance down along the line of his body. A silence followed as he internally assessed his current apparel. "Well… this is certainly unusual." He said at last. I couldn't tell from the tone of his voice what he thought exactly.

"To put it lightly." I said, tugging on the sleeve of my jacket. "I appeared here in my normal clothing. How come you get to wear something sexy and not me?"

Watari gave a small, ironic smile. "I wouldn't exactly call this sexy Tsuzuki. It's what surgical patients wear. Not sure why _I _apply…" He added, with a second puzzled glance downward.

"Well, whatever. I just hope you have underwear on underneath and if not, let's hope there ain't too many floor vents around here." I gave our surroundings another involuntary glance, snapping my attention back to Watari when I heard his breaths become abruptly labored. He was keeling over at the waist, hand pressed against the wall of his chest, eyes shut tight as his panting escalated in both fever and pitch. "Hey… are you okay…?"

"My skin…" He gasped.

"What about your skin?" I pressed, when he failed to elaborate.

I saw a tick appear in the left hand corner of Watari's face, just below his temple. It made his entire cheek lift upward, the skin tight over his strangely accentuated cheekbones…

"Feels… tight…" He whispered, the hand on his chest curling into a tight fist, scrunching the material of the gown beneath it. "It feels like it's… burning… burning from… beneath…"

"Watari-" I started but whatever I had been about to say never came. Watari suddenly cried out in pain, collapsing hard onto his knees and whimpering audibly as the fingers on his chest clenched tighter and tighter. I lifted his head, trying to see what was causing this and reeled back in disbelief as a horrifyingly familiar streak of savage red spread from beneath the neck of Watari's gown, curling up towards his jugular. Spreading… covering his skin. It looked horrible, like some sort of degenerative skin disease… like the beating veins in the room upstairs. It looked… like an advanced form of the curse markings that Muraki had placed on and then removed from Hisoka's body. But this was worse. It was ten times worse. The markings were savage and bared more of a resemblance to a burning brand mark that had been seared into the flesh rather than tattooed. They resembled Muraki's to a par, though his markings covered the entirety of his body and appeared only at certain moments.

"The curse markings…" I whimpered, my voice revealing my dread. Watari's muffled whimpers turned to soft sobbing as the jagged markings made their way down along his left arm. He braced both hands against the floor, head down and teeth clenched, as though he were attempting to push himself through labor.

"Oh… _GOD!_" He cried, forehead pressed to the floor and fingers clenched in his hair, tugging in mindless suffering.

My mind was as tangled as his locks had become. "Watari, these marks… how did you get them?!"

_Were they Hisoka's? _Was what I really wondered. _Did Muraki transfer them from Hisoka to Watari somehow; instead of drawing them back into his own body like he'd promised?_

"Tsuzuki…" Watari's voice was weak and miserable. There was grief underlying his words and the pain present in his speech. "Do I really deserve… to be alive?"

Those words… they were the very same thoughts I'd had just before I'd been brought here. "I don't… I don't know what you're saying, Watari…"

Watari raised his head, forcing his stricken eyes to connect with mine. His forehead was beaded with sweat and his gums were starting to bleed from the pressure he was exerting through his clenched teeth.

"Don't pretend you don't ever wonder… Tsuzuki… Wonder what makes people like you and me… special enough to deserve to keep our wicked lives… when we see so many good people die and never receive that… that second chance." He lowered his face, eyes sliding shut again and his entire body trembling. No longer from the markings, as they ceased their progression at the joint of Watari's elbow. His tremors came from some suppressed emotion, an emotion I had never before seen from my strange and funny friend. "It's not fair…"

"Not fair?" I repeated, feeling as though I'd been reduced to nothing more than a sounding board.

Watari's loose hair hung limp about his face. "I'd trade my own life… if only it meant that she could have hers returned to her. That's what would be fair."

"Her…?" The name from the newspaper article loomed suddenly violent in my mind. "Do you mean Reiku?"

Watari's eyes shot open and flickered toward me with alarming clarity.

"Reiku? You know that name…?"

Instead of wasting time telling Watari the story of my intense search through the newspapers, I reached into my pocket and withdrew the article I had found. I handed it to him and watched his face carefully for a reaction. Somehow, I felt as though I had invaded Watari's privacy, though I had essentially done nothing wrong.

"Watari… is that you?" I tempted fate and pointed toward the picture of the alert young boy. Watari continued to stare at it as though he had never seen anything so startling as a newspaper. "The papers dated 1961. If you subtract your current age from today's date… well…" I paused to do the subtraction on my fingers but Watari beat me to it.

"In 1961 I was eight. Yes." He said, holding both sides of the page with hands that weren't quite steady. His face showed no discernable emotion, though it lacked his usual cheerful façade, which I supposed was very telling in its own right. "What on earth is this doing here…?"

I took a punt. "So… this is you." I concluded, tapping the picture with my index finger. Watari gave the smallest of sighs.

"Yeah… that's me. And this…" He pointed to the picture of the girl. "Was my eldest sister, Reiku. But you already knew that, right?" He handed me back the paper, flashing me a look that suggested I'd do best not to be so clever in future. My stomach knotted and I felt terrible at the confirmation. Somehow, it was like I had betrayed Watari for even finding these articles in the first place. I knew better than anyone why it was sometimes preferable to keep your past a secret. You don't want anyone's sympathy. You don't want to be judged. And you don't want anyone to see you as weak. It all comes down to pride and maintaining what delicate self-perception you have. If you hold nothing but negative values concerning yourself, then you're most certain to despair in deep darkness. Facing your past could be terrifying. And there were still many particulars of my past that no one, save Mr. Konoe, knew. The people I had killed on that regretful night… that night that haunted me even now, almost an entire century later.

Watari was only separated from this occurrence by forty-two years… whatever had happened would still be fresh in his mind. Like Hisoka, memories of that sort appeared difficult to placate. To say the least.

"I'm sorry…" I said, reaching out to cup his bare knee in the palm of my hand. "I'm sorry, kid… I didn't mean to pry. They were upstairs and I just-"

"You don't have to explain." Watari said, lifting his head and flashing that big Watari smile we all knew so well. "My sister and I came home alive. We weren't missing very long. You do what you gotta do when you think your life's on the line."

I didn't like the way he said 'do what you gotta do'. It left far too much open for speculation.

"Anyway," Watari concluded, climbing back to his feet and swaying unsteadily in an effort to keep his balance. "Let's find a way out of here."

I could still see the marks writhing on his flesh. "Watari… you didn't answer my question. How'd you get the marks?"

Watari leant his head back against the wall, one hand clutching his opposing elbow as though he felt suddenly insecure or alternatively, very sick. His eyes were cast downward toward the floor, his hair swaying across his line of sight.

"I was just in Kyoto," He stated, not appearing to be the least bit disturbed about his sudden location transition. "I was in a bar, interviewing witnesses and then… these guys drugged me, dragged me out the back… they were… they-" His face titled down even further and he didn't finish his sentence. He didn't have to. I had a very good idea of what he was going to say and my heart was sick for him.

"Watari…" I whispered, reaching my hand out hesitantly and then, when he didn't step away, brought it down gently to rest on the crown of his head. I stroked his hair softly, occasionally brushing the backs of my fingers across his forehead as though my touch might effectively soothe the memories from his troubled mind. I wish it were that easy. "Are you okay…? They didn't… they didn't rape you… did they?"

His breathing was heavy, his face resigned. He laughed without humor. "Not from lack of trying. They roughed me up pretty good but luckily… Oriya turned up just in time." A small smile crossed his features, though there was no warmth in it. "Huh… listen to me; 'Just in time'. Like it even matters anymore."

"Of course it matters, Watari." I said, trying my hardest to be sympathetic but finding that at the same time I was becoming just the slightest bit chaffed by his 'poor me' attitude. That wasn't like Watari at all. He had a right just like everyone to be upset but I guess that's just what I didn't expect of him. It's selfish I know but you come to depend on people for playing their certain roles. Watari's role certainly wasn't as a victim. He was the funny, light, optimistic one. The one you didn't have to concern yourself over being careful with. The one you could have a joke with and not worry about offending. I wasn't even sure how to deal with him when he was in one of these moods. What could I say? What was the _right _thing to say? I had little to no experience with this side of my friend, so how was I expected to effectively deal with it? I admit it; I was annoyed. I was annoyed with Watari, though he wasn't really to blame. I just wanted him to get through this hiccup, move on and overcome it and answer my questions.

I petted his head gently. "I'm glad Oriya was there to help you. But the markings… how did you get them…?"

His voice was soft. A barely discernable murmur. I had to lean close in order to catch the single word expelled from his lips.

"Demon."

I cocked my head. "Demon?"

He nodded. "A demon summoned it into me. I think… or he activated something already dormant in me Tsuzuki. Hell… I don't know! I don't _know!_ All I know is that it's there now and it's driving me nuts! Hisoka never mentioned that it burned like this!"

"Hisoka never told anyone much about how it afflicted him those years in the hospital." I reminded him, lowering my hand from Watari's head and gingerly touching the harshly branded markings that had coursed down the length of his upper arm. It almost resembled yakuza tattoos, though with suitably less artistry involved in the design. "Maybe it did burn before his death… or maybe it affects you differently because you're a Guardian, who knows?"

Watari's eyes darted up and met my own. He was clearly distressed. "But Hisoka's markings were cast by Muraki! A _demon _did this to me! There's got to be some connection, right? I mean… the markings are pretty much the same, aren't they?"

I looked over them with a critical eye. Though I hadn't spent much time examining Hisoka's curse scripture, as far as I could tell, they hadn't appeared to be nearly so malicious in nature as the marks Watari bore. This resembled burns more than tattoos. It looked terribly painful. I wondered if it felt as though Watari had been branded when the marks began to spread? For some reason, my mind flashed back to the wall cancer that had infected the room upstairs. I though of a virus, of a malignant tumor spreading through the body, killing all vital cells and shutting down organs. Only, this was a virus, a cancer, a sickness, and a tumor that you could _see_.

However, as terrified as I was for Watari, an equally large part of me was relieved that it was not Muraki who had been responsible for bestowing the scripture upon him. Muraki had been with me when Watari had been attacked, I assumed that much. A demon had done it.

Which begged the question; why was a demon using Muraki's signature curse?

Having failed to answer his previous question, Watari pulled himself away from me gently and took a step outwards into the room. His eyes strayed from right to left and then he reversed that previous step he had just taken. His hands were poised out in front of him, as though he had been in the midst of grasping something between them. I wondered what the problem was now and immediately berated myself for being so impatient with him. God knows, he had shown me nothing but patience following Kyoto; the least I could do was expend some small token gesture of it on his behalf.

"Something wrong?" I asked, fearing it was a rhetorical question at best. Watari's body posture clearly indicated that there was indeed something amiss.

"This place…" He started, his voice trailing away to nothing. It seemed there was no end to that sentence. I stepped up beside him, taking in the less than interesting surroundings with an unresponsive air.

"Yeah, I know… it's seriously uber creepy but we've seen worse, right? Heck, depending on the day my bedroom could almost top this! Let's just get moving… gotta be a way outta here somehow, right?"

If I'd been hoping that this would be an effective remedy to shifting our asses from the corner, I was one seriously naïve, not to mention completely unobservant, Guardian of Death. Watari continued to remain in his chosen pose, completely rooted to the spot. I ducked my head around to get a good look at his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging slack, his breaths short and sharp.

"Do you know where this place is?" He asked, though I don't think he expected an answer. I provided none, knowing instinctively that by his tone, Watari knew very well the place in which we had been steeped and that he would tell me in all due time.

We stood in silence, respectful to whatever horror had transformed Watari into a frozen thing. I watched as he licked dry lips, his hands tilting downward ever so slowly until they rested at his sides, fisted into tight little knots. His eyes slowly creased until they were slanted windows of hatred and contempt. I could feel the spiteful radiance burn from his body like a lit aura.

"This place…" He hissed and I prayed to whatever God I may or may not have believed in, that I would never hear Watari speak in such a contemptible tone again. "This… place… _has no doors or windows._"

This seemed a rather odd thing to say but I felt there was more to it than just the words, so I remained silent, waiting for Watari to elaborate. He did not disappoint.

"This room," He began again, "Was made specifically so that one man could practice his wicked and sinful indulgences until exhaustion claimed him. He said it was meant to represent Hell, buried deep in the bowels of the earth, where the usual forbidden atrocities and aberrant sensations of the land above, were freely practiced without the hindering of laws, rules, perception or judgment. In Hell, there are no doors and no windows. In Hell there is no light. Only darkness. You cannot even see what is coming for you until it touches you in the dark." He slid his arms slowly around his middle and clutched the sides of the gown tightly between his fists. "I can't believe I'm here again… I don't wanna see this place anymore!"

I no longer doubted what had happened to Watari all those years ago. In 1961 he and his sister had been brought here, to this makeshift 'Hell' beneath the earth. And here, they had been subjected to the unrestrained desires of the sick bastard who must have resided over them as the Devil unto sinners. In Hell, there was no atrocity too great. Sin had only one place to return. And once there, you cannot be sent any lower.

Enter Hell and you are free.

The suffering of the Watari siblings must have been abominable to say the very least.

I stepped up behind Watari and gently squeezed each arm between my hands.

"Let's find a way out of here, Watari. Whatever happened here is over now. It's over. You don't have to stay in Hell any longer."

**- _End Part One-_**


	19. Tsuzuki: Be all my Sins Remember'd Pt: 2

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer: **It is not mine. Descendants of Darkness, that is. Dark Adaptation is mine. Even the psychological term is mine. I also own one dog, a Queen sized bed, one noisy rumbling laptop, a rather twitchy eyebrow and one glass of caffeine.

**Tsuzuki**

It took a good few minutes for Watari to calm down completely. At last his breathing returned to normal and the anger slowly leaked from his face, until the harsh lines on his forehead had soothed out. He looked up slowly and met my eyes, pulling his face into a smile. I could see the effort it took just for this small gesture.

"Yeah, you're right." He stepped out of my embrace and clutched my wrist, pulling me along behind him. "Come on, let's go. The sooner we get out of here the better."

I nodded and allowed myself to be led back over to the trapdoor. Watari placed one hand on the rungs of the ladder I had missed on my impromptu descent and lifted his foot off of the ground, setting it on the lower most rung. He started pulling himself up but I grabbed the shoulder of his gown in order to delay him.

"Um… maybe you should let me go first." I suggested, gesturing at his garment again. Watari raised an eyebrow clearly misconstruing my meaning.

"Tsuzuki… I'm not so physically inept that I'm going to fall off of the ladder and land on you." He snorted. He looked offended.

I waved my hands hastily, assuring him I meant no slur. "It's not the falling that worries me… although now I think about it-"

Watari punched me in the shoulder with his free hand. He punched me _hard_. I reeled from the impact.

"Hey!" I guess I underestimated just how upset he really was. My shoulder was throbbing. "I was joking! I just think you should let me go first because of what you're _wearing_."

Watari's eyes widened in realization and he glanced down as though to reaffirm that he was barely clothed.

"Ah." With an embarrassed look he stepped back from the ladder and swept his hand out in front of him. "Right. Um… sorry. You first then."

I moved toward the ladder, massaging my shoulder and resisting the urge to smack Watari back. Regardless of how bad he was feeling, that punch was uncalled forAnd it had_ really _hurt. Taking a perfunctory glance under my shirt, I could see the red welt flaring violently against my slightly tanned flesh.

"Interesting…" Watari murmured, following my line of sight. "The fact that I could even strike you and leave a mark upon your skin… and that such a minor infliction hasn't healed in a matter of seconds… Fascinating." He glanced about, adjusting his glasses as though that might aid his assessment. "Just what kind of place is this? Are our bodies actually here or just our consciousness'?"

"Well when you figure that out, let me know." I said, diverting my face so that he couldn't see me roll my eyes. When it came to figuring out intellectual issues, I preferred to leave the thinking up to others. Right now, I didn't care if my brain was here while my ass was being used as a soccer ball in Alaska. I just wanted to get my _figurative_ ass out of there as quickly as possible.

Watari sighed. "There's no need to be sarcastic. Just because _you _have no desire for higher knowledge doesn't mean the rest of us-"

I spun around, both feet already on the lower rung of the ladder. "Look, we can discuss this _later._" I snarled through gritted teeth. "Do you wanna get out of here or what?"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Watari said, raising both hands in defense. "You're right. It's not important. Let's just go."

"Right." I started up the ladder, holding the key chain clenched between my teeth. The floor above was still sheathed in darkness and nothing moved. Though why exactly I expected something to do so probably had more to do with the atmosphere and what might have been anticipated of it, more so than my initial nervousness. By the time I was halfway up the ladder, Watari started after me and moments later I was hauling him out of the trapdoor and onto the floor above. As I shut the trapdoor, Watari took initiative and plucked the key chain out from between my teeth and shone the light at the surrounding walls. His expression, though mostly coveted in darkness, appeared troubled.

"What's wrong now?" I asked. I didn't mean to sound impatient but I was getting awfully weary of Watari's extreme reactions to everything. I'm sure the entire situation was rather unsettling for him and that was all the more reason to get the Hell out as soon as possible.

"This isn't right." He said and I was relieved to hear that his voice sounded as usually composed as it always did. "The basement is the same room I remember… but _this _room… no, this isn't right. The walls are too… tall. The passages too wide. It's too sophisticated."

"Watari… who _cares?_" I snitched, not particularly caring how ornery I sounded. "I don't know _what _this place is, or how we got here or even why the Hell we're here! None of this makes sense! Why should the building _logistics_ make sense, for God sake?"

"I don't know!" Watari yelled and the high pitch of his voice was enough to chastise me thoroughly. "Why are you so angry at me?"

I felt my voice lose its sharp clarity and pitch to a defensive insistence. "Because you're fussing over the most irrelevant things! Why should the _walls _matter?"

"Why?! _Why? _Because I think I've figured something out!" Watari jabbed his finger down at the trapdoor. "I was whisked here once before. Only for a moment, on the way to Kokakuro. That kid was here, that Pandora."

"He was?" Now I was interested, I admit it. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Well it's not like we've had a great deal of conversations since I started the investigation." He made his way over to the wall and leaned close to examine the paintwork. At least I guess that's what he was doing. With Watari, who knows? "Anyway, I came here once before. And Pandora – he said he created this place. But I don't know how true that is. I think anything we stumble across here, is pulled straight from our memories. He said he uses the places that stick in our minds. For whatever reason. I wager the reasons are predominately traumatic. Those are the memories that are hardest to shake, after all."

I considered. It didn't _seem _too outlandish; if you took into account the higher powers that we were possibly dealing with.

"Okay, so say that's true. How does that explain _this _then?" I gestured at our surroundings. "Nothing traumatic has ever happened to me in a place with wide white walls and tall ceilings."

"No?" Watari said. He shone the light behind me. "How about that? Does that jog any memories?"

I followed the lights direction, already sure that I wasn't going to like whatever 'that' had been ascribed to. I wasn't wrong.

The light reflected off of rusted metal and bounced across various creased edges of what may once have been white sheets. The wheels of the hospital gurney had been bent askew and the front appeared to have been violently rammed against the far wall. As I watched, horror stricken, the gurney's level of balance tilted and it painfully started to roll back from the wall. No… it wasn't moving on its own. It hadn't been there when I had passed through mere minutes ago. This had only just occurred whilst I had been in the basement. The gurney was still somewhat in motion.

"Oh my God…" I whispered. I felt my knees threatening to collapse beneath me and I had to brace my hand against the wall to keep myself from falling. The high ceilings… the long corridors… it all made sense to me now. "The hospital… This floor is the goddamn hospital…"

Watari nodded, though he didn't seem pleased about being right. He diverted the light away from the gurney and brought its' glare back down towards the ground.

"It's basically featureless, so I couldn't tell myself. I was only sure when I saw that." He flicked the light quickly back at the gurney and then redirected it before I had a chance to focus too hard on it. I wasn't certain but in that small piece of illumination, I was sure I could see patches of blood staining the sheets. "There's nothing else around here that might indicate we're in a hospital. Except for the floor of course." He stamped his foot and the noise echoed all the way down the hall. "Ahh… stereotypical creepy hospital echo. Gotta love it."

"But of course it's featureless…" I said, more to myself than to Watari. Nevertheless, I could see his face turning back to focus on me. "I was so messed up back then… I don't even remember much about the hospital. I just remember looking around at the walls as I was wheeled back and forth into surgery…" I could see that memory resurfacing in my mind even as I spoke of it. My bleary, half lidded eyes gazing with distorted perception at the blank white plaster as it zoomed behind the railings of the gurney used to transport hospital patients. The ceiling lights flashing by in a blur overhead. "I can only remember very few things… even the faces of the nurses and doctors I have no recollection of. … I think you're right, Watari…" I swallowed with difficulty, and then forced myself to continue. "Why would a hospital look like this, if it _wasn't _plucked straight from my memory? It would be whole otherwise… this is just like some drug-induced version of the hospital. A deluded mans' memories… God Watari… we're walking on our memories…"

"Don't be so morbid." Watari said, our roles suddenly and dramatically reversed. He grabbed me by my inside elbow and tugged me close, leaning forward so that we were eye to eye. "Remember what you said to me before? Memories are only memories. Whatever happened here is over. Isn't that right?"

I forced myself to nod. It was better than thinking about whose blood it was on those sheets.

"Our own consciousness is responsible for this, Tsuzuki. And that means we have a certain level of control. So if that's the case…" He smiled at me hopefully. "-could you _please, _zap me out of this ridiculous outfit?"

"Huh?" It took me a while to click to what he was suggesting. "_I _didn't put you in that!" I spluttered.

"Well it sure as Hell isn't a part of _my _memory!" Watari exclaimed, giving the edge of the paper gown a disdainful little tug. "The most I wore down in that room was a sheet! If I was lucky, a pair of underpants!"

"Would you _prefer_ to be running around in just a pair of underpants?" I said, maybe a little nastily. I couldn't help it. I was tired and scared and tired of being scared. It was so much easier to just be remiss of my manners then go to the effort to demonstrating them.

"No. But a pair of underpants along with _this _would be nice." Watari shifted about, clearly uncomfortable being clothed in only paper. "Couldn't you just – you know, try concentrating on giving me my normal clothes?"

"Like I said," I was getting frustrated. "I'm not responsible for your little adult store getup. I have no idea why you're wearing that!"

"That makes two of us!" Watari fussily tucked his hair behind his ear. It was a habit of his that became perpetually frequent when he was either annoyed or anxious. I could see I was in for a lot of hair tucking. "Look, if you're not going to zap me out of this number could you at least lend me some of your clothing? You have more than enough!"

"Forget it." I said, shortly, pulling my jacket in around me. "You're not having any of my clothes."

Watari's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Tsuzuki, we've been through a lot you and I. I have supported you, dragged you home drunk from bars, put you to bed, mopped up your vomit, analyzed the most ridiculous and insubstantial evidence you have ever brought to me and all I ask for, besides a guinea pig on certain key occasions, is that you give me some small token of clothing in this freezing cold asylum and you actually _refuse _me. That hurts."

"Whatever. I'm cold." I snapped back. Maybe just a little too cruel, considering what I had learnt of my dear friends' past, so far.

"You're cold? _You're _cold?" Watari's eyes were turning into beady little embers. Quite an achievement, considering he was wearing his wide, telescope lens glasses. "You're cold, alright. Cold hearted. Think about _me! _I'm wearing a paper dress for the love of God! My legs are one big giant goose pimple!"

"There's a very good chance that those are just your natural pimples." I said, sympathetically. Watari punched my shoulder again. In the exact same spot. "Yowch! You bastard!"

"You're the bastard. Just lend me your boxers! I can put them underneath the dress."

I'm sure my expression was one of pure mortification. "My _boxers?_"

Watari gave me a sly look. "You do wear them don't you? Or is this just your roundabout way of telling me you're freeballing?"

I didn't know what freeballing meant but I wasn't about to clue Watari in to my ignorance. "Of _course _I'm wearing them! I just don't know how I feel about _you _wearing them."

"Are you suggesting I'm not _hygienic _enough for your _precious_ boxers?" Watari snapped, looking cross. I shook my head.

"That's not it! I'm not that rude!"

Watari looked mildly relieved for a moment. "That's good then."

"I'm just worried you'd stretch them. I mean, I'm fond of you and all but let's face it Watari, you ain't exactly a lightweight round the hip area if you get my drift."

SMACK! I started to wonder if my shoulder had popped out of joint. Watari glared at me as I rubbed my newly acquired bruise, possibly considering slamming me into the wall with the aforementioned hospital gurney if his expression was anything to judge by.

"They _will _fit." The blond said, threateningly. I wondered if he was directing this threat at my underwear or me. "I'll _make _them fit. So why don't you just hand them over like a nice little Chastity-boy and we can get ourselves moving out of this here hallway. You might think it's cold by your standards but put yourself in _my _paper dress. I'm getting a draft. And it isn't nearly as refreshing as Marilyn Monroe made it look standing over that grate if you catch _my _drift."

I winced. "Point taken. I'll be back in a moment."

"Don't wander off." Watari called as I crept around the nearest corner and converted it into an impromptu changing room. "We don't know what else might be lurking around here."

I figured that exercising caution in a place like this was only common sense but I didn't say anything. Watari and I were already snipping at one another like a long married couple, I certainly didn't need to add to that.

Once I was around the corner, I wished immediately that I'd brought the key chain light with me. The hallway beyond was pitch black and the gurney was less than five feet from my back. I put all my effort into ignoring it and hastened to unbuckle my pants, keeping my ears peeled for the smallest sound that may have come from the darkness. I didn't much fancy the thought of standing around in that unfamiliar place with my pants around my ankles and I worked quickly to extricate myself from my boxers, stepping neatly out of the legs and then hastily yanking my trousers back up around my hips. As I buckled my belt and rethreaded the button through the hole, a loud crash emitted from the hallway in which Watari was standing. Startled, I yanked the zipper of my pants up without first clearing it. My coinciding shriek provided a fine example of the 'stereotypical creepy hospital echo.'

"Tsuzuki?! Are you okay?" Watari popped his head around the corner, none the bit concerned as to whether or not I was modest first. I managed to flash an 'okay' sign with my fingers, even as I was bending in double from the excruciating stabs of pain flickering up from my pelvis region.

"Fine, I'm fine! Just didn't clear the zipper."

Watari clenched his teeth sympathetically. "Silly boy. Were you startled by that big crash just before?"

"Yes!" I growled, finding the strength to kneel down and retrieve my since vacated boxer shorts. I held them out to Watari, hoping he wouldn't inspect the pattern on them too closely. "What was that anyway? You scared me half to death! No pun intended."

Watari took the boxers off of me with a grateful expression. "Thanks. Oh and as for that crash, I found another door down this hall. It was hidden behind a big pile of boxes."

I nodded. "Yeah, I passed by those before. They were filled with newspapers, right?"

"Yeah. They caught me by surprise, being so heavy and all. I was just examining one of them and then the box fell and-" He made a raspberry noise and gestured with his hands enthusiastically, indicating a number of objects crashing down like an avalanche. "- down they all came. But there was a door behind it. I may need your help moving some of the other boxes aside. Oh and speaking of boxes-" He held up my boxer shorts. "-_love _the design, Tsuzuki. I never thought anyone actually wore love heart print boxers but as usual you're the exception, good buddy."

"Oh shut up." I said, feeling my face flush with embarrassment. "I think they're cute."

"I'm sure Muraki does too." Watari added covertly, holding the boxers down at ankle height and then stepping into them. "And don't you worry, I won't tell that jealous cad I'm wearing your underwear. God forbid he might get all the wrong ideas about us. I'll wake up one morning with my balls in my mouth!"

"And yet you'll still be able to talk around them." I said, unable to hide my pleased expression at the shocked look this elicited. Usually I'm not very good at comebacks but that one was gold.

Watari's stunned look eventually melted into a wide smile and he actually chuckled as he pulled my boxers into place.

"Are you saying I have really small balls, or just a really big mouth?" He asked with a grin. Watari never really minded if the joke was on him, just as long as it was funny.

"Perhaps a little of both." I said, chuckling. I was feeling nominally more pleasant, so I shrugged off my jacket and handed it to him. "Here, put this on too. I'll be fine in just my shirt and trousers. And you'll probably catch your death in that skimpy thing."

"Cheers Tsuzuki." Watari gratefully accepted the jacket and pulled it on over the paper dress, buttoning it up at the front. I was broader in the chest and wider in the shoulders than Watari, so it hung a little loose on him but there wasn't much that could be done to coordinate his outfit. To be honest, he did look a little ridiculous. He was wearing a black suit jacket, over a white paper dress, with boxer shorts peeking out from underneath that. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

"What?" Watari said, catching my expression. I guess I hadn't been that careful after all.

"Nothing!" I said, no longer bothering to hide my smile. "Let's go move those boxes, shall we?"

We made our way back around the corner and into the adjacent hallway. Watari was right. There _had _been a door hidden behind the carefully stacked boxes. It was a large steel double door; such as you might see in a warehouse or storage room. Most of the boxes near the top of the doorway had been pushed away by Watari's clumsy efforts. Newspapers were spilled out across the length of the hallway, various black and white headlines glaring up at us from the floor. Most of the doorway was still obstructed however and I could see that it would take some effort to remove what was left of the blockage.

I glanced over at the blond and flashed him my most encouraging smile. "Well, let's get cracking."

Watari sighed, flexing his insubstantial little biceps. "Damn… what a pain. We scientists aren't meant for heavy lifting, you know."

That was Watari's makeshift Dr. Spock excuse for everything. _'We scientists aren't meant for- (insert respective task here')_. It didn't matter that every Guardian of Death, no matter how physically inept in life, had twice the strength of your average man. Sometimes I wondered whether Watari was just plain lazy.

"If you had your way, scientists would be meant for nothing but making weird potions and shagging swordsmen. Now come on!" I strode over and grabbed the first box I saw, lifting it easily enough and carrying it over to the far side of the hallway. "The sooner we unearth this door, the sooner we find out what's behind it."

"I sure hope it's worth all this effort." Watari groaned, following suite and selecting possibly the smallest box in the pile. He carried it over and placed it down on the floor beside my box with an exaggerated moan. "Speaking of swordsmen, I sure wish Ori was here. He'd have no trouble moving all these boxes." He sighed dramatically. "But I left him all alone in an alleyway strewn with disembodied corpses, to fight a psychotic mini-skirt wearing demon with only my gender confused djinni to help him."

"Wow." I said, grabbing hold of the next box and bringing it over. "Bet he's glad he hooked up with you."

Watari grinned impishly. "Oh, he's far too nice to admit when he's made a mistake."

I was suddenly feeling quite chatty. Now that I was sort of involved in a serious relationship with someone (with Muraki, I'm never quite sure how to phrase that) talking about these kinds of matters suddenly felt more comfortable. And no, the disembodied corpses thing actually wasn't of much interest to me. That's a routine conversation topic in the Bureau. Relationship issues… now _there's _interesting for ya!

"Yeah. You'd be countin' your blessings for more than that!" I chuckled, dumping my box and heading back for my third. "I mean it's not every day a supermodel falls into your lap, is it?"

Watari went silent and so ignorant was I, that it took a full minute before I realized the reason why. Apparently, I'd offended him.

"Oh… Watari I didn't mean it like _that_."

Watari waved a hand congenially, nearly dropping the box he was carrying. I couldn't see his face very well but the tone of his voice indicated that he wasn't angry with me. Not that I didn't deserve it, mind.

"No, it's okay. Actually, I've kind of been wondering the same thing myself."

This was certainly unexpected. Watari wasn't exactly your insecure kind of guy. Nor was he overtly confident. Rather, he seemed to be one of those people that floated through life in a carefree manner, wholly content with who he was and how those he associated with perceived him.

Watari placed his box down gingerly and stretched upward, the bones in his shoulders popping as the tension was released. His smile was malleable and genuine.

"I'm not sure why a guy who's got so much going for him, would bother with someone like me… though, I have seen weirder couples than us!"

I wondered if he'd just developed lazy eye, if he'd been purposefully looking in my direction when he'd said that. I grunted as I lifted one of the final few boxes and pushed it aside, not worrying about stacking it up with the others.

"Muraki and I are _not _a couple." I said, having decided that it was indeed us that Watari had been referring to. "Sure it's a weird _arrangement_… but it's hardly mutual! Totally him, y'know! I don't have ANY sort of feelings towards him of ANY sort… Just in case you were thinking that!"

Watari was looking at me curiously and I realized my blabbermouth had taken me too far as usual. Hoping to redirect the conversation, I shoved the last couple of boxes aside, revealing the steel entranceway in all its' glory.

"Well, there's the door. Shall we go?"

"Let's." Watari agreed, moving over to stand beside me. I wanted to wipe that smug little smile right off of his face. "Before you stick your foot any further up your ass than you already have."

I felt my face flushing violently and looked away from him, even though he wasn't likely to see my embarrassment in the dark. With a resigned nod, I pressed both hands against the door bars and pushed hard, expecting them to swing open immediately. They rattled dangerously in their hinges but didn't move an inch. I tried pulling next but that was even less helpful. As I rotated between pushing and pulling with close to hysterical determination, Watari tapped me on the shoulder and pointed something out with the key chain light.

"Lookie." He said, though I guessed that's what he wanted me to do in the first place. I let go of the door handles and glanced down to where the light was aimed. It was a keypad. 9 numbered buttons in total, the wiring leading into the wall. I groaned, smacking my hand against the door.

"Great, just great!" I cursed, not bothering to hide my frustration. "It's locked by a code. Now we'll have to go wandering about looking for the damn password, just so we can get through!"

"Actually, I don't think we'll need to go far." Watari corrected, bringing the flashlight over and shining it on the left hand door, not an inch or so from my face. I blinked in the harsh illumination and squinted at what appeared to be a long string of words, written in red and sequenced into shabbily constructed stanzas.

"What is this? Some kind of poem?" I wondered. I leant close and read the scrawled hiragana and katakana out loud:

**The Face of the Sinner**

The face of the Sinner stares up upon you

An amethyst gaze, so tender and true

Retribution calls, the damned pray in hope

By dawn the felons shall swing by a rope

But what mask wears each sinner?

What does each soul deserve?

What crimes are their memories?

How many will burn?

Should you wish to proceed

To the answers within

Solve these sins that are not yet sinned

This mans thoughts, for one alone

His crimes so deep he could never atone

He declares his love, then hides his heart

He means to tear your mind apart

Hear the words he speaks for you

These silent words are his most true

Eight numbers hide inside these words,

The key to tomorrow within each verse

Should you wish to see within

Solve these sins that are not yet sinned

"Your amethyst eyes, so deep and so true---

You are looking at me as I am looking at you.

You wear no pain but the marks on each wrist

The perfection of time and every last kiss

I place my finger upon your lips

My every breath fumbles and trips

My heart is in turmoil

Your innocence remains unspoiled

Ah, how you torment me!

Your beautiful smile, your sumptuous lips

Before my crimes, you deny salvation

I must destroy you, to destroy myself

I lean forward and kiss your mouth

Would you shiver and curse my name?

Ah, but I know your weakness' as well as you know your own

That is your sin, your contemptible shame

I taste your tongue, you close your eyes

Before I know it, my teeth bite down

So now you scream, and thrash and cry

The blood drips down onto the ground

But still you are so beautiful

How can your blood arouse me so?

I clutch your face with my right hand

And sink my lips upon your nose

The taste! Your screams! The more that I need!

I drag my nails across your cheek

The blood that spurts, your painful shrieks

A melody of destruction weeps

What should be next? I can't decide?

To tear from you, your ears or eyes?

Into darkness you could disappear

Or your own sweet screams you would not hear.

At first the left, so the right will hear

Then the right, the cartilage soft and sweet

Down your face, flow your guiltless tears

I lap the warmth from each round cheek

The last you see, before darkness descends

Are both my thumbs upon each eye

Your screams are mute, your thoughts are dead

'Goodbye to the light, my love. Goodbye."

Eight numbers hide inside these words,

The key to tomorrow within each verse

Should you wish to see within

Solve these sins that are not yet sinned

"Cute." I said sarcastically.

"It's a puzzle." Watari deduced, stepping around me and leaning close to the door, index finger and thumb pressed against his chin in the classical gesture of curiosity. "And it's more than obscure enough to be incredibly annoying."

I took a step back from the doorway, one arm positioned protectively before my face.

"It's damn sick, that's what it is! Who the Hell would write something like that? And for what reason? Forget about it. It's not gonna help us get through the door any faster, now is it?"

"I beg to differ." Watari released his chin and set his hand on the title of the poem. He worked his fingers down to mark each stanza, such as children moved their hands when reciting the 'Eensy Weensy Spider' song. "The answer is right here in front of us, we're just not meant to see it right away. Whoever wrote this lyrical verse wants us to think about this a little."

Judging from the complexity of the poem, I gathered this unknown poet wanted us to think about his or her words for the next century or so. On my own I sincerely doubted that I would have been able to decipher the obscure jargon. I couldn't get through a crossword puzzle without running to Tatsumi for help! I may have been a detective, but that shouldn't have suggested that I enjoyed straining my brain over every little detail I was presented with. I much preferred things to be straightforward. My perplexing relationship with Muraki had already tested my mental acuity to the limit; I was certainly in no mood for this sort of nonsense!

"I don't wanna think about it." I said, knowing I sounded childish, though not particularly caring. I was so tired and fed up with being jerked around all the time. Lately I'd felt like nothing but a dancing puppet on the end of tangled strings, being jerked here and there about the place but unable to be properly directed whilst the knots remained. To be honest, I didn't even want to _try _figuring the poem out. I had no idea where to begin. My brain hurt just _thinking_ about working on it!

I sighed; a deep physical representation of my weariness and sat down hard on the white floor, chin cupped in my hands and elbows rested on my knees.

"I never thought I'd hear myself say this… but I kind of wish Muraki was here." I said, pulling the small journal out of my shirt pocket and flicking back through the pages. You know… in case the door code had been scribbled there, undetected by my previous examination. "I bet he'd get a real kick from deciphering such a gory puzzle as this."

Watari glanced down at me and plucked the key chain light out of my hand, bringing the light back over to the door. He pursed his lips and made a few 'put-put-put' sounds, then tucked his hair behind his ear. All his very worst and most annoying habits were making their appearance now.

"You're probably not going to like this Tsuzuki but hear me out -" He tapped the first stanza and then the sixth, one after the other. "- I think there's a good possibility that _Muraki _is our poet."

"_Eh?!_" I shot back to my feet in flash, so quickly in fact that the resulting breeze momentarily blew Watari's paper dress askew. Now I was definitely glad I'd leant him my boxers. "Muraki? How could _Muraki _be the poet? Are you saying he's wandering around here somewhere?" Instantly I spun around and scanned the hallway behind me, just to be sure that the perverted physician wasn't slouching up behind me to validate his presence. Thankfully I was met with nothing but the eternal searing darkness, so black it looked wet. No crystal blue eye pierced me through the gloom.

Watari shuddered. "I certainly hope not. I mean – no offense to _you _Mr. 'Hey-we'll-probably-maybe-possibly-be-doing-it-soon', but that guy _really _isn't my cup of tea. Gives me the creeps, actually."

I nodded. "That's okay. He hates you too." I ignored his huffy expression and joined him in front of the door again. "So, why do you think Muraki was responsible for this? Which stanza's did you point out again – the first and sixth ones, right?"

"Right." He affirmed, shining the key chain light back to the top of the poem so that I could read it again. "It just sounds to me as though the entire poem itself has been written about you, from Muraki's perspective. Don't you think?"

I re-read the two stanzas Watari had indicated and then read the entire poem from beginning to end, just to be sure. It _did _sort of sound like something Muraki would say about me… or rather _think _about me.

"He _did _once say he would have to destroy me, because he loved me so much." I confessed, not even pausing long enough to feel embarrassed about that candid conversation so long ago in Kyoto. "There is a mention of that here… and the color of my eyes…" I scowled. "Damn… why does there always need to be a mention of _that? _Isn't my beautiful personality worth noting from time to time?"

"Not particularly." Watari teased. Before I could smack him for the offending comment, the markings on his arm starting to glow a vibrant red and he clutched the joint of his elbow where they had ceased their progression, gritting his teeth against the pain. I leaned close, placing my hand on the center of his back.

"Is it spreading again?" I asked, wondering if perhaps I was more fearful of the brandings than he was. Watari breathed deeply and straightened up, pulling his lips back into his usual trademark smile. I was starting to resent that smile. When compared to the times when he was truly happy, I couldn't help but see the reality of just how cold his face was at moments such as this. When he smiled not for his benefit but as a means of reassuring those that might have otherwise offered him sympathy.

Just as one hand blocks and the other one welcomes. That smile was telling me to back off. Don't help me. Don't sympathize with me. _I'm fine._

"Hey, instead of wasting effort on worrying about me, how 'bout putting a bit of noggin into figuring out this puzzle, eh?"

I grumbled audibly as I looked back over toward the red lettering scribbled down the door.

"What's there to figure out? Someone, who _might _be Muraki, wrote me a Valentine, big deal. I'll be happy just so long as he doesn't actually _do _any of that crap to me. _Then _we might have issues."

Watari nodded thoughtfully, squinting at the small text on the door. He'd always had problems with his eyesight. Without his glasses he was practically blind. I wasn't sure how he coped at nighttime. He told me once that he sort of just bumps into things and ricochets around his apartment. I suggested he get contacts once but he just shrugged it off, explaining that he got a bit creeped out by anything touching his eyes. Yeah, one of those eyeball people. The kind you can gross out by pulling back your eyelid and poking the corner of your eyeball. I bet just reading the lines in the poem about 'Muraki' putting my eyes out with his thumbs was disturbing him. Not that he was the only one mind.

"You notice how there's a common theme?" Watari was still musing, still convinced that the answer was right here before us. "See? The last few lines all but tell us that the numbers to open the door are right here in front of us! It's an 8 number combination…" He looked over, noticing the calico journal clutched in one of my hands. "You got a pen? I think we'll need to write this down as we figure it out…"

"Good luck with that!" I snorted but nonetheless tried to be useful by searching my pockets for anything that might have passed for a pen. It just so happened that I had a small pencil nub in my shirt pocket. I usually kept it there for emergencies – you know, if I went out drinking and happened to meet someone who needed me to write down my number… Hey, it _has _happened before! And what I wouldn't have _done _for a pen on those occasions in which I didn't have one.

I pried open the calico journal and exposed a blank page, readying the pencil nub astride one of the blue lines. Watari stepped back from the doorway, arms crossed, thinking. I waited for the impending epiphany, drumming the pencil impatiently and watching the light from the key chain dancing across the door. Watari took his sweet time. We stood in silence for two minutes, at the very least.

"The theme…" Watari finally announced, in his very best Old Testament voice. " – is both sin… and a face. It is _your _face but the puzzle is directing us to look outside of the literal sense. Notice the first stanza? It is outside of the reference to Muraki's… 'thoughts' as they were and they refer to the face of the sinner 'looking _up _upon you.' The 'you' in the poem is actually 'us'. So 'something' is looking up at us. What's below our direct eye line, Tsuzuki?"

"Don't ask me." I sighed, chewing on the end of the pencil. "You're the scientist here, not me."

"As you so constantly remind me with your belligerent attitude." He was all but trying to keep from snapping at me. "Could you at least _pretend _to be helpful?"

"Helpful? Right. I'll show you helpful." I slammed the book shut and shoved it into my shirt pocket again, positioning my now vacated hands before my body in the summoning preparation position. "I'll summon one of the 12 Gods to blow this door to pieces. To Hell with the damn poem!"

"Our powers don't work here." Watari insisted. But I got the feeling he was only assuming that and hadn't actually attempted to use them. His powers were hopeless in the best of situations. Yeah that's right, you heard me. "If they did, I'd use your pencil and draw an opening through the door for us to step through."

I snorted. "Your powers have been so crap lately, I'd be worried the opening would close around my middle!"

Watari shone the light in my eyes, momentarily blinding me.

"Don't forget it was those crap powers that snatched you out of Hakushaku's perverted storybook, Tsuzuki." He reminded me as I rubbed my eyes feverishly. Dots continued to dance across my vision even when Watari had redirected the small beam. "It hurts me to realize that even Tatsumi has more faith in my powers than you!"

I made to retort to his words but realized there was no point in continuing along with that argument. He was right, in a sense. It was better to focus our efforts on overcoming this particular barrier, rather than using it to conjure up new reasons to snipe at one another. I guess I was just frustrated with the way things had been going lately. Also, I didn't exactly relish the idea of examining the poem in depth. The theme of decimation and the imbibing of my facial features were all too reminiscent of what had passed between Muraki and I just before I had stepped into this nightmare world. Only the poem didn't make any indication of the cannibalistic nature having a means to an end, as such, restoring his spiritual essence. It was harsh, violent and completely and utterly focused on Muraki's personal vendetta against my face.

- and suddenly, I had it. I knew how the poem worked, if not the exact solution.

"The theme is a face…" I murmured, moving around Watari to stand before the keypad. I leant down close to it. Closer still. "If I'm not mistaken… ah! It makes sense!"

Watari nodded, with no small amount of satisfaction. "Ah… so the ball finally drops. Yep. The keypad-"

"Represents a face!" I couldn't help myself. I slapped Watari a high five, not caring how dorky it looked. "It's below our line of sight, so the face is looking up at us!" That's when I felt my own face physically drop. "Wait… but that keypad looks nothing like a face!"

Watari nodded, tapping the corner of the flat surface with his nail. "No but you said it yourself. It doesn't so much _look _like a face. But then again, it doesn't have to. It is only meant to _represent _a face. Let's take a closer look, shall we?"

**1 2 3**

**4 5 6**

**7 8 9**

The more I looked at it, the less sense it seemed to make to me.

"Yeah… That keypad and I? Separated at birth. We could be twins."

"You're just not looking at this metaphorically!" Watari scolded, who contrary to my dull mood seemed quite cheerful. Right, I forgot. The man loves a challenge. Hated losing but liked the process of deconstructing a conundrum that any other normal person would have found mentally tenuous. "Think of the human face and then compare the number pad. You could actually assign each number to a part of the face. Look." He put his right hand over his face, fingers branching across his forehead, pinky finger and thumb resting on his cheekbones. "The eyes are somewhat at the top of the head, right? So… 1 and 3 would be the eyes…"

I ran my fingers across the top of my face, brushing aside my bangs to expose my forehead.

"Um… actually the eyes are more towards the center of the face…" I offered, running my fingers down to brush across my eyelashes. I could remember Muraki doing that at some stage and wondered if I would ever be able to let him do it again without thinking back to this poem and its stanza devoted to eye gouging. "So, wouldn't 4 and 6 be the eyes and 1, 2 and 3 the forehead?"

The scientist shook his head. "Uh-uh. I thought that myself at first but the forehead couldn't possibly be divided up into three sections. The poem doesn't refer to the forehead at all, so I think we can safely eradicate that from the equation. I really think that 1 and 3 refer to the eyes. Could you write that down for me?"

I removed the book from my pocket and quickly drew a copy of the keypad onto one of the blank pages. It was hard to see what I was doing in the dark. Still, I was able to draw two arrows indicating numbers 1 and 3 as the eyes of our 'figurative' face.

"What would 4 and 6 be then, do you think?" I asked, once I had finished. Watari turned to face me, holding his hands up to his ears and pulling on them so that they stuck out slightly.

"The ears are below the eyes on each side of the head." He explained, bringing his fingers forward towards his nose. "Notice my nose is in the middle, between the ears? Both the nose and the ears are referred to, so I think they're a pretty safe bet."

I jotted that down and examined the representation I had made in the notebook. I didn't need Watari's help to figure out the rest.

"Right below the nose is the mouth. Mouth, lips and tongue are all represented by number 8!"

"Right!" Watari enthused as I marked number 8 as the mouth. I could tell he was really enjoying himself. Having a great time! It was a damn sight improvement to how melancholy he had been down in the basement, so I didn't bother scolding him for his enthusiastic behavior. "And your cheeks are actually on either side of your mouth, not under your eyes. They're technically the cheekbones. So the cheeks are numbers 7 and 9."

I marked those down as well. By now we had the face well and truly covered.

"Okay." I said, holding the notepad out for Watari's inspection. "Does this all seem right to you?"

He shone the light down onto the page and took a closer look at my scribbling.

1 and 3 Eyes

5 Nose

8 Lips

7 and 9 Cheeks

4 and 6 Ears

"So now we have numbers to ascribe to the facial features mentioned in the poem." Watari established, handing the journal back to me. "I just hope we're right the first time, because the idea that we have to go to any more effort to get out of here… well… let's just say it's tantrum inspiring!"

I nodded. "Agreed. Guess we break down the stanza's now, huh?"

Watari slapped my back merrily. "Hey, don't get too depressed about it, good buddy! We're only talking about Muraki rearranging your pretty little face." He chuffed far too merrily. "Though I don't think it needs to be mentioned that _my _boyfriend hasn't written any disturbing poetry about _me_."

"Oh give it a few more days and I'm sure he'll have something scribbled out on the bathroom wall." I couldn't believe we'd actually regressed to arguing over who had the most normal lover. Like I needed to be reminded that Muraki had the moralistic values of Hannibal Lector. And judging by the poem, perhaps even the same tastes.

"All he needs is my face and a nice keyante…" I mumbled with a sigh. Watari cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Eh?"

"Never mind. Let's figure this thing out, eh?"

We set to work deciphering the poem. The first stanza, well that just told us that the keypad represented a face, so we could basically discard the rest of that. Though… a part of it worried me, I'll admit. The entire theme of the poem kept revisiting the theme of sin and retribution. Perhaps it made sense… our entire existences, be as they may, revolved around judgment, atonement and retribution. The fact that the poet referred to a capital form of punishment was what concerned me the most, however. 'Swinging by a rope by dawn…' as though judgment for the 'felons' was close at hand. I was frightened by those words. _I _was a sinner. The keypad was a representation of _my _face, which is why the poem was titled 'The face of the sinner'. Of that I had little doubt. The poem called for us to look into our hearts and confront what we had done. _That's _what it wanted us to see before we could enter.

The second stanza, I guess it submitted the idea that evil wears many masks, if one wants to reuse an old cliché. Again, not particularly useful in the discovery of the code. Dismissible. Disturbing. But dismissible.

The fourth part became more personable. It _did _seem to be about Muraki. His thoughts were for the most part continuously focused on me and had been for some time, if I could trust any of his words. His crimes were unforgivable, of that there is no doubt and since the moment he had first entered my world, he had attacked my already fragile mental state. 'Tearing my mind apart.' Yeah. It had to be Muraki. If we were to take the 'object of affection' in the poem as myself.

"Amethyst eyes," Watari read aloud, grinning over at me. "Sorry, mate. There ain't too many guys around with eyes like yours. If you don't include anything written by Mills and Boone that is…"

I was just starting to feel like I could figure the whole thing out. I still wasn't as psyched about it as Watari but as the process became more fluid; a strange sort of excitement did start to sweep through me.

"This line here, '_You are looking at me as I am looking at you.' _Clearly refers to the reader, us, looking down at the number pad. And the sign of no pain… no… physical imperfections." I blushed, feeling that this was perhaps a little too bold of me. It had only been a few hours prior that I had examined my body in the bathroom mirror and ascertained as much from my visual assessment. It certainly wasn't something I was proud of. "Only the scars on each wrist… from where I tried to kill myself."

Watari inclined his head a little but didn't say anything. He wasn't big on the pity thing, Watari, so he would rather say nothing at all, then risk saying the wrong thing.

"The next couple of stanza's just yap on about him thinking you're hot stuff and how bad it makes him feel to love you too much and so now he has to break your face." He gave a big fake sigh. "How romantic… he should sell the rights to Disney."

I leaned close, quickly scanning down through the next few lines. "Could the first number be 8?"

"From the finger pressed against the lips?" Watari asked, leaning additionally close and pulling his eyes mostly shut to focus the letters. I felt bad about his sorry eyesight. It must have been a real pain, especially in the dark.

"I was actually thinking about the kiss." I said, pointing to further down the poem. "Do you think the finger pressed to the lips would count?"

Watari nodded erratically. "Yeah. Definitely. It says '_press'. _What do you do to buttons? You _press _them. I think that refers to the number 8, which we decided was the mouth. So yes… 8 is the first number. And the second. From the kiss."

I jotted that down, wondering whether Muraki actually considered such dark thoughts whenever we shared a kiss. I'd always assumed that any internalizations he was having at a moment like that, was perverted if anything. Goes to show you should never just casually interpret another's motives. People are complex. They have layers. Like cake.

… I prefer cake to onions, all right?

I tapped the next stanza with the pencil nub. "When he… um… bites through the tongue… is that another 8?"

"I'm not sure…" Watari groaned, running his hand back across his forehead, fingers tangling in his upturned bangs. "Damn… it's too late for this… Why didn't I just climb in with Oriya when I had the chance?"

"I'm not sure but after the night I've had, I'm all for climbing in with him too."

Watari chuckled and ruffled my hair. "Sorry. It's back to Mad-Eye with _you_. Anyway, as for the code… let's see how we do for space. If we're still a number short than we can throw that 8 in there."

We continued to hack our way through the verses. The third number was 5, as it referred to the devouring, or at least the tasting, of the nose. I hoped we weren't expecting to enact the exact actions on the keypad but Watari assured me that we probably just needed to punch in the numbers.

The fourth number turned out to be a little more difficult. We skipped over it at first, then went back to it and stewed over the verse where 'Muraki' dragged his nails down 'my' cheek. Did this take into account the entire portion of the face from the cheekbone down to the cheek? We eventually decided that it referred to the cheek, which had been specifically mentioned. But what side of the face? Was it 9 or 7?

"Is Muraki left handed or right handed?" Watari asked, after we had stewed over the stanza for what felt like forever. I had to actually think hard to remember just which hand it was that he primarily used. You might laugh, but if someone doesn't actually tell you, you wouldn't even be expected to know if they are left or right handed.

"Muraki… he's right handed. I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if he'd used his left hand a lot." I thought back to the second time we had met, just after his bat minions had caused that little girl to collapse on the street. "When we first met we shook hands. He offered his right hand."

"Okay… so, to say he was holding onto the side of 'your' face, then we can probably safely assume that he scratched your left cheek. Which would be number 9."

I scribbled that down. With my right hand. "Hey, Watari? Are you right or left handed?"

He gave me a weird look. "Does it matter?"

"I'm… just curious." I said, not really sure why I had felt the need to ask that in the first place. But there was something there; something just beneath the surface that begged the answer to what might have otherwise been an irrelevant question. Like a splinter in my mind this feeling bothered me but I still wasn't able to fully extricate it.

He continued to stare at me with that same expression. "I'm ambidextrous."

I frowned at him, feeling my cheeks go slightly red. "I didn't ask for your sexual orientation. I asked whether you were right or left-handed! Not what you _did _with them!"

The strange look just went on and on. Then, he started to laugh. "Ambidextrous means I can use both my right and left hand. I usually write with my left and do everything else with my right."

Talk about feeling stupid. "Oops." I said, trying not to laugh at my own folly. Watari was happy to do it for me. "Oh shut up! Let's do the next number. You can make fun of me later!"

"Oh, I'll pencil it in." Watari said with a very cheerful smile. Sometimes I really couldn't understand that guy. Usually he was so energetic and carefree but when he was bummed out, man! His emotions were always on the extreme. But I suppose I'm not really one to talk, am I?

We returned our attention to the poem. "Okay… so now our dear psychotic friend has touched your lips, munched on your tongue, bitten off your nose and scratched your cheek open." He visibly shuddered. "Damn… talk about your extreme makeover."

"Poor figurative me." I mused. "I think my ears went next. Though he had a hard time deciding whether to do them or my eyes first."

The poem all but threw the next two numbers at me. First the left ear – number 6. And then the right – number 4.

"Notice a pattern?" Watari said, as I marked these two numbers down. There were so many patterns in this garble that I didn't even know which one to point out.

"What do _you _see?" I asked, hoping for a different interpretation. Watari didn't disappoint.

"The rearrangement of your face has become more than just a mindless act of destruction. Muraki is effectively destroying all of your senses, leaving you in darkness." He pointed out the numbers on the keypad, using that to represent the face. "See? First the sense of taste and speech. Then the sense of smell. Now your ears, so you cannot hear. And last your eyes… both at the same time." He paused to consider that. "The last two numbers are 3 and 1, then. But they have to be pressed at the same time, just like Muraki takes out your eyes in the poem. Simultaneously."

"We're not positive that this _was _written by Muraki." I said, feeling just a little annoyed and yes I'll admit, a little defensive. Oh, don't look so smug, Muraki. "This could just be someone's twisted interpretation of him."

"Like Muraki isn't disturbing enough on his own." Watari held up a hand, warding me off. "Okay, okay, I'll back off. Let's just tap this code in and hope we got it right in the one go."

I handed Watari the journal, making sure he could see my seething expression in the light from the key chain. He chose to ignore me and quickly punched in the code: 8, 8, 5, 9, 6, 4 and then 3 and 1 at the same time. It was strange to think of him re-enacting some appalling tapestry on something that was supposed to represent my face. Thankfully, once the final two numbers had been depressed, a deep metallic click echoed from the door lock and I forgot about whatever psychological babble had been coursing through my brain, returning to the happy familiar blankness I was so accustomed to.

Watari rattled the door handle and we both breathed a big sigh of relief, as it swung inward.

"Ha! Nice try, you bastards. But not good enough." Watari laughed brazenly, pushing both doors all the way open. I was relieved and grateful to have gotten past the puzzle but another part of me was openly confused by the complexity of it all.

"What was the point…?" I murmured, tucking the calico journal away and stepping forward to join Watari at the doorway. "Why would anyone want to construct such an obscure puzzle just to open a door?"

Watari shrugged, meaning to imply that he had no unique interpretation but then went on to offer it anyway. "Why? Because someone is messing with us. Because power becomes boring after a while and sooner or later those that sit on it regress back to playing childish secret agent games. It must be exciting or something for them. That's what I think. Sometimes, people just like to play with the minds of others. Why? Because they can and because no one stops them."

His face was carefully neutral but I judged from the tone of his voice that as much as he had enjoyed working through the puzzle, it shouldn't have implied that he was in any way impressed by it. To him, I suppose, it represented an abuse of intelligence. To orchestrate power with deliberately callous intentions towards those that would have struggled, frantic to overcome these caustic roadblocks.

The world was full of people like that. I'd been witness to the cruel nature of humans and demons alike. Yet, those words had still surprised me. I couldn't even imagine Muraki doing something like that. It seemed so… fitfully childish. Children grew up. They grew out of playing secret games, invisible ink and obscure code words. It looked great in movies with 007 playing the part of the sophisticated secret agent with all his wacky gizmo's, flash cars and finely pressed suits but real life wasn't anything so dramatic. People longed for a maturity, which came part in parcel with leaving fantasy and illusion behind. We all knew very well that a rabbit doesn't magically appear beneath a hat; it is lifted into position by a mechanism beneath the stage curtain.

This poem was childish maliciousness. And it frightened me. The idea of dealing with a power that could amuse itself so easily just by watching us squirm… the mind of a child with the power of God at its' fingertips should be more frightening than the Devil himself.

And so, I was done with it all. I was eager to wrap all this up and step through the door, praying that it would lead to my awakening on the bathroom floor with only Muraki to concern myself with. Better the evil you know, as the saying goes.

We stepped through the doorway, side by side, feet perfectly in synch. It might have looked funny in any other situation but I was a little weary of humor right then. I was disappointed to find that the doorway did not lead to my miraculous awakening but instead opened up into another long passageway, descending downward almost dramatically. It was lit, for which I was grateful. Naked overhead bulbs flickered along the roof, illuminating the passage for as far as I could see. It was certainly no longer connected to my 'supposed' hospital fabrication. The walls and floor were a sort of sickly green, the kind of color that makes you inadvertently think of the dentist.

We started down it, leaning back on our center of gravity to keep from tilting over and rolling all the way to the bottom. After a couple of steps I felt something grab my hand and nearly threw myself forward in shock before I realized that it was only Watari. I reflexively battered his fingers away, not feeling particularly touchy feely right at that moment.

"Tsuzuki, I need to hold your hand." He insisted, no longer continuing forward and just standing on the spot, giving me a rather dirty look. I shook my head at him.

"Forget it. I gave you my jacket and my boxers but there's no way I'm holding hands with you." It was a different matter if we had been drinking or for whatever reason were in a particularly good mood but any other time – _no way. _Full-grown men, even if they were gay or bisexual, didn't have to go around holding hands just because they were scared. Today's generation, I tell you! Nothing but a big society of huggers and hand holders and arm linkers – it just wasn't right!

Watari's eyebrows came down even further. I couldn't remember the last time that he and I had been in such a bad mood with each other. I could tell I was annoying the shit out of him and vice versa! Ordinarily, it would have meant more to me, this shift in our relationship but the longer we stayed in that alternate plane, the more negative an influence it seemed to have on our personality. And even with this in consideration, I just didn't particularly care enough to do anything about it.

"Tsuzuki, I can barely see ten feet in front of me! My vision is worse than ever!" He swayed a little and clutched at the aggressive brandings across his arm. "Not to mention _this!_ It just keeps throbbing and burning! I could lose my balance if the distraction becomes too great."

"Couldn't you just hold my arm or something?" I whined. He sighed very slowly and I could tell he was trying desperately not to spit chips at me.

"I'll level with you… I need to keep my balance but I'm also… a little afraid."

I groaned, just so he would know what a big pain he was and grabbed his hand, tucking it through my arm and holding it with both of my own.

"We'll go down slowly. There's nothing to be afraid of, Watari. This is a cakewalk compared to what my day job is usually like."

"Yeah, well that's easy for you to say." Watari grumbled as we slowly continued our descent. I wondered if it was just my imagination, or if the lights were indeed starting to grow dimmer the further down we went. "You're a field op. Me? I just quietly sit behind my computer minding my own business. This is all just a little new to me, y'know?"

I started to say something in response when a keening wail broke out through the darkness directly below us. It was just on the edge of my audial range but I thought I could recognize what it was. The sound of a baby crying. Just one piercing scream to express agitation or even fear… you should never hope to hear an infant make that sound. It stirs something deep within your soul, the defensive part of yourself and you just want to run toward that child and rescue them. All adults must feel that impulse at some level, whether they're a parent or not.

Watari and I froze where we stood and exchanged a look. I gathered he'd had the same fleeting inclination that I had entertained only moments before. But Watari's was stronger. I could actually feel him surging against my grip on his arm.

"A child? In this place?" He wondered aloud. I shook my head.

"It's a trap. Gotta be. Whatever's in charge here is luring us like a siren."

"But there's only one way to go and that's straight ahead… where the cry came from." Watari adjusted his glasses out of habit and then tucked back some stray hair that had fallen free from the curve of his ear. "Playing more games, huh?"

Against our better judgment we continued on. It wasn't as though we had many alternatives at that stage. The hallway eventually terminated and we both groaned simultaneously at what we were confronted with at the very end.

Another door. Only this one was wooden and there was no keypad lodged into the wall beside it. I tried not to get my hopes up, telling myself that we would need to go hunting for a key, or that the door would open up revealing a blank wall beyond with no way out – I went through a million options of how this could all go majestically wrong for us. But when I reached out to turn the handle, it went along uninhibited. I could have wept with joy. As long as I didn't stint too deeply on the aforementioned babies scream, that is.

"Thank God…" I stated, turning on Watari with one of the few genuine smiles I'd had since we'd entered this nightmare world. "If this had turned out to be another damn puzzle, I would have been more than just a little pissed. How about you?"

Watari was staring at the left hand wall and didn't seem to hear me. I reached out and shook his shoulder, not exactly gently either.

"Hey… you alright, man?"

He looked over at me, shocked, as though I'd woken him from a light slumber. He gestured to the space of wall he'd been so preoccupied with.

"Look at this."

I leaned forward to see around him and was face to face with more red scripture.

"Katakana and Kanji this time…" I said, curling my lip at the distinctively untidy Japanese characters. "Talk about messy…"

Watari bit his lip, trailing his fingers down from line to line, reading and then from the looks of it, reading it through again. I couldn't see why it demanded his attention such as it did. Then I too read the words:

Before you go, let me bend your ear

For you dear Yutaka, this story's quite near

Consider these words, do they make any sense?

Solve my riddle, before the tale is spent.

"_Where would you go,"_

"Where would you go," 

What is the answer you wanted to know?

'Where would you go'; what does it mean?

Why would the master, destroy his own Queens?

So, think about this, now you should understand

Where did you go, when you were touched by that man?

Where did you go?

When you had been plundered?

To the depths of the earth

Where the dead are interred?

Solve my riddle, to stay my hand

The answer is simple, the story is sad

Where did you go, once the man had his way?

There's only one place, where sin's washed away

"Playing your mind games again, are you?" I snarled, yanking Watari and his traumatized features away from the wall. "Well we're not getting caught up in that nonsense again, you childish bastard! Let's move it, Watari."

I pulled him along behind me without further protest and pushed open the door before I could lose my nerve. I took a step inside and just as soon came tumbling back from the doorway, hand clasped over my face, swallowing down a meaty gag reflex. The room smelt like death. As though hundreds of bodies had been sealed inside for weeks on end, with all the heaters turned on at full force. My first thought was 'offal pit'. The stench of decomposition. It was without a doubt the worst smell I had ever stumbled across. It made me long for the nose biting mentioned in our gory limerick upstairs.

Watari stumbled back from the open doorway, gasping into his hand and then turning away with violent retching noises. He didn't actually vomit but from the sounds of it came pretty damned close.

"That's… putrid!" He finally said, turning back towards me with a great deal of effort. "I've smelt my fair share of bad smells but that is possibly the very _worst_. We can't go in there!"

I almost agreed with him. The room smelt so bad… I felt for sure that if I stepped inside I would pass out within minutes. Then again, maybe that was a good thing. Falling asleep in this world may just have been my ticket back to reality.

Watari seemed to realize in just what direction my mind was leaning and he shook his head wildly at me.

"Oh, no, no, no, no… You can't possibly be thinking about going in there?!"

"Well, where else are we supposed to go?" I reasoned, having thus committed myself. "There's no way I'm turning back after all the trouble we went to just getting through that door."

Watari grumbled disgustedly but I could see he knew I was right. "Well, let's at least cover our faces." He said, reaching down and tearing off the hem of his paper dress. He ripped it in two and held out one piece to me. "Put that over your nose and mouth and breathe through it. It might be the only way we'll get there without passing out."

I accepted the strip of fabric and pressed it over the lower half of my face. It insulated my sense of smell to a degree but the foul odor still lingered. The makeshift facemask made it just tolerable.

I gestured with my head toward the door and Watari reluctantly stepped forward. We entered the room, side by side. This time, I didn't mind holding hands. I steeled myself for the certainty that we were about to be confronted with something unspeakable. The internalizations were nothing however, whence compared to the stark reality of what awaited us within that room.

We had not moved three feet into the gloom beyond, when the door slammed shut, sealing us in impenetrable darkness. The nauseating smell grew stronger. It overpowered my senses. I coughed into the material, wincing as Watari's hand tightened and shook convulsively in my grip. I stumbled backwards and felt something wet and solid strike the back of my shirt. It made a 'squish' sound, like uncooked meat.

"Watari… there's something in here!" I pulled away from whatever it was I had hit. I could feel the residual juices running down the inside of my shirt.

"Yeah, my hand just landed on something…" Watari was trying to sound composed but his voice trembled badly. "It… it felt like…"

We both knew what it felt like but we didn't want to say it. I scrambled for the key chain light and held it up in my shaking hand. Before I had the chance to flip it on however, a great flash of light suddenly blasted down from above our heads. We looked up simultaneously at the high ceiling. From what I gathered, we were in some kind of warehouse. There were eight lights total. I counted them as they flashed on, one by one, the last bulb flickering from faulty service connection. I guess it was easier to focus on this then it was to comprehend what was down at our level.

'_Corpses!' _My mind screamed, though a small gurgling hiccup was the only sound my body was able to produce. _'They're corpses!'_

Decomposing human bodies were hanging from the rafters like ties on a rack. Rusted chains had been wrapped around their ankles, the fingers of their lank arms brushing the floor. The most disturbing aspect however was that each individual corpse had been partially skinned from the feet down to their waists. The loose, still clammy skin hung down from the hips of each victim like some obscene skirt. The front of their bodies had been cut open, exposing gaping red organs, intestines trailing down over their naked bloodied chests, eyes milky white in putrefaction. The closet one was barely two feet from my face. It slowly circled beneath the violently harsh white lights, mouth gaping hideously at me from its slimy, glazed face. Part of the jaw had been ripped away. The unnaturally white teeth protruded out from glaringly pink gums.

These bodies… they had been hung up like cow carcasses in a slaughterhouse. There was no blood on the floor. The corpses were being bled into buckets that resided beneath their languidly swaying bodies. The buckets were near overflowing. Chunks of flesh and human hair were floating in the closest container. No wonder it stunk so bad.

Watari and I stood back to back, pulling as close to one another as we were able. The idea that I had run into one of these things in the dark made my mind want to turn over on itself. I could feel a strange swelling pressure creeping up through my chest and realized I was being overcome by the burgeoning urge to giggle. Great. Hysteria. I forced the laughter down, knowing that if I started giggling I would never be able to stop. I'd end up an insane twitching wretch, curled up in the corner, rocking back and forth and drawing on the floor with my own saliva.

"Tsuzuki… stay calm. We can get through this." Watari's voice slightly muffled through the fabric over his mouth. I felt his hand tighten on mine. "It's awful, I know. But they're just bodies… just empty human vessels."

I shut my eyes tight, conjuring up an image of all the corpses disappearing. I focused on that scene with all my might, thinking back to Watari's words upstairs. We had a certain amount of control. I would make these atrocities go away, even if it took a burst blood vessel to do it.

"Let's just… push through. I'll go first. As long as we stick together… it'll be okay."

I opened my eyes, slowly, regretfully. The bodies were still there, still as gruesome as ever. A frustrated moan burst out my throat.

"Watari, look at what's been done to them!" My eyes were starting to brim with tears and at first I thought my empathy for these nameless victims was getting the best of me but then I realized that the smell was making my eyes water. "I don't think I can take much more of this… "

Watari turned around and gently pulled me around to face him. His face was as pale and frightened as I'm sure mine was. His blond hair was stained with blood from where he had come into contact with one of the bodies. With his free hand, since wiped clean on the hospital gown, he covered my eyes, forcing them closed. Then he pulled me in tight against his back, holding me around the waist.

"I'm more used to seeing bodies in this state than you. Just keep close."

I was wrapped in darkness. Coveted. But still I couldn't keep my body from shaking, couldn't push away those images from my mind. I could only trust that Watari would guide me faithfully through the remaining maze of carcasses. The corpses had been positioned so closely together that I couldn't see how we could possibly make it through without coming into contact with them. Before I had time to stint on this too deeply, Watari gently tugged on my hand, instigating our progression into the depths of the corpse forest. I followed along in his wake, pressing myself as close to his body as possible. I knew I was being a coward about this but confirming it was no more persuasive an argument than any other contention I could level against myself. My chest pounded from lack of sufficient oxygen, a sharp pain splintering through my heart with each slow, paranoid step forward. My body and soul were physically damaged by the images I had witnessed. It felt as though the very air sucked out a piece of my strength, with each 'breath' I took. But was this my real body that was being affected? I didn't see how it could possibly be. _'To be,' _to exist, versus the non-existence. Was I here, or had my consciousness been somehow separated from my body? Had Ruka stretched out her hands through that mirror and virtually yanked my soul free from the constraints of my physical self? And if I were to accept this inexplicable truth, then how was I intended to ascertain the repercussions that this alternate reality was having on 'me'? If my soul had taken on some physical representation in that 'other place', than any injury, every attack frayed my conscious self, the most delicate and vulnerable part of me. The thought was frightening. This unsubstantiated idea, be it real or imagined, that my spirit might be in actual jeopardy, terrified me as evenly as the presence of these ghastly atrocities, that grazed the sides of my body as Watari attempted to maneuver between them.

And so proceeded our cautious advance; Watari in the lead and I suctioned tightly to his side in the manner of an overly adoring leech. It was unavoidable, the occasional brushes of contact we made with the dead but it was maddening nonetheless. You can't possibly imagine the disgusting feeling of colliding with wet, exposed human tissue, unless it happens to you. But Watari did the best job he was able and I admired him all the more for his ability to cope with this disturbing situation. We had been moving forward for what I estimated had been a little over five minutes when Watari suddenly ground to a halt, causing me to step on the back of his foot. He didn't even voice a complaint, so I knew immediately that something was wrong.

"Watari…?" I asked warily, grasping about with my free hand until I was able to find the back of his jacket. I gave it a tight squeeze between my fingers. "What's going on?"

Watari failed to reply and the silence dragged on to the degree that it became more frightening to me than the bodies that may or may not have still surrounded me. I finally plucked up the courage and opened my eyes, no longer able to tolerate the uncertainty.

We had emerged out from the forest of corpses and entered an open area at the far side of the room. The corpses no longer obstructed my view of the surrounding area and I could now see that the right and left hand walls terminated at least three feet above the floor. The area beneath was veiled in complete darkness, obscuring whatever might have been lurking beneath. My imagination threw up a number of certifiable possibilities but even these unseen, unsubstantiated horrors could only hold my attention for so long. An even more alarming sight drew my eyes toward the front of the room. A shrine had been built into the wall. Candles and incense were burning, though I could smell nothing over the intense stench of the dead. A great circular opening had been cut into the floor before the altar, explaining the purpose of the full out bloodletting of the corpses. The blood was used to fill the pool. There didn't appear to be anything in it at the moment.

Above the altar a white ragged square of cloth hung all the way from the ceiling to the floor. A giant circular sigil had been painted on it, in what I assumed, from the current grisly theme, was blood. It looked very similar to the contract that Saagatanusu had written into Otanashi's cornea.

Someone was perched on the altar, legs crossed, head inclined slightly toward the thick novel they held in one hand. Without so much as glancing up, the figure gestured out toward us, indicating the macabre jungle from which we had just emerged.

"Breathtaking, is it not?" The voice was soft, feminine and more than slightly familiar. "Gentleman… you have entered the Room of Corollary. It is a gift to my most loyal servant… Eurynomous _adores_ the taste of the festering."

The figure closed the book and set it down on the altar top, his eyes finally lifting from their downward trajectory. He tilted his body forwards and the light from above drenched his face in a ghostly white illumination, throwing dark shadows beneath his accentuated cheekbones. There was no mistaking those wide blue eyes, framed by delicate light brown lashes and punctured by the smallest pupil in the very center. The messy head of dirty blond hair. And the clothing… almost ridiculously large hiking boots, tiny denim shorts and a white shirt, left unbuttoned and sanctioned around the upper torso in a hastily tied knot…

All drenched in blood.

The white shirt, never to be clean again… the face stained on the left hand side. But no visible wounds. No bandages, nothing to suggest that any of the blood on his body had been his to begin with. But I had seen the proof of this… well, not so much seen but had been witness to it nonetheless. The attack upon him had been unforgivably brutal and though I had held out hope over the passing week, it seemed more reasonable to accept that death had visited the boy.

This unexpected development caused my very breath to knot in my throat. I lowered my hand, allowing the slip of material to fall free and float down towards the floor. I didn't bother to retrieve it, no longer concerned by the vapid smell of the deceased. That had become almost dim in comparison to this new development.

The last time I had seen that face it had been staring out at me through the closing gap of the cinema doors.

"Pandora?" I asked, scarcely allowing myself to feel any hope. The boy tilted his head to the side, expression amused but not warm.

"Yes… and no." He said, without further explanation. Watari pressed forward, also discarding the makeshift mask so that his voice would carry clearly.

"That voice…" He murmured, his eyebrows furrowing in deep consideration. "You're the one that spoke through my mind in the alleyway, weren't you?"

The boy twisted his face in order to direct his attention toward Watari but his eyes failed to match the movement. His impenetrable gaze was locked on me and I squirmed uncomfortably beneath that stare, as though simple eye contact were sufficient permission for him to invade my thoughts and read my every secret like a book. It's hard to explain the feeling that came upon me when that creature looked me in the eyes; as though I were utterly exposed to him, and whatever powers I possessed were laughable whence compared to this gargantuan presence before me.

There's no word to describe that sensation. It's a fear… but a fear that's beyond rational hope. You looked at this creature before you and realized that it was futile to fear for your life because that was not what was in danger. The perpetual gnawing pain that grew in your heart came from the instinctive, unfathomable knowing that your very mind and _soul _were threatened. And there are no words that come close to describing it.

He spoke to Watari and I somehow got the impression that the boy creature was somehow… satisfied. There was a smarmy quality to his voice that did not match his expression. The face was utterly inscrutable, which pained me when I thought back to how positively expressive Pandora had been.

"Why yes, I did so happen to witness your ironically appropriate plight, stupid Guardian." The creature drawled, raising a hand to indicate some dramatics were in order for his impending recital. "_Surely you haven't forgotten? The particular selective purpose of your body, those forty-two years ago? Does this not bring your mind back to those days? A memory, which aligned you ever more closely to that boy you dare think of as a brother. You know well what he suffered. That vice is yours to bear also."_ He laughed with genuine pleasure, leaning back on the altar and pulling one leg up to his chest, arms wrapped around his ankle. The posture was so typically childlike, that I was once again reminded of Pandora and his juvenile exuberance. "Ah… I do so enjoy seeing the guilty get what they deserve. Justice is the word that denotes the use of every and any means to which we might perpetuate a fitting retribution for those that are responsible for the harm of others." His evil smile found its mark on Watari, Watari who clasped a hand across his face; eyes wide and glaring as though he couldn't believe the audacity of what had just been leveled at him. I could scarcely believe it myself. This creature had all but accused Watari of being a sinner! I couldn't even _imagine _Watari doing something so evil that he would deserve the title! His cruelest characteristic was that he held no qualms about testing his potions out on anyone he fancied without so much as a warning before the administration of said concoction. Though it was severely annoying (and more often that not, quite embarrassing and inconvenient), it could hardly be labeled a sin. At least, not a serious sin. Not liked murdering someone.

I could feel the anger radiating through my features. Fear does that to you sometimes, makes you aggressive. Makes you want to fight. I took an antagonistic stance, my fists clenched so tightly that they literally shook from pressure. My nails tore into my palms but I ignored this small, insubstantial pain.

"You don't know anything about Watari, so shut your damn face!" I yelled, directing all the frustration and animosity I had previously felt towards someone deserving of it. Eloquent though it was not, I feel I got the point across. But what surprised me more than anything, was that Watari didn't back me up. He touched my arm gently and shook his head, eyes downcast and expression malign.

"Tsuzuki… I think he knows more about me than you realize."

I stepped away from him, confused more than anything. What the Hell was this?

Watari slowly looked up at the creature on the altar and his expression revealed that instinctive sliver of fear I had felt also. So it wasn't just me. But his face also told another story, a story I couldn't see, nor touch, nor understand. The concept of some darker side to Watari was as foreign to me as English.

His face was stricken but there was a bold sort of defensive aggression there too. "Am I not also a victim?" He held that strength in his voice when he spoke. "What was done to me was monstrous…"

The creatures face was unsympathetic."It is the fate of all victims to eventually become sinners. A mind is always stained by the bleeding of its wounds. And thus, these monstrous deeds create even more monstrous the victim."

He said this as though there we no arguing with it. It sounded all too much like the words Muraki had said to me, the countless of times as we had discussed morality versus the darker anatomical truth of our peculiar lineage. He too had said that I was stained and as such, impossible to further ruin.

The boy narrowed his eyes and this was enough to convert his expression to the degree that he became terrifying to behold. Watari and I actually stepped back as one, startled by this degree of… not so much hatred… but raw, unbridled passion for some cause we had little to no understanding of.

"The only true victims," He said. "Are those that have died for no purpose."

"That could apply to just about any Guardian of Death!" Watari countered, sounding more angry now than anything else. The creature was hitting all the right cords in him, producing a violent melody of retaliation. The creature, on whim it seemed, chose to simply ignore this accusation and he shifted the topic of conversation as though it had been particularly boring to begin with.

"I see you wear the mark of the _Shukusatsu_." He said, sounding more than just a little delighted by this development. "Then again, it shouldn't surprise me. My Apostles can always be trusted to deliver the righteous sword of justice both swift and accordingly."

It was all so confusing; I was finding it difficult to keep up. My previous question had gone unanswered so I brought it back to light for a second attempt at evaluation. "Who… and _what_ the Hell are you? Why are you speaking to us as though you're in the right to convict us?"

A sly, pleased smile stretched across the lower half of the boys face, as though his lips had split up along his cheeks. The air temperature seemed to decrease as the next few words spilled out of his mouth.

"I speak to you as the righteous to the convicted, because that is the true scenario." He said, sliding down off of the altar with all the sinuousness of a snake. He spoke these words as though a simpleton should have well understood the situation. "I am judge… jury… and _executor. _I am judgment personified. The deliverer of accordance, the righter of wrongs and the supreme punisher." He came to a stop only ten feet away and spread his arms wide, displaying himself to us. "My one true name… is Mitkiel. I am the Demon-God of Punishment."

_**- End Part Two-**_


	20. Tsuzuki: Be all my Sins Remember'd Pt: 3

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer: **It is not mine. Descendants of Darkness, that is. Dark Adaptation is mine. Even the psychological term is mine. I also own one dog, a Queen sized bed, one noisy rumbling laptop, a rather twitchy eyebrow and one glass of caffeine.

**Tsuzuki**

"Mitkiel!" Watari hissed and I heard the hatred in that word. "You _murdering bastard!_ You're supposed to be dead!"

"Gentle, sweet Yutaka." The boy soothed, waving a hand placidly. "Raise your voice and you never know what you might wake up in here." His face was slightly insidious in the awning of the shadows. "Some nightmares don't sleep so well if you know what I mean…"

Watari drew back from him, face ashen and mouth drawn down into an aggressive little drawl. Something Mitkiel had said, didn't sit with him too well. But this wasn't my concern at the moment. I was convinced that the person before me was Pandora. And the name _Mitkiel _hadn't gone unnoticed by me, either.

A week or so ago in the cinema, when Muraki and I had been attacked by the demon Balban, he had issued us the opening line; "_Mitkiel sends his best." _And Pandora had more than once referred to this demon as his 'master'. I was so concerned over the fate of this boy, practically unknown to me but who had been so sweet and innocent, I couldn't help this feeling of attachment.

"Mitkiel," I called stepping forward and lowering my hands to show that I meant no harm. The boyish features didn't even shift at my approach. "You sent the daemon Balban to intercept myself and Muraki, didn't you?"

Mitkiel inclined his head, only the smallest semblance of a nod.

"Indeed, I did. I told him to bring you to me, so that I might make you my mate." His lips curled up into that callous little smile again. "It was wicked, I know, to lie to my own servants about my true intentions. But a great many minor demons do not appreciate my taste for the more subtle approach to admonishing my prey."

"You've had dealings with this guy?!" Watari snapped, his expression positively livid. I wasn't sure if he was angry with me or Mitkiel, or both.

"Yeah, ever since Pandora turned up, his name is becoming disturbingly frequent." I said, looking back towards my blond haired friend. "You seem to know him too. What's going on, Watari?"

Watari snorted contemptuously out of his nose. He sounded like an ill-mannered horse. "The first time I was zapped into that figurative basement, Pandora mentioned that name. So I looked into it but nothing much has come of it. I can only rationalize from his presence here, that Mitkiel is the one accountable for the murders in Kokakuro!"

"How do you make that connection?" I mumbled, trying to keep our conversation discretely veiled from the small demon. Watari pointed with a not quite steady finger to the sigil scrawled on the huge veil above the altar. It meant nothing to me. I couldn't read demonic scripture.

"_That_," he began, "-is the marking drawn on the floor beneath the dead girls bodies. You don't have to be a fucking genius to thread the connection there."

Mitkiel mused thoughtfully, chin resting on his crooked index finger. "Ah… very good. You recognized the Sigil of Judgment. You realize of course that it pertains to my chosen servants? My Apostles… the Exactors of righteousness. Four parts each, one representation of those most loyal to me in the one symbol."

"What _I _wanna know," I said, butting in before Watari could continue this thread of conversation. It was probably arrogant but I felt what I had to say was more important then him clearing up his case study. At least… that's what I took it to be at that time. "Is why you've chosen to appear to us in that body. Your servant Balban killed Pandora right before my eyes! Do you mean to mock me with this cruel act?"

Mitkiel seemed confused, albeit momentarily. His clear, blue eyes lost their usual clarity and his eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to make heads and tails of what I had suggested. It was the most genuine show of expression I had seen thus far.

"Balban _killed _Pandora…?" He seemed to consider this and then suddenly burst out into a rather disturbing peal of laughter. It possessed none of the lighthearted exuberance that Pandora had expressed in such abundance. "My dear, stupid little Guardian! The dead know no second death! Balban merely mauled Pandora for dramatic value. He wanted to scare you that is all. And Pandora… why, he healed up in a mere matter of days. He is used to far worse. But as you can see-" He spread his arms again and spun in a slow circle, leaving no angle of his body open to discussion. "- there is no lasting damage."

It took a while for this to sink in. On the one hand, I was overcome with the realization that Pandora was alive! That he hadn't been killed by that infernal dust cloud. That he lived and his smile still existed. However, this alternative aspect of his existence forced me to confront the notion that perhaps death may have been ultimately preferable and I wasn't exactly sure I wanted to consider such a terrible thing. I didn't _want _to understand the reality of what I was facing. But Watari, upfront as ever, saved me the trouble of procrastinating over this for too long.

"You're using that boys' _body?_" He asked, clearly disturbed by the unspoken affirmation. Mitkiel offered a cold smile.

"My true form… is currently unsuited for outside conditions." He stated, lowering Pandora's body to the floor and seating it with one leg bent beneath the body. "There is only one place in which it possesses the strength to carry my soul without further deterioration and that place is not here. Nor is it in the true world or Hades, for that matter. When I desire to enter any of these places, I simply transfer my consciousness into Pandora or my second Host and effectively subdue their will beneath my own. Those that are connected to me, I can enter into at any time. It is a sort of intimacy that you creatures of the flesh could not possibly come to fathom, limited as your physical pleasures are."

"Demonic possession." Watari hissed through gritted teeth. "Is there no limit to your depravity?"

Mitkiel looked up at him very slowly. The expression the demon constantly wore was of tireless patience but I had the distinct feeling that he was perhaps feeling just a little aggravated by Watari's attitude. Some tiny, indistinct change that slid across its face, was evidence to this. The barest alteration of emotion.

"Dear Guardian," He said, his voice revealing nothing. "Since we are in such a civilized setting, with time on our side and air in our lungs, I request that you might be so kind as to indulge me in a small story. I assure you, it will not take long. And think of it this way; I cannot end your insolent lives if I hope for you hear my words and understand just why this has all come to be."

His voice had become more and more cheerful as he spoke, ironic, considering that the words issued from his lips only continued further into darkness.

"To punish mankind, Zeus bade that Hephaestus the forger, create a virgin of captivating beauty equal to or greater than that of the Olympian goddesses. He requested that all the gods bring this creature their especial gifts so that it would be loved by all and the betrayal would hence be greater. The virgin was named Pandora; the all-gifted.

That is the legend. And legend as we know, is word of mouth, plus time. And the story is not always true, but then again, that is the reasonable sentimentality of it all, correct? So long as we are entertained by these words of whimsy, we can perhaps be remiss to the reality of such stories and legends. It becomes of lesser to little importance and that there is the sin perhaps of a great many nations, too countless, too many in number to sufficiently punish.

Of course, we demons are not exempt from the rule. The story of Pandora is true; do not doubt that, dear Guardians. I cannot attest to the reality of the Greek gods but it was from that ancient fable that the instigator of our species was inspired to replicate such innocence, so that we might bathe in it, when we are otherwise surrounded by nothing but sin and the darkness, that is as much a part of we are, as it is of us. When you are locked in darkness, it is only natural to seek out light. And thus, the task of creating innocence began. It was Lucifer himself and all the highest-ranking demons who undertook this immense and seemingly impossible task. The original legend became gospel to us and we abided to it as disciples unto a God that had long before been lost to us.

Pandora – is the name that expresses the victim. Someone who is innocent but becomes the hand that punishes the masses. The original Pandora, all-gifted and beautiful, innocent and unassuming, released the heresies into the world and made it possible for mankind to sin. It is no chance occurrence that the face you see before you is so familiar and worn by so many others. The first few 'lives' we created, our failed homunculus' you might say, were crafted a face, _the _face and body of that which appeals the most to us. Because of its' beauty, its' innocence and its vulnerability most importantly. It is a face that we demons find utterly irresistible. A being of utter perfection. By our standards at least. You must surely understand that as such powerful creatures, we find vulnerability and innocence to be _very _attractive.

Our first few attempts to replicate this unrivalled innocence spoken of in the Greek fable ended in failure. It soon became clear to us that to obtain what we sought, we must look to the intermediate land of the living in order to find it. Life cannot be made artificially… even with all our magic and all our power, we were unable to forge a true 'soul'. However, we were able to salvage the genes from our previous attempts and released them into the world of the living. At first, we saw nothing. Nothing to suggest that our hopes for the creation of this perfect innocence could ever be achieved. Hope seemed lost. With nothing left to consider, the practice of acquiring 'Pets' was approved. When a human being died and their soul was on their way to the next world, we demons had the ability to interfere with their transmission, as it were. We could provide them with a choice. If they desired an extension of their lifespan, we would grant it. We would grant them eternal life but in return, their bodies and souls were eternally ours. To do with as we wished. It became an art, an accessory. The higher the beauty and status of the pet, the more higher revered the demon. It's a wonderful commodity and more beautiful and obedient pets could not be found.

At least, that's what I thought. Until that day, 16 years ago when I saw the boy for the very first time.

The gene that had been lost over centuries beforehand had resurfaced in this unspectacular boy! There was no mistaking it. He bore the face, the face of the victim. The face that invites the marauder! I could scarcely believe my luck. Once I had seen the Victim, I knew without question that I must acquire him, before others of my race came to learn of his existence. But Pet acquisition is not a simple process. You cannot simply 'take' a human from the world of the living. They must be struck from life, so that their souls are confused and conflicted in passing. It is the only sure way to invade the transmission process. Puzzled souls are always the easiest to corrupt.

Pets must also be the perfect age. Technically, we demons prefer younger pets. Youth represents morality and innocence, vulnerability and immaturity. The age in which sexuality is starting to be explored but most definitely not past the loss of virginity. It is simply ridiculous to make a pet out of a human who has already sacrificed their ripeness to another. Virginity is something that a demon alone claims and that entitles ownership, a bond that cannot be broken. As such, I had no choice but to wait until the boy was a suitable age. However, the process of disabling his mental state began much earlier than this. First, I arranged for the death of his mother as the result of a tragic accident to which he was witness. He suffered a minor head wound but his mentality was far more damaged by being witness to her slow and agonizing depletion in the hospital bed, where she lay rigid, unable to move, dying a slow, painful death. I hadn't counted on the stepfather to enter into the picture however. That was troublesome. But I soon got him out of the way. His mind was embarrassingly easy to mess with. It was already fairly messed up to begin with. The boy was then left with nowhere to go. The poor boy was all alone… until he was adopted, for lack of a better term. He was nearing the age for 'plucking' as we put it. Yes… he was becoming ever so ripe on the vine. And so, I entered into his troubled mind and moved into the house with him. I slowly poisoned that family, already so rotten to begin with. The boy tried many selfless acts to save those around him but it was all for naught. One by one, they all fell from grace. Such was my grand fortune at this time that I managed to secure myself an additional host. A vessel, if you will, one that I can use at any given time it strikes my fancy. The boy was still my main priority and I was growing increasingly impatient. Eventually, I saw no other alternative than to poison the mind of the remaining family. The Victim was destroyed. He passed through the darkness and that was when my voice fell upon him. I told him that I would spare his life, in exchange for his soul. The poor boy was all alone and frightened… so very frightened. He didn't want to die. And so he gave himself to me… and I re-animated his body, permanently suspended it in time and wiped his name from existence. From that day on, he was Pandora; the all-gifted. I bound a chain about his neck- a chain that I can pass along to enter him at any time, a chain to draw him to me and keep him my own. Innocence belongs to _me._"

Mitkiel's voice gradually slowed to a mere whisper and his far distant eyes shifted back to accommodate reality. I couldn't resist the urge to shudder when he smiled at me again.

"So now you understand, you dear simple creatures. Now you know why it is my right to inhabit this body whenever it suits me." He said, with that same impassive disinterest I found more disturbing then his rare, abrupt displays of emotion. "The boy was scared and he acted purely out of selfishness. He wanted to live, at whatever the cost. Well… this is the price one pays for indulgence. By existing in your world, Pandora's innocence was very nearly corrupted. It has taken me certifiable years to break him in… to wean those destructive impulses from his mind. But he surrendered in the end. A humans mind is delicate. It can only take so much depravity and suffering before it collapses. Now… Pandora is perfect. Simple, naïve and innocent. Regardless-" Mitkiel drew back the boys upper lip, exposing his teeth in something of a predatory smile. "- of the countless times I have fucked him. And beaten him. And tortured him."

The demon stared directly into our eyes, daring us to react to these blatantly arousing words. I could see Watari's lips pressed together tightly, a sure sign that he was as incited by Mitkiel's uncaring manner as I was.

I decided to speak, not at all caring whether or not it was the right time to voice my opinion. "If this kid means so much to you… how could you treat him that way?"

Mitkiel laughed broadly, making it very clear to me that I was being mocked for my apparent stupidity.

"Ah… dear Guardian… how adorably dim-witted you are!! My entire existence revolves around the punishment of the sinners and as such, I cannot allow myself to act in a remotely sinful fashion, regardless of how great or small the action may be! I am more in need of a pet than any other demon I know. No other demon needs an outlet to supplement his outrageous urges such as I do. At no other time might I act in a way that contradicts my nature. But since Pandora is mere property to me, these actions are fine, so long as they are directed at him and no other. This boy-" He slapped the flat of his hand against Pandora's chest significantly. "- is my revenue for frustration."

Mitkiel climbed back to his feet, wobbling uncertainly on Pandora's long legs. He was clearly a little unfamiliar with the specifics of movement in the boys' body; as though the entirety of the demons consciousness had been precariously perched on stilts. He did not move with a great deal of confidence and appeared to be off balance, even just standing still. I tried to catch Watari's eye, to see if he had noticed this. He continued to face forward, never for a second diverting his eyes from Mitkiel's. A sharp movement from below the line of Watari's hip caught my attention and I slowly trailed my eyes down to focus on it. One of the scientists' fingers was flicking insistently to a vague direction on Mitkiel's right. I dragged my eyes over to follow this invisible line and saw at the end if it an unremarkable wooden door, situated in an alcove just beyond the altar. Trying to make it appear unrelated, I reached out and gently squeezed Watari's fingers, hoping to convey to him that I had seen the door. And knew what we had to do.

"But you needn't concern yourself over Pandora." Mitkiel was saying, shifting his hips from side to side. He definitely didn't seem comfortable, like his upper torso was going to tilt forward over his waist at any moment. "Soon, your minds shall be so entrenched in shame that you will be unable to draw breathe without hating yourself."

"You don't have the power to do that." I sneered, doubting the words even as I spoke them. Mitkiel didn't laugh but his eyes found mine and he glared without contempt but with an expression that was somehow more frightening than blind derision and mockery. He looked at me with utter verification, as though there were no doubt that I was deserving of whatever was in store for me.

"_I _am more than one hundred times the demon that Saagatanusu was, Tsuzuki." He said, his voice a low, threatening susurration. I visibly twitched at that name. "Ah… I see the scars from that encounter do not fade easily, do they, Guardian? Yes… Saagatanusu was a powerful devil but _I _am a God of the Underdwellers. Demons like Saagatanusu serve my sub-lieutenants. And if he was able to entrap you in an alternate world where you were endlessly tormented by the images of your past sins, then do not doubt what it is that _I _am capable of, in the full extremeties of my wrath."

Mitkiel raised his arms towards the ceiling, palms facing skyward. As he did this a strange sound from behind us caused me to turn around against my better judgment. The forest of corpses were convulsing in their chains, as though someone had plugged a stun gun into the gaping wounds of their chests. I could see the one closest to me, opening and closing its mouth, eyes rolling in its head. A garish gray tongue thrashed across its rotten lips, saliva that should no longer have been produced, splattering down the upper portion of its face. I don't know whether I imagined it or not, but I could swear those eviscerated dead were screaming out to us.

"_Spare us… spare us… spare our souls… spare our souls to Hell..."_

"I suffer the sinners." The sweet voice of Pandora's boomed out at the mercy of Mitkiel's indecipherable will. I forced my eyes away from the grizzly serenade of the corpses and turned back to the grotesquely calm face of the conductor. The corner of his lip hiked up slightly, exposing immaculately white teeth. "So that sinners pray for the mercy of Hell. For centuries now I have taken it upon myself to punish the greatest sinners in this world. But now… now I have been called upon, to use my powers to touch those that for centuries have remained untouched. I have been entrusted this great honor. I may freely exercise my right to punish those who have been exempted from justice."

"No one escapes judgment." Watari said, shrugging my jacket from his shoulders. It slid down his arms and rested in the crook of his elbows, just hanging there. I assumed he was attempting to lighten his body and make it more aerodynamically sound, in the event that we would be making a mad dash for the door. "All human souls are judged in the Ministry of Hades."

"And now it is time that Judgment returned in full to _me_." Mitkiel said, an expression of almost hysterical glee ripping across his face. "Humans have no right to judge the folly of fellow humans. I believe there is something of a conflicted interest in this clause. It is my task to punish all those that have sinned. None escape judgment. You have sinned. Sins that you can only hope to atone for once you have been cleansed by the hand of justice. I, Mitkiel, the demon-god of punishment, have been chosen by the highest orders of both Heaven and Hell to judge those that have until now hidden from judgment in the Ministry of Hades. Now is the time for the Guardian's to be judged!"

"We have been judged" Watari said loudly, trying to distract Mitkiel. He was now holding the jacket over one arm, as though he had suddenly gotten too hot and needed to cool himself off. "By Enma-Daioh."

Mitkiel hissed and reeled back as though he had been burnt. His face twisted into an ugly countenance of its' once former cuteness.

"Enma!" He spoke the word as though it were the most offensive sound imaginable. "Lord of Hades… he who is ignorant to the point of devastation!"

"How so?!" I snapped defensively. Enma had often gone out of his way to come through for me in the most disastrous of circumstances. The Boss told me that it was Enma who had ultimately driven Saagatanusu from my body, when he had possessed me the prior year. He had taken me in and offered me a chance to redeem myself, even after everything I had done. Enma never pointed the finger of blame at anyone. He was a fair and just superior, such as I was undeserving of.

Mitkiel gave me a condescending look. "Enma lies to you. Comforts you by offering hope that he has no intention of giving. You Guardians of Death are the worst sinners of all. You sin and are given a second chance to escape punishment and this existence is focused on the judgment and condemnation of others. Does that seem fair to you?"

"Well of course it doesn't when you put it like _that_." Watari said, sounding kind of sulky.

Mitkiel offered both hands toward us imploringly. "All victims ask for is justice." He beseeched us. "But because of their innocence, they cannot fully appreciate the course of judgment. And that is where Pandora has become most useful." He smiled and swept one hand down his body. "He is innocence personified. I have removed the innocence from those victims that seek justice through my hand and place it within this vessel. Pandora is nothing but the goodness of every victim that it has been my privilege to serve. Once that useless morality has been removed, the victim can now acquire justice by punishing those that wronged them. It is my gift to them. I have created this playground for them. A tableau of what the guilty fear. A place where they are able to be punished accordingly for what they have done."

Mitkiel stepped forward and lashed his finger out in Watari's direction, almost as though he were attempting to spear the Guardian through the heart with his nail.

"Yutaka Watari, your day of judgment draws closer. You already wear the mark of the condemned. _The Shukusatsu._ Soon, you too will be lost to nothing but the desire to punish those that have wronged you. You will stay here in my playground, enacting those desires for eternity. For that is the fate of all victims. To punish those that wronged you, sin is inevitable of course. Revenge is a spiral; it is never ending and it drags you downwards into darkness."

Watari didn't even seem to hear the demons words. His mind, it seemed, was someplace else. His eyes narrowed considerably, his voice slicing outward from his lips like a saber aimed for the abominations heart.

"But _what_ did those girls do?" He hissed, the voice issuing forth from him with a savagery that was completely unexpected of Watari. "Perhaps I can understand why you feel that _I _am deserving of punishment – but why the _hell _did those girls deserve to die?!"

He started to scream his words, the emotion roaring from him in unbridled passion. I stared at him, shocked to see tears streaming out from his eyes, rolling down across his rosy cheeks. "What gave _you _the right to take their lives? To force yourself on them and then kill them after so much suffering? What the _fuck _gives _you _the right to judge?!"

Mitkiel raised his eyebrow, apparently not the least bit intimidated by Watari's outburst.

"You are directing your accusations at the wrong punisher, Guardian." The demon raked sharp fingernails back through Pandora's messy head of hair. I doubted he particularly cared about maintaining the standard of the boys' immaculate beauty, each gesture conducive to preserving a vision that required no further enhancement. "It's true, that I turned the finger of directive towards these women but it was certainly not by my hand that their lives were struck from this life. They deserved punishment, because they committed the sin that is most abhorrent to me. By their foolish actions, each girl, at some stage during their service at Kokakuro, became pregnant and with no thought to that small life growing within them, they annulled their pregnancies. A life is still a life, regardless if it grows for a day or a year. Does it still not possess a soul and therefore, a life to each its own possession? Was it not Jeremiah who said, '_Before I formed thee in the belly, I knew thee'?"_

"You're punishment is too extreme!" Watari cried in that same overtly emotional voice that I couldn't even begin to understand. I hadn't been able to thread that connection until only later, when Watari was incumbent upon me to share the messy details surrounding this devastating and incremental case. "Thousands of girls have had abortions. Do you intend to punish them all?"

"So long as their unborn children cry for justice, I most certainly do." The demon said softly, the countenance he wore smoothed free of the emotion lines usually expressed in the extremeties of the face. There was nothing to that face but a thin resemblance of humanity, beneath which lurked a searing coldness, devoid of even the slightest fraction of compassion. "I keep those victims closest to me. The unborn. The annulled. The still-borns. Children born mutated because their ignorant and selfish mothers imbibed drugs or alcohol, foolishly conceived at the age in which pregnancy is unwise, born through the act of incest, to name few. They are my joy, these precious bundles that no mother wished to love but whom I can now love as my own." He looked towards us with the most sincere joy in his expression. Those very rare moments in which 'anything' appeared in his face were very telling. The way he spoke expressed that Mitkiel only cared for a very small number of elements and these 'Victims' were clearly one of those. "You'll understand that soon enough. Just like them, you will remain here forever. Then, when I have completely drained all the goodness from you by the power of the _Shukusatsu_, you will beg me to come unto you."

And then he reached out to us, palm up, pointing with the index finger, the others curled back towards himself. Something chattered and yelped from across the room as though responding to Mitkiel's command and I spun around, eyes darting towards the source of the sound. Some unseen thing, moving too fast for me to track, come tearing out from the darkness beneath the wall and shot towards myself and Watari. Even as I felt my muscles tense and react to this imminent threat, the indiscernible blob, distinguishable only in its milky white and pink color, smashed hard against my right leg. A scream erupted from the depths of my throat as something unbearably sharp entered into my calf, thrusting directly through and erupting from the opposite side. I attempted to yank free when another fast moving blur tackled my undamaged leg, knocking me backwards onto the floor. My head cracked the cement hard enough to bring tears to my eyes but it dimmed in comparison to the driving pain from my ankle. I heard Watari cry out in shock and then a similar corresponding thud as our clandestine attackers also brought him down. I pushed back the blinding pain and lifted my head, trying to focus on what was crouching between my legs. I had to blink through the black dots racing before my eyes and even then I wondered whether I was imagining it or not.

A baby… no, not even that. This… _thing _whatever it was came long before infancy. It was small, small enough to sit comfortably in a dinner plate and still have room to stretch out. It possessed an abnormal sort of scrunched appearance, as though someone had clasped the creature between both hands and given it a good squeeze. The small, swollen head had one eye alone and its mouth was only half formed, the upper gums exploding outward through the flapping pink flesh. There was only one arm; the other was a mere pink nub of flesh. Its' gender was indiscernible. In its' one good hand the deformed fetus was clutching a kitchen knife, dripping with blood.

My blood.

A high-pitched squealing cry pierced throughout the room. It now made sense, the sound Watari and I had heard coming down towards this room. These malformed fetuses had been crouching beneath the walls, waiting for us… waiting for Mitkiel's word. And now they flocked out in their droves, _exploded _from beneath the walls, reaching for us with tortured keening expressions of longing. I tried to get up but they were on me in seconds, clasping at my clothing, fishing their small partly formed hands into my mouth, scratching my face. The fetus holding the knife struck the blade down through my trouser material, pinning my leg to the floor. It couldn't possibly have possessed the strength to do this but try as I might, I couldn't yank myself free. I felt panic getting the better of me. This was like a scene from a nightmare. I looked over at Watari, only to see that he was equally swarmed by the squalling, shrieking abominations. There were five alone holding him down by his hair. As I watched, one tore out a small fistful by the roots and then Watari was crying out in pain. My screams soon joined his, as those tiny rotting fists thrust down into my mouth, gagging me, choking me, no…

Mitkiel's screeching childlike laughter pierced through the attack cries of the infants. "What's wrong, Guardians? Do the spirits of the aborted frighten you?" He cackled happily.

An infant with a face that appeared to have melted together clambered onto my chest and thrust its thumbs towards my eyes with a high-pitched gurgle. The words from the poem burst through my mind and I twisted my face out of the way just in time. The fetuses barely formed nails scraped down along my cheek, tearing away the top layer of skin. It stung but the pain seemed to give me new strength. With a resolved cry, I threw my upper body forward, shaking free the few malformed creatures still clinging to my chest. One gripped my hair and hung on grimly as I pulled myself to my feet. I grabbed for it with my hand and managed to snag it by the swelling protrusion growing from the side of its head. I squeezed and a pained cry erupted from the things barely formed mouth. I ignored that humanistic side of me that wanted to pity this tortured creature and threw the infant down into the squirming mass of flesh writhing about my feet. Not wanting to lean down and expose my face again, I pulled on my leg until the knife holding my pants popped free. Then, I risked the proximity in order to fish it out from amongst the fetus' grasping hands. Clutching it tightly in my right hand, I stepped painfully through the throngs to where Watari lay, curled up in a tight cocoon, hands clasped behind his head in order to protect himself. One of the fetus' had its bent little fingers plunged into his ear, twisting madly as though attempting to pop his eardrum. I brought the knife down hard and fast, not giving myself time to think about what I was doing. I knew if I did, I would never have allowed myself to act. The blade impaled the infant through its small chest, blood spurting violently from the exit wound onto the side of Watari's face. The fetus squealed loudly and grasped the lobe of Watari's ear, tearing it free before I could react. I could hear Watari's muffled scream of pain lilting out from beneath his crossed arms but he didn't react, didn't attempt to pull himself free or clot the blood flowing from his torn ear. I pulled the vindictive fetus away and hurled it from the knife, sending it spinning into the mass of swirling pink bodies that continued to shuffle toward us. Mitkiel continued to laugh, as though he were watching the most hilarious comedy routine ever.

"Ironic, isn't it, my idiot friends?" He chuckled, seating himself back atop the altar, feet swaying languidly above the bobbing heads of 'the aborted', as he had called them. He picked up the novel and looked over the marked page, pointing down to some random section. "Saint Augustine: _Punishment is justice for the unjust._ Surprisingly wise words from a human."

The door was just beyond the altar on the right hand side. Watari and I were going through it. Whether a more grisly nightmare waited beyond remained to be seen. But we surely could not remain here, entrapped within this sea of writhing, incomprehensible bodies. The madness more than anything would be enough to effectively finish us.

I reached down through the soggy throngs of premature flesh and managed to wrap my hand around Watari's slim arm. He thrashed against me for a moment, until he realized who it was who had a hold of him and went decidedly limp in my grasp. Using his momentary weakness to my advantage, I tugged at him with all my strength, pulling Watari unsteadily to his feet and slinging his arm about my shoulder.

"Come on!" I urged, using my injured leg to kick out at one of the aborted as it ventured too close. "I need you to help me, Watari! My leg is in a bad way."

Watari gave a brief jerk of his head to show that he had heard me and then proceeded to pull me in the direction of the door, occasionally toeing some of the more insistent tots out of the way. I limped along in painful leaps and bounds, trying not to rest too much weight on my damaged limb. It had been so long since I had actually endured a wound that hadn't immediately healed and as such, I was a little out of touch with how to effectively cope with it. My leg felt like it was on fire and I kept hissing through my teeth, as though this may have somehow alleviated the tremendous pain.

Mitkiel's sharp laughter speared after us as we kicked and hopped and limped toward what we could only hope was our point of escape. The demons voice dropped and became suddenly deep, with an eerie echo like quality.

"Ah, how adorable you are, Guardians! You think that by running from me, I won't be able to see where you are? This is my labyrinth! I can step into these walls as easily as I stepped into this boys' body! I can always see you, Guardians. So by all means, run, run, run. Run from me. It only heightens the pleasure I'll take in eventually catching you."

Watari wrenched open the door and we fell through in a tangled mess, my leg screaming in objection. I clenched my eyes shut, fighting back the phenomenal pain and slammed by good foot against the door, smashing it shut with violent finality, silencing the last of Mitkiel's menacing shrieks.

The reprieve lasted a bare insatiable second and then Watari was screeching again, near destroying what was left of my patience. I looked over, fully intending to tell him to shut his mouth, when I saw what it was that had promoted his panicked reaction. One of the malformed fetuses had hitched a ride in with us and was determinedly pulling itself up Watari's back, using his hair as a sort of pulley system. Watari's breaths came hard and fast. He was hyperventilating, his usually calm and laid-back nature, collapsing from the dread horror of our situation. I saw him reach back and rip the little monstrosity out of his bloodied locks, dropping it down onto the tiled floor. It squirmed around for a moment, like a turtle flipped on its back, unable to right itself. I went towards it, fully intending to dispose of it with the knife but Watari; gentle, predominately non-violent Watari, beat me to it. He brought his bare foot down in an uncharacteristic show of brutality, the first strike sloughing the doughy skin clear off of the shrieking infants bloated face. This caused Watari to lose his balance and he stumbled as the flesh slipped free from the soft skull. The second strike split the head wide open, the rotted brain matter exploding outwards like candy from a Piñata, coating Watari's lower leg in gore. The third and forth hysterically executed blows collapsed the chest and thoracic cavities, the soft, barely formed milk bones collapsing with barely a sound. When the scientist lifted his foot the fifth time, I felt I had to act and I flew to my feet, pushing him backwards by the shoulders to prevent him from taking the undesirable deed any further.

"Watari, Watari stop!" I pleaded, appalled by the sheer panic in my voice. It was difficult to believe that I could have ever been frightened by my usually docile and carefree friend but here was that unpredicted moment. The look of blind rage in his eyes was sickening. "It's dead! It's dead. It's okay now. You're okay now."

I brought my hand sharply across his face, just in case my words weren't enough to bring him out of this hysterically vicious fit that had seized him. His eyes rolled for a second and then gradually came back into focus. He looked at me, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts from his lungs and then glanced down to take into account the devastation he had unleashed upon the aborted.

"A baby…" He whispered and then hurriedly pulled free from my hold, darting over to the far side of the room. As my eyes followed him, I was able to take into account just what kind of space we had come to occupy. It was a bathroom. Big, roomy and sophisticated in appearance. The door we had just entered from was situated in the small alcove a toilet might normally occupy. There was another door, just opposite this and situated on the right hand wall just in front of it was a well-maintained porcelain sink, of which Watari was currently puking into. My own stomach was turning at the mess currently leaking across the floor near my feet but I was able to control my gag reflexes as I stepped out from the alcove, putting the infantile corpse to my back. I supposed I might have possessed the same reaction as Watari if it had been me responsible for killing it.

Watari knelt down on his knees, apparently no longer able to support his weight. I wasn't exactly hankering for a look but I happened to notice the strange hissing noise emitting from the basin and glanced into it as I made my way over. The vomitus matter emptied from Watari's 'stomach' clogged up the plughole but it wasn't the usual purged matter one might expect to see divulged. It was some sort of thick, black gunk that swirled at the base of the sink and dribbled down from Watari's chin. The color of tar with the same glutinous density.

"What the Hell…?" I murmured, tucking the bloodied knife blade into the band of my trousers, where the blade rested cool against the heated skin of my hip. "Watari… you okay?"

Watari's body started to shake, his arms slipping free from the immaculately polished porcelain and sanctioning themselves tightly around his waist, as though to protect the soul sheathed within. There were feeble noises leaking out from between his lips and he couldn't seem to comprehend a word I was saying.

"Utburds…" That one word he continually repeated over and over again between his other more hysterical ramblings. "Utburds… to think he could govern such spirits!"

I had learned about these apparitions whilst conducting some research for a previous assignment, a number of years ago. Russian superstition told that if a baby was born into a family with too many mouths to feed, the parents would traditionally dig a shallow grave and put the newborn in the base of it, leaving it exposed to the freezing winter elements for the entire night. The very next morning, the husband would come out and dispassionately fill in the grave, throwing the dirt in over the face of his flesh and blood. It was considered fairly standard practice over a century ago, if the family couldn't afford to feed another child. Rather than let the infant suffer, they would offer it a sedate and relatively painless death. But the spirits resulting from these infants were perhaps one of the most dangerous and vindictive types you were likely to come across. For years after their death, they would accumulate power and store it, all for the task of returning to the house in which their parents residing and visiting upon the bedside of their mother. The spirit would enter the house as mist through the keyhole and take on a vague, milky countenance of the infant they had been in life. After it had assumed this temporary guise, the utburd proceeded to the foot of the bed. It climbed up over the mothers body, crushing her chest beneath its icy weight and her husband, if he should have attempted to halt its' ascent, would have felt nothing but the cold air that had taken the newborns life, now making up the entirety of its essence. Once it had made its' way up to confront the mother face to face, the infantile spirit would thrust its' little fists into the mothers eye cavities and blind her as retribution for giving life and then just as carelessly taking it away. I had never actually come across an utburd before then, thank goodness. They were governed by the laws of retribution and would stop at nothing to carry out their revenge. They absorb far too much power following their death to be halted once they put that energy into effect. I suppose it was fitting that such creatures should be at Mitkiel's command. Both he and the utburds appeared to have tunnel vision when it came to justice and punishment.

I knelt down beside Watari, gently running my hand across the crown of his head. There was a sticky lump of congealed blood from where his hair had been ripped out by the roots. I tried not to aggravate this wound as I sought desperately to calm him.

"The aborted…" Watari whispered, his eyes protruding from behind his glasses. I could see the red veins stretching out towards his pupil, expressing the strain the vessels behind his eyeballs were under. "Any one of those could have been… that one whose head I just crushed… could have been… could have been mine…"

I'll admit; I was stumped. "Watari… none of those could have been yours. You're a boy, remember? Boys don't have babies!"

Watari pulled himself onto his knees and dry retched a few times. The third time, he vomited again and once more what came from his body resembled viscous black goo that actually steamed as it hit the floor, missing the sink completely. It sat there for a moment, bubbling offensively like an egg in a frying pan, before evaporating completely into steam.

"Tsuzuki… I think I'm purging darkness…" He murmured, as though I might easily make heads or tails of this. "There's something… poisonous… that's been seeping into us while we've been here… in this place…" He pinned his arms around his shaking body, lips stained black from whatever had just surged from his stomach… or whatever constituted a stomach in these representations of our true forms. "Tsuzuki… help me. I'm sorry but I'm scared! I'm scared shitless! I can't take any more of this… I'm suffocating…" His honeyed eyes dropped down towards the floor, pushing the following whispered words along his line of sight. "…_need drug…"_

I literally fell away from him, landing hard on my butt and jarring my hands as I attempted to catch myself from tipping over completely. I could feel the blood pounding in between my ears, as the panic heightened to near uncontainable levels.

The words from the journal! The needy, despairing cries for help… help that never came.

"What did you say…?" I asked very slowly, giving him the option of correcting me in case I had heard wrong. I prayed to all that was Holy that I had and would do well perhaps to go and have my ears syringed out at the soonest available time.

Watari climbed unsteadily to his feet and backed himself up against the far door, the one I had not yet seen beyond. His expression was that of a man pushed to the edge of his limits, with no hope of further maintaining a strong composure. Any strength he'd had to begin with had been eradicated completely by the horrors we had been presented with.

"I need to get out!" Watari cried, confirming my suspicion that I had simply misheard him. "You don't understand what it's like for me! I need air – I HAVE TO GET OUT!!" With that, he wrenched open the door and ran from the room, pulling it shut so hard that it bounced back open from the impact.

"Wait!" I screamed, racing over and pushing the door open completely in order to step through. "Don't go running off on your own, Wata-" I stopped when I felt something twitch in my shirt pocket and before I could react in any way, the calico journal physically leapt free and fell with a soft thud to the floor. As I watched, the pages blurred open and flipped with haste to somewhere near the beginning of the book. I stepped close to it and knelt down, feeling my heart start to race in my chest at what I was witnessing. Black writing was starting to appear on the pages, as though someone were recording their entries as I looked over their shoulder.

**October, 31st**

I've been sad since Mom died but everything's turned out okay after all, just like she said! I've been staying with my Papa and my sister. I miss Mommy but I'm happy that I'm able to spend more time with Papa and Nii-san. I wish we could all be together. Why couldn't Mommy and Daddy forgive each other? Is it my fault? Because I was born maybe that's why they couldn't love each other anymore. Papa says it's not my fault. But he's so nice; he wouldn't ever say anything mean. Even if it was the truth.

I miss my Mommy. I won't ever see her again… 

I had just finished reading the last line when I distinctively felt a small, cold hand gently clench my shoulder. I grabbed a hold of the journal and whipped around, bringing it in front of my body defensively.

A teenage boy stood behind me, clutching what appeared to be a porcelain bisque doll beneath one arm. The doll had generous golden corkscrew curls for hair and those famously cold icy blue eyes that were so popular for whatever the reason. The boy himself was quite tall but rather slender. He had gray, lackluster eyes and silver hair like Muraki, but unlike the cold doctor the boy possessed a sort of gentle, surprised expression. He was wearing what appeared to be a black high school uniform, ironed to perfection.

"Look Veronica," He said, talking, I assumed, to the doll. "A visitor. Do you think he's from the outside?"

I tried to smile encouragingly, though I wasn't certain whether I could trust this kid or not. After working for the Judgment Bureau for a number of years, you sadly grow accustomed to maintaining such suspicions around those you might even normally trust. Sometimes it makes life seem like one big paranoid game.

"Friend or foe, kid?" I asked sharply. I watched his expression carefully for anything that might have suggested this congenial façade was an act, designed to lull me into adopting a false sense of security. I couldn't detect any insincerity but then again, I didn't pick Muraki to be the psycho-weirdo he was, the first time we met.

The boy cocked his head to the side, not smiling but not appearing insensitive in choosing not to do so. There was simply light-heartedness to his persona that reverberated throughout his being.

"You're the one from the picture…!" He declared at last and that's when the first big smile appeared. He stepped in close, looking up into my face with innocent excitement. "To think that I prayed to meet you every night before I went to sleep and now here you stand before me! This is wonderful! Have you come to save me, Sweet Victim?"

"Save you?" I asked, taking a step back as he continued to breach the borders of my personal space. "I… I'm not sure… are you being kept here?"

The boy made some sort of noncommittal sound and circled around me, examining my body from all angles. It made me feel a little uncomfortable to say the least. Sort of similar to the way Muraki was accustomed to looking at me. It invoked that same slightly unpleasant sense that something unusual was going on behind that composed and self-possessed expression.

"I've been here for sixteen years." The boy said pleasantly, running one hand along my back and trailing his nails around to rest on my upper arm. "I used to be in the other place. Where you're from. That was until the marks appeared."

I had a feeling this was quickly accelerating from bad to worst. "The marks?"

"The _Shukusatsu._" The boy moved in close and pressed his body against mine. He smiled up at me with an expression I could only describe as adoring. "When it first appeared, I was there. Then, as the marks spread, I found myself being pulled here with alarming frequency. At first, only once or twice a week and it gradually progressed to the stage where hour by the hour… whether I was near a mirror or not… I'd be drawn back here. Eventually… I couldn't leave at all."

He reached up with his spare arm and brought it in tightly around my neck, leaning up on the tips of his toes in order to bring his face close to mine. The boy smiled and there was an intimacy there that I had only ever seen one other person show me. It made me wonder… This place appeared to present primarily those images of the past. And if I were to look back sixteen years in the past, as the boy had said…

"Kid…?" I reached up grasped his wrist gently, bringing it down from around my neck. "Who are you…?"

The boy smiled sweetly, his gray eyes lidded to only half-mast, lips parted enticingly.

"Back in that other place, the name that woman gave me was Kazutaka."

My heart stopped. "Kazutaka?" I cinched closer against all common sense. "_Muraki _Kazutaka?"

"You know my family name?" The boy cocked his head to the side. "Have you met me on the other side?"

Now I was more than a little confused. As far as I could tell there was only 'one' reality and the Muraki that existed in that should have been in entirety, Muraki. Right?

"The other side?" I questioned him, trying to keep that smooth, pale hand from sliding down my chest, as it seemed to want to do. "What do you mean _the other side? _Shouldn't there only be one of you?"

Kazutaka's face drooped considerably and his eyes darted over towards the door I had entered from only minutes prior to our conversations birth. "Mitkiel's mark," He began and then paused as though to build on a dramatic tension that was somewhat unnecessary in this already nail-biting atmosphere. "It… _drains_ the innocence from those he has chosen. The light of the soul is brought here and kept in darkness, whilst the darkest aspects of the soul remain 'there'… in the light. The true body eventually shuts down and goes into a tortured sleep, lasting months, years… until you eventually have no alternative but to succumb to death."

_Just like Hisoka, _I found myself thinking. I wondered if Muraki had not been responsible for the 'casting' of this spell, as he had so originally claimed but rather, had alternatively 'infected' my young partner with this 'curse'? But if that was the case, then why had Hisoka suffered for three long years and then passed away, whilst Muraki still appeared strong and healthy?

I leaned down a little, intensifying the intimacy of our conversation. This seemed to delight the child representation of Muraki to no end. "You mean to tell me that… the Kazutaka I know… is going to die?" I wondered why I heard my voice infraction as it did when I sought out the answer to this question.

The boy appeared to consider this. "I'm not sure…" He finally admitted. "Some souls can withstand the _Shukusatsu_ better than others. Perhaps my darkness -the Kazutaka you know, that is- has found a way to hold back the curse. If my magical properties are as strong, or stronger than Mitkiel's, then I guess it isn't so unreasonable that I could last for so long without the good half of my soul…"

"So the Kazutaka that I know… is actually just half of the person he used to be?" It was all very perplexing but then again, I hadn't ever come across a simple mystery during my time as a Guardian of Death. Take the case of the Tarot Curse, for example. The very notion of hypnotism creating a perverse split personality used to instigate murders in order to conceal the evidence of illegal organ transplants on a luxury liner, is not something you ordinarily stumble across in your every day drama. "And that half is – the _bad _half?"

"Yeah…I guess you could put it that way…" He smiled at me, in an embarrassed kind of way, as though ashamed he couldn't provide me with a more satisfactory answer. "I'm sorry. I wish I could still be whole for you. I can't believe I finally have the chance to meet you! You're as perfect as you were in that picture… but now you look so strong and healthy… I'm glad. I'm glad to see you this way." He leaned close to me, putting his face very near mine. "It's Asato… right?"

I found myself blushing against my will. He really had been a beautiful child. And he sounded so sweet. So innocent. I was starting to see why these elements were considered so attractive to demons. "Uh… right." I found myself smiling, a little touched by his knowledge of me. "You knew that much about me, even when you were…? How old were you?"

"15." Kazutaka said. He reached up to cup the side of my face and I couldn't help but think back to the poem written on the door upstairs. Maybe the idea that he had been responsible for the authoring of that elegy was not so implausible after all. "Asato… I hope you're not here because your soul is about to be separated too." His eyes crinkled sympathetically at the corners. "I hope that your coming here means that maybe… you can help me be whole again. If you can save me… then I know I can love you with all of my heart. With _all _of my soul."

I looked down at this boy, reminding myself again that this wasn't the part of Muraki that I had gotten to know in the past year. This boy, this sweet natured creature was not the man I was only now starting to care for. But… this _was _Muraki. And to actually find myself face to face with the proof of his enduring feelings for me… to see for myself the sincerity of that… It made me feel fuller somehow. More alive. Like the world had suddenly expanded and the guilt for everything that had passed between Muraki and I had been worth it. It was all right, I realized. Here I was faced with the entirety of Muraki's innocence, honesty and purity. If I were to believe that this boy was the embodiment of all that mans goodness, then it would only make sense that the expressions and the words of adoration he directed at me, were true.

My heart felt as though it were blossoming open in my chest. To finally know and be released from that uncertainty was utterly liberating, to say the least.

Muraki cared for me and had loved me since he had been a child.

"Kazutaka…" I whispered and I reached out to him with a genuine affection I never could have revealed before the Muraki that I knew. I pressed my fingers around his beautifully shaped chin, stroking the slight indent beneath his lips with my thumb. Kazutaka brought his fingers up and ran them down the back of my hand. His eyes were locked on mine, with that very same intensity I knew so well.

"Asato…" He said softly and before I knew better than to stop myself, I pulled the slender figure against my body and brought his soft lips against mine. I heard him moan and figured that it was probably because this part of Muraki had never been touched in this manner before. He had been here, locked out of the real world, where the dark part of himself had been rooted to run amuck. Just as you snap a rose from the stem, you can keep the beautiful part and take it away from where it has grown. But the root remains in the very same place it had been planted. So went this separation process, I imagined. The best part of Muraki, the most beautiful and presentable part was here, locked in darkness. The root, the core, remained in the real world.

The boy broke the kiss with much reluctance and stepped back from me, his smile more sweet and sincere than I had ever thought Muraki capable of. But that expression of contentment melted away, when he caught sight of what lay behind me in the alcove.

"The blond guy made quite a mess…"

I glanced over towards the fetid, misshapen remains of the utburd, almost disappointed that the boys' attentions had been distracted from me. "Mmm. Yeah… but those things were attacking us kid. He didn't have much of a choice."

Kazutaka shook his head at me, the doll clutched tightly to his chest. Its' dress alone shielded his entire upper torso.

"No. Made a mess _long before _that. I don't think he realized what was going to happen because of what he did."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, wondering why Watari's name was being frequently dragged through the dirt here. Kazutaka started to reply, when a foreign tapping sound distracted him. We both looked over towards the mirror positioned above the sink and Kazutaka emitted a small chuckle, drawing the doll in tight against his body.

"Ahh… looks like Mitkiel's trying to mess with you again."

I stared hard into the reflective surface of the mirror. It was only now I noticed that Kazutaka's reflections and mine did not appear. The exterior was as thick and congealed as molten silver.

"Is there something in there…?" I wondered.

Kazutaka made a supportive gesture with his head. "Why not go take a look yourself? I'm sure it's nothing that _you_ can't handle."

The tone of his voice proved conducive towards my decision to approach that mirror. It made me feel bigger and powerful, in a place where power had been effectively struck from me. To think that Muraki could have brought that out in me!

I made my way towards the mirror, my heart racing in the bounds of my chest, unsure of what I was going to be confronting. What manner of nightmare would emerge through that glass this time? I tried not to let my imagination get the better of me as I leant over to look into the tumultuous surface of the mirror. I could see nothing, nothing appeared to me. Nothing burst through, nothing held my gaze. I edged closer and closer and yet there was nothing. Just that tapping. That tapping from within. That sound that had shattered the mirror within my bathroom drilled through my mind and reached into the primitive factors of my consciousness. A fear started to rise in me, a trembling coursed along the length of my body, reverberating the flesh of my bones down to the very tips of my fingers.

"Kazutaka…" I called, wanting the affirmation that he was there and that presence was of some comfort to me.

But before he could answer that nothing became something, all in the space of one turbulent breath. _Something_ emerged from that indescribable surface and grasped me by both shoulders. I looked up, hoping desperately in my heart to see, that which had been snatched from me, both an hour ago and then a near century before that. And it _was_ her face that confronted me. But the sweet visage of my sister was not that face I remembered in life. What stared back at me now was a memory. A memory of her body beneath the dirt, decomposing, the hair hanging limp from around her once beautiful face, flesh now falling away from the yellowing bone, one eye socket gaping threateningly.

"_R-Ru-KA!?" _I questioned, my eyes welling from the insult of what had become of the perfection that had been my sister. Her cracked fingernails dug into the arms of my shirt, piercing the skin beneath. She hauled me closer and I could smell the stench of death permeating out from between her peeling lips.

"_How… could you…?_" She hissed, chest heaving breathlessly. Her fingers tightened around my arms and then, I was pulled forwards, sucked through that silver surface as effortlessly as a fish through water. I heard Kazutaka scream my name, just before I was yanked completely into darkness. There was a severe pain, as though I were being drawn along a contorted drainpipe, rapidly sweeping my essence towards some far distant ocean. I could still hear Kazutaka's scream in my ear and I longed for his presence just as soon as it was speeded away from me.

The nauseating motion of being pulled eventually stopped and I threw my eyes open, hoping to see the ceiling of my bathroom glaring down at me. I was confronted instead by a sudden pressure thrusting down upon my neck. I looked up from the bed I had come to find myself occupying. Sheets were twisted around my bare flailing legs. My nightgown was twisting. And someone was sitting on top of me, their hands clasped unmercifully around my slender throat.

I was gasping and speaking but I had no control of the body that should have been mine. It was as though I had been reduced to something of an impartial observer. My hands came up of their own accord and grasped the wrists of the one who was holding me. "Stop… please …" The voice that was mine but wasn't mine, pleaded.

"How _dare you!_" A strangely familiar tone screamed from the darkness above me. A face loomed down; entering the light that was somehow there and I felt my heart plummet down into the pits of my stomach. I screamed in gagged silence, staring up into the face I would ordinarily see when looking into my own mirror.

"How can you get sick and leave me all alone?!!" The me – that wasn't me – bawled into the face of whomever I was seeing through the eyes of. The mystery was soon answered when Ruka's gentle, feminine voice lilted out from between the lips I could feel but had no control over.

"Tsuzuki… you're hurting me…"

Oh God… was this the past? Was I seeing the past through the eyes of my sister?

Me – Tsuzuki – wore an expression of terror and anger. It was beyond strange seeing myself through the eyes of another, especially wearing an expression like that.

"I want you to hurt the way I hurt!!" The me that wasn't me screamed. I wanted to shake free from that blazing glare I never would have thought myself capable of. That expression my face held… it frightened me even more than the most fearsome of manifestations I had ever beheld on Muraki's face. "It isn't fair! I _hate you! I hate you, I HATE YOU!! _

The eyes I shared with Ruka flashed to and fro. She watched despairingly, holding me hostage to this nightmare scenario I had no memory of as Tsuzuki reached down, drawing something out from the band of his pants. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I – he – held the knife that I had taken from the infant! But that was impossible! Wasn't this supposed to be a scene from the past? Or had present and past somehow become entwined? I couldn't get a handle on any of this. The circumstances of this unexplainable situation further escalated to the extreme, when I saw that blood swathed blade pitch upward in a wide awning.

"_No!_" My mind screamed silently as Ruka begged me out loud not to hurt her. That she was my sister, that she loved me, that we could get through this- But it seemed I hadn't listened. I was forced to watch and endure, bound and helpless as the other me brought the blade down over and over again, stabbing my sister first in her beautifully curved chest, then serrating the pulse line in the neck, concluding the hysterical attack with continual frenzied slices that tore the flesh from Ruka's face. My mind threw itself desperately back into the dark consciousness I had sought out during my time in the hospital. Amidst all the poking and prodding, the application of needles and constant surgery to repair the damage I bestowed upon myself, I protected my soul by adopting a periodic numbness to the actual procedure of existence. For so long I had lain in that bed, staring through the glass of the nearby window, watching the world without truly comprehending it. A glassy blankness stole over my senses and though I felt the wounds inflicted upon Ruka's body as though they were my own; I was able to protect myself in a sense. I felt I had no choice. How do you deal with something like that? To be stabbed in itself is a terrifying, not to mention painful experience. But to be in my position; to be placed behind the eyes of my sister and witness first hand what it seems I had been responsible for all this time… it was… mortifying. As though the threads of my common sense had been severed, I felt my mind start to unravel and curl back upon itself, shrinking into darkness. But no matter how far back I attempted to put myself from what was happening, the reality was still so very close. I was being killed and I was the one doing the killing. As had been the scenario when I had chosen suicide. When I surrendered my life to that one decision: Not to be.

Here again, I was faced with that. Faced with a new truth perhaps. And I was scared. I was scared of who and what I was capable of being.

"_NO!!_" My silent protest continued, drowned out by Ruka's dying screams. Her arm flailed, striking the vase of white roses I must have set next to the bed, so that my sister could be in the company of the living nature she had loved so much. The vase fell and shattered upon the floor, the fully bloomed bulbs scattering everywhere. The blood spurting from Ruka's gaping wounds soaking them. Above the shrieking pleads of my sister, I became distressingly aware of the string of sobbing bursting from the mouth of the other me as I continued my mutilation of my sister.

Someone was standing beside us. I caught sight of who it was, through the one good eye that _I _had not stabbed. It was a third representation of myself. Myself as the child I had seen in my mind. At first it had been in the hospital when I had been alive and the second time, when Muraki had pushed me back into that glassy state of passive repression.

The boy – _Asato _I chose to refer to him as – looked down at the scene with a small, but contented smile on his round, childish face. He clutched a pair of flower trimmers in one hand, the blades stained red.

"I suppose it's your fate to continuously trim the needless buds, Tsuzuki." He said to the me that was trapped inside my sisters dying body. "_For the flower that is yourself, you'd let families die. Even your own._"

"_No_!" I cried out wordlessly, not sure whether my thoughts reached the child. "_I… I didn't want to kill her!!"_

Asato just laughed at me. He laughed and he laughed, bringing the clippers up towards his mouth and separating the blades.

"Tell tale tit, tell tale tit, your tongue shall be split. All the little doggies will come and have a bit."

"_NO_!" I pleaded, my mind screaming as Asato slid his tongue down across his lower lip and cut it through vertically with the trimmers. Blood gushed down the child's chin but he just continued to laugh and laugh-

Suddenly and gratifyingly, my eyes slammed shut of my own accord. When they opened, I felt my will stretch out to encompass every corner, every nerve and muscle of my body. I sat up, the words ripping out from my chest. "_NOOOOOOOO!!_"

Panting, my chest heaving with horror, it was a while before I was able to take into account that I had returned to the bathroom where this whole sorry nightmare had begun. I was sitting in the shards of glass, pain seizing through my body from the various cuts littering my back and neck. But none of that mattered. How could _any _of that matter?

"Oh my god…" I sobbed clutching at my upper arm in some lame attempt to comfort myself. "Ruka… Ruka, oh my god… I'm so sorry!" My chin dropped against my chest and I sobbed relentlessly, the tears I had managed to hold back throughout the last hour of terror, ripping through my eyes and pouring down across my face. The agony of my soul was so great, I wasn't sure I had the strength to surpass it. "I'm _so sorry!_"

I calculated that I had been trapped in that other world for a little over an hour. But it seemed that no time had passed here at all. I could still hear Muraki calling my name on the other side of the door and whilst I sat there, crying and mourning for my soul, the heavy built man put his strength to good use and physically rammed the cruddy wooden door, snapping the lock off at the seam. He burst into the bathroom, having changed back into his shirt, though forsaking the tie for comforts sake I suppose. He glanced around, taking the damage in momentarily and then lashing his fierce eyes around to focus directly on my crumpled, devastated form.

"What's going on? What on earth has happened here?" He demanded of me. His expression subtly changed and I could tell that he was wondering whether I had perpetuated the damage myself, out of self-hatred for what we had done before I had stepped in here. "Were you angry at yourself?"

I was more than angry with myself. And more than angry with him. But whether I despised him and condemned myself for all the sins we had collectively committed, both individually and together, didn't change the reality that he was the one I needed. He had desired me for countless days, minutes and seconds and the many years that formed from these passing times. And I couldn't condemn him now. Not now, when he was here and ready and willing to _be _for me.

And that was enough. For now. For this moment.

"Muraki!!" I sobbed, stretching out with both my arms and reaching for him. I didn't even care that I was naked and so vulnerable to him right then. That didn't even factor into it. And Muraki took no exception to it. He swept forward without hesitation and brought his hands around my body, pulling me in close and tight and coveting me. We stayed that way for a while, just long enough for me to leech away that undeniable urge to simply sob and scream my grief. When words were permissible again, I lifted my face from the crook of his shoulder, his shirt now sporting a rather fetching damp patch and forced my swollen eyes to connect with his disturbingly mismatched ones. "Something terrible is happening…"

"What is it…?" Muraki asked, his fingers working gently against the cut skin of my bare back. These tender movements seized up momentarily as he registered the severe state I was in. "Mr. Tsuzuki… you're trembling." He pressed me away just enough so that we could meet face to face. "Tell me what happened."

I parted my lips to allow the entire sad story to spill from between them but was rudely interrupted by the sound of the telephone bleating from the living area. At first I considered ignoring it, until I took Watari into account. What if he had made it out of that 'other place' also and was trying to get in contact with me? It was imperative that I had peace of mind about his well-being!

"I have to get that!" I said, jumping to my feet and snatching a towel from the rack to wrap around myself. Muraki grasped my inside elbow attentively as I made my careful way across the glass strewn floor. No way was I going to avoid getting cut but I wanted to avoid the worst of it.

"You should let the machine get it." He said, stretching out his spare hand and brushing his immaculate fingernails across my cheek. I instinctively ducked away from the touch. I still wasn't entirely comfortable with him, even now. "It's more important that you take a moment to recover from whatever it is that has frightened you so."

I shook my head brazenly; water still trapped on my hair spiraling out from the hurried movements. "No, I have to get it! It might be Watari! I have to know that he is safe! What if he's still trapped in that awful place, with no way out?"

Muraki twisted the shower levers to halt the flow but then looked back to me with a considerable expression. "_What _awful place?" He asked carefully, looking over at the now completely shattered mirror. I could almost see the light bulb dimly flickering above his head. "Mr. Tsuzuki… did something come out of there…?"

At that time I hadn't any prior knowledge of Muraki's experience in the toilet at the cinema and as such had no interest in threading a connection with him. All I knew then was that the phone was ringing and if I didn't get my ass out there in time, I might miss one very important call

"I don't have time to explain!" I snapped, hurriedly wiping at my dripping nose with my arm, not even pausing to consider how disgusting this was. "I have to get that phone!"

I snatched open the door and liberally raced out of the bathroom, towel flapping behind me. The wounds I had sustained in the 'other place' held no sway over me in the real world, which proved a major blessing as I dodged around the various bits and pieces I was so prone to leaving just lying about in the open. I vaulted into the lounge area where the phone was trilling urgently from the charger on the kitchen counter. I plucked it out of the cradle and jammed it so hard against his ear that I actually bruised the shell.

"Watari!" I shrieked, sounding ridiculously blubbery even to my own ears. I cleared my throat, trying to wean the sound of tears from my voice. "Watari, is that you? Are you okay?!"

The voice that answered was familiar but not Watari. "Watari…? No, it's me Tsuzuki. Tatsumi." His voice became predictably suspicious. "Don't tell me Watari has gotten himself in trouble already?"

I felt cold heat steal through my body. "Tatsumi…?" I blushed guiltily, running my hand back through my hair. To speak with Tatsumi when our greatest known enemy was lounging around my apartment with me… can you blame a guy for feeling just a tad ashamed of himself? "No… nothing like that! It's just… y'know I can't help but worry about him! Hanging out with Muraki's friend and all!" I gave a big and totally fake sounding chuckle that sounded phony even to me. I quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, what's up Tatsumi? Where you calling from; home?"

"No, I'm actually still at the office." He said, sounding as alert and composed as ever. I looked up at the wall clock and raised my eyebrow when I saw what time it was. Seriously. The guy needs to learn how to sleep. Might improve his mood some, if anything. "Sorry to call you so late but Terazuma and Wakaba filed their status report today and I've just finished going over it. They conducted a clean up into a demonic attack at a Tokyo cinema around a week ago and have recently rounded off the investigation. They made a little discovery. It's big news, Tsuzuki. Good news."

I took myself back a week ago. The cinema… that was where Mitkiel's demon had came after us! You could hardly call it a coincidence. Not that I had seen Terazuma and Wakaba there myself but then again, I hadn't exactly been in my right state of mind at the time.

"Really?" I said, keeping my voice carefully neutral. I wanted to avoid saying too much in case I impeded my already delicate situation. "Can't it wait until tomorrow mornings meeting, Tatsumi? It's kind of late… and I'm _really _tired!" I stressed a loud yawn to provide suitable evidence as to my weary state. Tatsumi ignored me as was his custom.

"I would normally delegate such information until then, Tsuzuki but I figured this was something you would want to hear as soon as it hit the desk." His voice was building up in tenor, indicating that we were approaching his dramatic announcement at high speed. "Tsuzuki… we've found him."

I felt a flush go through my body. To say my blood ran cold would be an understatement. It wouldn't take three guesses to figure out who _him _was. "Found him?"

Tatsumi made a noise of confirmation. "Kurosaki was right. He _is_ still alive, Tsuzuki. Terazuma recognized him at the theater. He turned up just after this demon had attacked. He's back, Tsuzuki. Kazutaka Muraki's back. And I would bet my bones that he was in someway responsible for the summoning of this particular demon. No doubt an attempt to lure you out is my guess."

_Oh, if only he knew. _My body stiffened as I heard the _him _in question step up behind me and gently clutch my shoulders between both hands. He held me tenderly, just giving me the presence of his body.

"You're… kidding me?" I asked Tatsumi, trying my hardest to make my ignorance sound convincing. I'd had a lot of experience playing the giddy goat and it certainly paid off in rare occasions such as this. Tatsumi's voice was flat out excited. In a proud, fierce sort of way.

"I knew you'd be thrilled. Terazuma conducted some research regarding the good doctor and found where he has been living this whole time. We've got the address waiting for you. The chief will explain the details to both you and Kurosaki tomorrow."

"Details…?" I asked, having a good idea what this meant and sure as Hell not liking it. "Tatsumi, what are you saying?"

His voice took on a dismissive, final air. "I'll explain everything to you first thing in the morning. Make sure to get here early; don't go dallying at the Cinnapon, you understand? This is very important. We've finally got Muraki where we want him."

I nodded pointlessly, my voice a stuttering susurration. I hoped he didn't realize that I sounded a little less than happy about what he considered to be a mega breakthrough. "I… I understand Tatsumi. I'll see you tomorrow, kay?" As Tatsumi was about to hang up, my previous reason for my panicked dash to the phone came to mind again and I brought his attention back to me. "Oh and if Watari happens to report in… just… tell him to give me a call okay? Just for a catch up." I tried to make it sound light-hearted. Nothing of real importance. Inside, my heart was racing with worry that I might never get that phone call.

Tatsumi chuckled patiently. "I'll make a note of that Tsuzuki. You be sure to get some sleep now, you hear? It's going to be a big day tomorrow!"

He was very happy. Once upon a time, I could have joined in with his enthusiasm and settled down to sleep with thoughts of the mornings mission serenading my dreams peacefully. Now, I was nothing if not terribly confused.

"I gotcha. You get some rest too, k?" Tatsumi was my boss but he was additionally my very dear friend. I would much rather have spoken sincerely to him in this manner and meant every word during our conversation. It sucks having to lie for someone you have done nothing but be honest with for the years you have known one another. "G'night."

Tatsumi thanked me in kind and I hung up the phone, looking down at it for quite some time without really seeing it. Muraki continued his gentle ministrations on my shoulders, but when I glanced over my shoulder at him, his eyes were somewhere else too.

"They've found me… haven't they?" He said. And there was a blank impartiality in his voice that made me want to scream at him. Why couldn't he suffer for this the way that I was? Why did he have to not care all the time? Was it because of this 'half' that was missing? I didn't know. There was still so much that was a mystery to me and to reconcile for my naivety was the silence of my voice and mind that could offer no suitable explanation for how we were to pass through this oncoming sequence of events and emerge from the far side, still complete and still safe in this secluded world we had built around ourselves.

"Yes." I whispered, wondering even as I said this, why my heart was so sickened by it. Muraki said nothing further but his body spoke complex feelings that a voice couldn't possible aspire to. He pressed my body in alignment to his and requested nothing further from me for the time being. Together we stood, savoring the silence of this place and the mystery of one another and that was enough for us.

For now.

_To die, to sleep – to sleep perchance to dream. _Hamlet is confronted by these two inexplicable choices. To eliminate the reality by denying his existence within the cursed circumstances that have been thrust upon him – or to confront this difficult agenda and stand for that which he now considers most sacred to him.

The truth was, that I had come to care for Muraki. That was the indomitable genuineness of the matter. Here we stood, me, the complete and complex combination of light and darkness, untouched by whatever it was that had ripped Muraki in half. Had made a victim of him.

Victim. Hadn't Mitkiel himself said that it was the fate of all victims to eventually become sinners? If I could believe anything that this demon had said inside of that nightmare, could I trust my heart to the possibility that this abominable creature I had come to genuinely care for, was as much a victim of any number of those vices of which I myself were capable of? To see Muraki's goodness… to know that he wasn't entirely corrupted after all and that there was still a chance he could be _saved_. Made _whole. _

A victim. Muraki was a victim. He had been torn in two by Mitkiel, when he had been only a child. And no child is guilty of any sin that we Guardians of Death could possibly judge them for.

This argument may have been enough… just enough, to convince my colleagues to stay their hand. Muraki was not our great enemy after all. He too was a victim.

And it was our job to save the victims.

To exist and fight your circumstances, no matter how impossible they may seem. Or to surrender and disappear from this world entirely, leaving behind both joy and pain for the sliver of a chance that better dreams may come.

To be or not to be. I guess that's always the question, isn't it?

_**-EC-**_

**NaPap: **Whooo! That was a long chapter! Not to mention _really _hard to write! Especially after such a long hiatus!

**Watari: **(Back from having his acid bath, still looks completely normal) Nooo! I was so lame in that chapter! All I did was whine and run around screaming like a girl!

**Muraki: **Appropriate, considering that you were dressed like one.

**Watari: **Oh, shut up you! You're gonna be dead in the next chapter! Tatsumi's gonna smack yo butt with his shadow minions of death! So enjoy living while you still got the chance!

**Oriya: **Why on earth are the two of you bickering? At least you were _in _the chapter. Me? I'm still in the alleyway with that horrible little teenybopper demon.

**Tsuzuki: **(Snuffles) Oww… I had to sit in broken glass! I think I got some of it in my butt! (Pouts)

**Muraki: **(Whips out medical kit and snaps on rubber gloves) I wouldn't mind taking a look for you, Mr. Tsuzuki.

**Count: **(Replacing his default white gloves for surgical gloves) Oh, I say you fine fellow. Allow me to assist!

**Muraki: **(Beaming) Absolutely, Nurse Hakushaku.

**Tsuzuki: **… (Hides behind Oriya) Kind of makes me wish Tatsumi and his shadow minions of death were here to protect me now…

**Tatsumi: **(Still bashing his way through NaPap's various financial crap, with the aforementioned authoress draped all over him) Can't help now, Tsuzuki-san. Too busy trying to figure out a way for NaPap to save money and still go shopping for savy clothing.

**NaPap: **You must find a loophole, Tatsumi! I believe in you!

**Watari: **(Sighs) God forbid that you actually used any one of your _twelve gods_ of indispensable power to try and refute Muraki's unwanted advances, Tsuzuki.

**Tsuzuki: **(Light bulb) Hey… I never thought of that before!

**NaPap: **(Sweatdrop) Sure you didn't pumpkin. (Points to readers) Thanks for reading, everyone! I'm so glad to finally get that chapter out of the way! Huge pain to write! HUGE! Speaking of huge things, Oriya and Muraki's split chapter is up next!

**Oriya: **(Maintains a proud silence)

**Muraki: **(Tests the point of his scalpel for sharpness)

**NaPap: **Aww… he's so cute when he gets that homicidal look on his liddle puddin! (Pinches Muraki's 'liddle puddin') But moving right along! (Adopts big, deep narrator voice) Next time on Dark Adaptation – an unexpected guest drops in on our favorite star-crossed lovers! But more importantly, Muraki spends the night! How will this affect Tsuzuki? How will they share the single futon without some form of bodily contact? Will Tsuzuki's apartment ever be the same again? And how are they going to get around this slightly incremental issue of Tsuzuki and Hisoka being sent in to kill Muraki the very next day? How will Oriya beat the mini-skirt wearing missy from Hell with only stunning good looks, one good leg and a gender-confused djinni on his side? Who the hell knows? That's right; only me! So you'll only hear the answer in Chapter 18 of Dark Adaptation: Cutthroat Eurynomous Part 4.

**Tsuzuki: **(Dramatically) Those that live in darkness-

**Watari: **(Cuts in) – need to change their light bulb!

**Oriya: **It's no wonder it never gets done at the Ministry of Hades. You guys aren't moving your backs from the wall, even if it means standing in the dark.

**Tsuzuki: **(Nods wisely) That is especially applicable if the Count happens to be around. (Wags tail cutely) Yay everyone! Dark Adaptation is back and I missed you all! Please review, because it makes me happy and inspires NaPap to keep writing!

**Muraki: **That is such a bribe, but I'm all for it because the more NaPap writes, the ever closer we come to that elusive lemon scene! (Makes stupid arm pumping gesture) Yes!

**Tsuzuki: **(Tail stops wagging) That's… not so good.

**Watari: **Oooh! That means that mine and Ori's lemon scene ain't too far off! Goodie! (Hugs Oriya's arm) Not too long until erotic naked bliss! (Sighs happily) I can't wait…

**Oriya: **(Sighs) I need to review my contract…

**Saki: **Well, this is my first time appearing officially as a muse, though I have been working with NaPap since the fics conception.

**Tsuzuki: **What kind of muse are you again? I forget. I'm the Feel-Good/Normality/Angsty Muse, Muraki's the Contrived Plotline Muse, Watari's the Humor Muse, Oriya's the Old Fashioned Romance Muse, the Count is the Smut Muse… where do you fit in again?

**Saki: **I'm the Horror Muse! I'm responsible for overseeing all the scary scenes! All the gore, the blood, the guts… y'know. Just good eats.

**Watari: **Explains why the last chapter was so gory then…

**Muraki: **(Gestures sweetly to Saki) Big brother? Come here. I want to tell you a secret…

**Saki: **Is it that you're hiding a scalpel behind your back? Because I can see it from here, idiot.

**Muraki: **… I will get you. I WILL MURDER YOU WITH MY OWN HANDS!!! Twitch-twitch

**Tsuzuki: **Uh… I think your eyebrow is trying to dance, Muraki…

**NaPap: **(Points in vague direction of 'audience.') And you! Yes you, **Jess Hughes**, don't think I haven't forgotten your bribe missy! Send some OriTari my way, baby!

**Watari: **Yeah! I need some OriTari pronto! NaPap is just _way _too slow for my liking!

**NaPap: **So shoot me, why don't ya? (As Muraki hefts up a deer rifle) It's just a figure of speech! Well, N E way, it's good to be back everyone! Reviewer reviews continuing with the next update! Until then, thanks again for everyone's support and sorry to leave you for so long! More MuTsu next time I promise! I know this chapter sucked but really, who cares?! It's the plot filler and the lemons are edging ever closer! Yippee! I love you all! Now I'm off to celebrate and catch a kip. Oh, and wash my hair. You know how it gets when you're caught up in a project. Hygiene comes last! (Runs for the shower screaming hysterically)

**Watari: **EWWW! That's so gross! NaPap!

**Tsuzuki: **(Pouts) I love the readers more than NaPap does! (Hugs readers in an overly ass kissing way) Thanks for all the support you guys! It makes me feel all warm and cuddly inside!

**Muraki: **I have _other _means to make you feel all warm and cuddly inside, Mr. Tsuzuki. (Wiggles eyebrows suggestively)

**Tsuzuki: **… (Hides behind Oriya again) Go away…

**Count: **Now, now Tsuzuki, don't hide. Come… come and accept our pure love…

**Oriya: **(Groans) To think this is what keeps the public reading. Well, I must admit it is sort of nice to be back. My sincerest appreciation to everyone who wrote in and or reviewed in NaPap's long lazy absence. It most certainly did not go unnoticed.

**Watari: **It really didn't! I'm happy to be here again! I wanna find out how the story ends!

**Tsuzuki: **No… you just wanna find out when you and Oriya get to shag.

**Watari: **Well, that too…

**Muraki: **It's terribly uncouth when men remain entirely focused on physical pleasure. (Shakes head judgmentally) Well, thankyou everyone for tuning in once more. Hope you somewhat enjoyed this chapter, though the next one should certainly be better. Sign the guest book if you like but if not, we shall hopefully see you soon.

(Cast members all wave. NaPap (the recently fully employed) is passed out unconscious on her cloud, a bottle of _Château Marguex _clutched in one hand)


	21. Cutthroat Eurynomous: Part 4

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Yami no Matsuei or Descendants of Darkness. I filed for them in the divorce but Yoko Matsushita got everything but the goldfish. Not that the goldfish wasn't worth it… love ya Fluffy.

**A/N: **Behold, the next chapter of Dark Adaptation! (Grandiose gesture) You are so happy dear readers, that you have all simultaneously wet yourselves!

**Muraki: **I'm pretty sure they didn't, NaPap. Don't delude yourself. And by the by, is that lemon scene any closer now?

**NaPap: **(Checks clipboard) Ah yes… in the chapter after the next update.

**Muraki: **You mean to say that it is at last in the foreseeable future?! I can scarcely believe it!

**NaPap: **Oh Muraki… (Hugs Muraki) It's Watari and Oriya's lemon scene.

**Muraki: **… (Tightens grip around NaPap until her face goes blue)

**Watari: **Yay, that's good news for us! (Hugs Oriya)

**Oriya: **It certainly is. (Stares dreamily into the distance)

**Muraki: **This is ridiculous! This is chapter 21 and there hasn't been one sex scene between Mr. Tsuzuki and myself! Most other fanfiction writers would have us married by this stage!

**NaPap: **(Dying) You… wouldn't think… it was so… weird if this… was a… (Hack) real novel!

**Muraki: **You are nowhere near the standard of a true author! Tsuzuki and I _will _have our lemon scene and it _will _be soon! I kill you! (Snaps NaPap's spine clean in two)

**Tsuzuki: **Um… Muraki? I have to wonder, just how is NaPap expected to write the lemon scene, if you have just obliterated her from the face of the earth?

**Muraki: **Simple. I will bring her back as a soulless corpse and manipulate her very move just as I did Maria. Only NaPap will be attached to her computer just like that boy in one of Dean Koontz's novels.

**Watari: **(Shudders) Provided NaPap is outfitted with a diaper, right?

**Muraki: **Perhaps if she had written more smut she would be deserving of a diaper.

**Watari: **I say we don't even bother allowing her to continue with the writing of this story. Whack her with the T-Virus and let's all sit around and laugh while she turns into a shuffling man eating brain dead zombie.

**Oriya: **… How will we tell the difference?

**NaPap: **You shuts the Hell up!

**Tsuzuki: **Eeek! She's a ghost! (Hides behind Muraki)

**Muraki: **(Pervert voice as he gropes Tsuzuki) Oh _my…_

**NaPap: **I'm the author, dummy! Sorry but you can't just kill me off. How would you get your lemon scene written then?

**Muraki: **(Mutters) I'd write it myself…

**NaPap: **You can't write. You have no artistic skill.

**Muraki: **Never seemed to stop you…

**NaPap: **Right. Just for that, you're getting a Turban. (Turban appears on Muraki's head)

**Muraki: **Damn you!

**Watari: **(Laughs and points at Muraki)

**NaPap: **(Giggles evilly) Well, hello everyone! And welcome to chapter 21 of Dark Adaptation! The only good thing I can say about this chapter is that it means we're now only two updates from a verifiable lemon! (Sighs impatiently) I'm starting to piss _myself_ off with these ridiculous delays and that's certainly saying something! On the bright side though, my finances have never been better…

**Oriya: **Mr. Tatsumi is performing serviceably then?

**NaPap: **Yes. Thanks to him, I was able to buy that new pair of shoes I've been coveting for some time. (Drapes self over Tatsumi, who is now permanently locked to NaPap's desk, computer and calculator) How's my hot little accountant doing?

**Tatsumi: **Struggling… if you didn't spend all your money on anime, skimpy clothing, video games and high heeled shoes, there might have been just enough left over to place a deposit on an apartment.

**NaPap: **… So scold a woman for spending her hard earned cash why don't you…

**Saki: **I'm looking forward to the next update. That's my favorite.

**Muraki: **Now I know I'm worried.

**Tsuzuki: **I'd more worried if it was the Count's favorite chapter.

**Count: **(Smiles slyly. Not that you can tell)

**NaPap: **(Pokes her corpse with a stick) Now, I know I said that this was a split chapter between Oriya and Muraki but this turned out longer than I expected and I have to keep the timeline intact, so Muraki's chapter will be updated after this one. It's already been written so it won't take long to get here, so all your MuTsu fans don't be a Muraki.

**Muraki: **Don't be a Muraki? What do you mean by that?

**NaPap: **It means they should do what you don't and keep their pants on!

**Muraki: **… Classy.

**NaPap: **Well, it's an Oriya chapter all and I hope you can enjoy it for what it is! There are some major revealing points in this chappie, so watch for them. Also, some new characters turn up! Not OC's but characters from Yami that appeared briefly in the manga! You'll see what I mean. (Reviews notes) I've really outdone myself these past couple of weeks and have written a number of chapters in advance, so updates should be coming quite steadily following this! With that being said, you can be guaranteed a lemon chapter in due time. Thanks as always for your patience!

**Muraki: **(Grumbles incoherently)

**Oriya and Watari: **(Snuggle satisfactorily)

_Say, where is my shame, when I call your name?_

_So please, don't set me free; I'm as heavy as can be._

_I will do you harm; I will break my arm_

_I'm a victim - of your charm._

_I want to be dead; when I am, I lament._

_I can be so mean; you can beat me._

_I would like to shame you; I would like to blame you..._

_Just because of my love to you._

_Oh, love itself is - just as innocent as roses in May._

_I know nothing can - drive it away._

_Oh, love itself is - just as brief as a candle in the wind._

_And it's greedy - just like sin._

_Alone... but sane..._

_I am a... love... suicide..._

_'Cause love itself is - just as brief as a candle in the wind._

_And it's pure white - just like sin._

_**-Love Suicide- (Theme of Rule of Rose)**_

**Oriya **

I have always known that I was strong. Even when I was a young boy, before my muscles had started to take shape, I had known that I would grow up to be an exceptionally powerful man. Not only strong mind you but big. By the 8th grade, I was taller than all my classmates and almost twice as broad across the chest and shoulders. Muraki had, at the time, been weedy in comparison to me. Only in his twenties did he start to flesh out substantially, shooting up like a stalk and working out just enough to sculpture his previously slender and pale body. He hadn't favorable genetics, Muraki. Both his parents had been quite slender people, his mother especially, of whom Muraki most took after. My mother had been exceptionally tall, in contrast to both men and women. She stood at 6'1, whilst my father was an inch shorter. I had inherited his broad and powerful build, passed down from our ancestors who once served as the principled Wolves of Mibu in the Meiji era. I had been guaranteed an almost impeccably strong and resilient body; never mind what my disability accounted for.

I had always known I was strong. But the day that had really sealed my confidence in my curse was shortly after I had inherited Kokakuro from my late uncle. I was twenty-three years of age, at the height of my physical prowess, though still carrying a residual limp from my accident. I had arrived back from a business meeting to find one of my girls slaughtered in the entrance hall, whilst the others lay sleeping in their bedchambers, unaware. I remember opening my mouth to scream but nothing coming out. The wound across her neck was a clean cut, precise and devastating. Blood had been splashed across the interior walls, coating everything from the floors to the light bulbs.

I had never seen a dead body before and wasn't prepared for how horrifying the experience was. I had no idea how I was supposed to handle it. My hands reached out to perform an act that was as mysterious to me as it was to anybody else and felt the delicate membranes of which comprised the universe tug, alerting me to the presence of another in the nearby vicinity. My disability… it's a little hard to explain, unless you have experienced it yourself. The closest approximation I can make is that of a spiders web, with myself as the spider, perched in the far corner within the shadows. When something enters within the range of my web, they are caught in the delicate membrane and every single, minute movement they make from that moment on, _I _can feel. Every breath, every blink, every tiny heartbeat and how quickly the blood pumps through the body. It is similar in part to mind reading, in that I can easily interpret what a person is feeling and indeed thinking by their movements, facial expressions and the internal processes of their body. There was really no way of blocking it off either, which sometimes made me feel as mad as most people in Kyoto took me to be. I was fine with that. Having this ability, this curse, gave me a great deal of leeway to add to my already substantial amount of blackmailing power that came as an accessory to this life I had entered into.

So that night, the night I had found my girl murdered, I reached out and freely concentrated, in such a way I might not normally have allowed myself. They were close enough to be snared by the 'membranes' and the pulses I felt thudding back along the connecting lines shocked me. This presence, felt no fear, very little excitement. They were pure and simply pleased. I actively focused on touching that pulse, only to feel my probing mind battered back, as insubstantial as cigarette smoke. Now I was more than a little intrigued. Intrigued and terrified, all rolled into one. I reached out with my mind again and felt a dark, tangled force rush back at me along the connecting membranes. I had never experienced such an encroachment before and tried to visualize a defensive method in order to combat it. I imagined a great pair of scissor blades coming down and snapping through the membrane, breaking the connection and locking out the darkness that hurtled towards me like water through a pipe.

I knew I had to confront the killer. Scared though I was, I was equally confident in my physical presence. My strength and my built in weapon. I leapt over the sticky pools of blood that I would later learn had stained the floor beyond repair and followed the intrusive presence into the garden beyond. My emotions were flinging about every which way and I could barely concentrate on keeping my mental guard up. Images flew into my mind from all sides. Dark thoughts, terrifying emotions. I felt malicious intent, acting purely in his or her own self-interest. The body was calm; the chemical compounds of the brain fired their synapses without irregularity. I could have been facing the most cold hearted murderer any one of my thriller novels might have thrown up, or an average Joe that just happened to pass by at an inopportune moment.

But then I felt something else… a burning sensation. A driving force, like a parasite that had attached itself to whoever this person was. It was manipulating them, promoting the dark instincts and pushing them towards violence and carnage. I felt my body quaking from the sheer horror of these dark tendrils worming invasively into my consciousness. I was frightened but underneath that fear, I was compelled to confront this presence with nothing short of persuasive ferocity. I barged into the outside area and felt that darkness slam towards me. I quickly crashed the scissor blades shut, blocking my mind off and leapt into the garden, wincing as my bad leg took the brunt of my weight behind it. In a way, I suppose I sort of expected to see him standing there. Gore coated, eyes shining with malicious nature and mouth drawn upward into a slight, self-satisfied little smirk. Unconsciously I had sensed this moment was coming for years before the blade fell. Yet now it was here, I had no expected reaction other than sorrow and disbelief.

"Did you do this?!" I cried. My heart was broken.

Muraki tilted his head towards me lazily. "You came home early, Oriya. How unfortunate. I was hoping to have this cleaned up before you saw."

"_Why?_" I questioned, my vision blurring with hot angry tears. I broached the distance between us subtly; just enough to reach the strings out and draw the web. I half expected Muraki to shake free or repel me but at that stage it seemed he had not yet fully practiced his powers and wasn't able to sense what I was doing. "Why would you do this to me? Your oldest, dearest friend?! How could you?!"

"When you throw meat before the dog, you must expect the dog to take the meat." Muraki said and it was truly then that I began to refer to him as such, in both my mind and speech. By addressing him by his family name, I threw an effective bridge between us. A distance I would maintain from that day until now. "This is my right, Oriya. I am surrounded by vibrant, delicious souls and by absorbing that energy my own power can grow and prosper. With the death of your girl, I have become stronger. Thanks to you, I am well on my way towards realizing my dreams."

"Your dream?!" I spat, swiping at my face as a tear spilt over my lower eyelid. "How could you think that justifies killing that poor girl? Don't thank me for that, Muraki! I've covered for you, for those others that you killed because they mattered not to me. But this-"

Muraki looked a little confused by my words. "But this is okay, isn't it? After all, you are my friend. You swore you would help me and this, Oriya my friend, this has been of great service to me."

"Shut up!" I swore, tightening my fist at my side. I felt the membranes stiffen in my grasp and if they were visible to the naked eye, one might see a series of sharp, strings clenched between my fingers, stretching outward into the darkness to where Muraki stood. I hadn't yet realized what was happening but it was not of my own conscious accord. Yet I knew the consequences, if not the exact method. "Don't speak of me as your friend, having betrayed my confidence this way! We made a deal, you and I that you would never breach the walls of my home with your cruel ways! And now – you have done the utmost unthinkable!" I pointed out to him with my spare hand, judging the distance between us. "Don't believe you wont pay for this, Muraki!"

He laughed. He simply laughed and the fierceness in my veins escalated twofold in response to his arrogance. I had been hurt by his betrayal and I knew that if I did not establish some basis for our continued resolve at a peaceful acquaintanceship, then he would only continue on to more terrible acts against those that were in my protection. He would, because I had let him and to give him that silent permission was the most cowardly act I was possible of.

"Pay?" He repeated the word as though it were foreign to him. "You mean to say that only now that someone under your roof has been killed by my hand, you draw the line? How hypocritical, my dear Oriya. How delightfully duplicitous." He tilted his head very slightly and I corrected the line of the membrane vaguely to coordinate the distance. "This is what I'm all about now. Someday, you'll understand that. You may even appreciate this about me."

"No!" I roared and the emotion of that one word astounded even myself. I was usually such a composed person. Men of my size and strength have little need to actively suffer our feelings. "You're my friend and I will protect you for as long as we are both upon this earth but I will not allow you to manipulate me to your own ends, do you understand me, Muraki?! I will not! And you will _never _ever come upon this house with intentions to harm those within it again, do I make myself clear?"

Muraki smiled again and I felt my temper twitch impatiently. "You do, my friend. But unfortunately, that is not a promise I can easily make."

"You shall," I recall saying. "Or you will wander in darkness, blind to everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "In which you mean to say?"

My disability expanded that night and I learnt how it might be used to accelerate my already profound skills as a martial artist. To describe it, I could say that it is most easily explained by saying that I have a means of drawing on power from some outside source, accessible from within my own body. But I cannot simply draw in an entire portion at my will but rather incorporate small parts of it, by visually ascribing a percentage. For example, the night I had fought the childlike guardian of death, I had shut my eyes and focused on the gateway within myself. I imagined it opening and prescribed an equivalent of 20 percent increase of my functioning ability. This fraction was more than enough to combat the boy and almost destroy him. I had never drawn in more power than that, knowing how dangerous it would have been to my mortal body. It was a delicate balance and even incorporating twenty percent foreign element was enough to tire me, driving pain through my essence and into my brain. That night when I found Muraki with the blood of my girl on his hands, I activated that ability for the first time, without even realizing it.

I shut my eyes and felt something stir inside of me. Something strained against some metaphysical doorway. I visualized unlatching the locks, unsure of what I would release in my doing so. The doors cranked open a bare inch, my eyes flinging open in physical correspondence and power poured through me. I let in only a very meager portion, possibly only 8 percent before sealing off the doors. It was enough. I felt my body lifted high, the residual aches from my accident a mere memory and every influx that thudded through the membrane surrounding me, was as easy to read as child's scripture. I saw Muraki as I had never seen him before, a systematic branch of vital arteries, organs and pouches beneath his flesh where the mana resided. I saw him and could have laughed at the utter simplicity of it all. To destroy anything with this power behind me was embarrassingly easy.

I felt as myself but also as another. Someone stood behind me and I was connected to them by the strings of their own membrane. I was the puppet on the ends of the puppeteers' strings, dictating my own directions. Muraki showed no sign that he had noticed any change in me and I gave no reason for him to suspect anything.

"In which I mean to say," my voice was still my own, I was almost relieved to find. "That if you ever kill anyone who is under my protection again and I will take your other eye."

Muraki held his hand up to his face, pressing his fingers across his glasses. "Educate me, dear friend. Which eye are you referring to, for I have two upon my face?"

The world shifted about me and I was moving before he had a chance to register it. I had amazed even myself, the speed in which I had breached the space between us… Twelve yards at least, in an approximation of a single second. I now stood behind him and my hand was dripping juices.

"You haven't realized it yet," I said, looking over my shoulder at him, his body as unaware of the devastation done unto it as his mind was. "But you have only one."

I hope never to revisit that place again, the night I had struck my dear friends eye from his face and listened to his screams of horror and pain, as the red rivulets poured down his pale cheek and soaked his body. I hated having to do that to him. But I'd had no choice. Because I had taken that measure, Muraki had learnt to respect me and had never insulted my power again. He had never touched another woman in my service. We had gone past that place, where for some time we had hated and feared one another and he was already starting to forget why he had come to be wary of me in the first place.

Judgment had been done unto him by mine own hand. I hadn't even realized I'd had it in me.

I was a strong man. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I knew that very well and that night only sought to prove it. If I could strike down my very dearest friend, then I knew I could face up to anything the future threw at me.

And so, in that alleyway, confronted with this insane feminine presence, which had decimated the bodies of five grown men, I felt not as fearful for my life as perhaps I should have been. I was quietly confident, just cautious enough to confirm that I was no madman. All I was certain of was that this creature stood between my home and myself. Yutaka was unconscious in my arms and hurting in more ways than one. He required immediate attention and I was unable to give him that, whilst our route to safety was blocked.

I decided I would fight the demon. Just like that.

I was afraid but no coward. And somehow, I was positively looking forward to it. Though I did hold those four men in contempt for what they had subjected Yutaka to, it did not alternatively put this creature in the right for slaying them in such a brutal manner.

And to think… I had forgotten to wear decent shoes. I felt my nose wrinkle at the thought of fighting in those desecrated remains my feet swathed in only the delicate pair of yard sandals I had leapt into when Seki had drawn me here. It would be sheer luck if I didn't manage to break them.

The girl was still watching Ichibana, though her expression was not quite so carefree as it had been. There was something calculating about the way her eyebrows were centered and I knew by opening up the pathways between us, that she was considering the possibility that the djinni was familiar to her. I pushed it a little and focused hard, tugging on the metaphysical membrane in order to access this creature before me. I could sense its' strength and confidence and knew how much damage each of its four limbs could bestow with a single blow. I sensed that she was both agile and alert, open to the subtler movements of the world around her, such as I was. There was a strange constriction in the typography of her frame however and I tightened a few bounds here and there, coming to a most alarming discovery.

I smiled to myself. "You are not what you seem. Are you, boy?"

The demon smiled at me and I saw that his eyeteeth were exposed. I was quite skilled at sizing up sexual situations – never mind my disability, it's part of my job description – so I was able to decipher that expression the instant it appeared. The boy was pleased by my appearance.

"And you," he replied cordially, licking his bottom lip tellingly. "-do not disappoint." He set one hand upon his dramatically curved hip, extending the other out in a gesture of invitation. "Allow me to introduce myself, if somewhat belatedly. I am the one who is remembered best as Prince Eurynomous; Sire of the Infernal Regions, the Cutthroat Devil of the Fourth Hour in the Order of the Nine. Since the year 3040 BC, I have worked tirelessly in order to obtain the undivine protection of each and every King and Queen of Hell."

"None too shabby a title." I conceded, drawing a slightly sarcastic smile across my face. "Am I required to curtsey? Or should I merely prostrate myself before your mighty wall of the dead?"

A smile, a patient smile stretched along the slender portions of the feminine creatures face.

"You possess a certain piquant wit that I cannot help but admire, oh beautiful one." He expressed in that generic voice. "Though you would not be foolish to preserve your manners in this case. I am an ageless presence and have drifted downward through time, long beyond those days that have slaughtered the many who were born by my bedside." His eyes slowly fluttered shut, expressing dark and sensually captivating lashes bowing to the arch of each bloodless cheek. "Of all the beating hearts and the unliving objects in this town, only one exists that is older and more powerful than I. It is both wise and deeply admirable that you maintain such circumspection of me. The Greeks equally revered and feared my name. They called me the Corpse Devourer, for the taste of the long deceased was my most guilty pleasure."

He reached outward to me, bearing that same slight smile that was near to impossible to interpret, even for one as astute to the perceptions of the flesh as I. Suddenly, he was standing before me, moving so quickly to occupy that space that even my advanced reflexes had been unable to follow it. He was shorter than I had first interpreted, standing a minute four foot ten at the very least. There was no denying the power of his presence, petite though he was. My breath caught in my throat as his long acrylic fingernails brushed along my chin and slipped downward dramatically to caress the distended arteries of my neck. The action was not seductive in the least but closer to that of a child indulging some newfound curiosity.

"I am a connoisseur of the flesh and bone of mankind; for like fine wine the nectar of the corpse is most sweet, when it has dwelt in solitude for the duration of determined time within the confines of its glass or coffin."

These were words that were even able to disturb the mind of one such as I and I'm certain this _Cutthroat _was more than aware of it. I stepped away from him, distancing myself from this bizarre creature.

The Cutthroat's smile fervently relaxed back into the soft flesh of his ghost like lips and his now serious expression drifted back to attend to Ichibana. Yutaka's head suddenly tilted back violently, tipping over the side of my arm and hanging there. I adjusted my hold in order to bring his neck back into alignment and carried him over to the opposite wall of the alley from the one that he had vomited against. I set him down gently, running my hand across the side of his beaten features and whipping free the tie worn at the base of my loose styled ponytail. I tied his wet, vomit strew hair back out of his face and propped him up as best I could, hoping that it would be comfortable enough for the time being. I couldn't sense that his body was under any serious strain from the position, so I let well enough alone and returned to my feet, fully intending to face the demon.

But whilst I had been tending to Yutaka, the boy creature had turned about and was directing the entirety of his attention towards Ichibana once more. Something about this purposeful connection made me just the slightest bit uncomfortable. I knew that Yutaka trusted the djinni astutely but then again, he trusted me, didn't he? And hadn't I manipulated his actions from day one, delaying the case by drawing his efforts towards me rather than focusing them on his job? Ah yes, I could not verily confirm that Yutaka was a good judge of character and if both these mystical creatures were to align and turn against me, not even my disability would be enough to spare me.

But Ichibana showed no sign that he was considering switching sides. Nor did I assume, was he simply allowed to do so. Yutaka was intelligent enough to have seen to that. The pair simply continued to eye one another off, and the implication was neither sexual nor antagonistic and thus, it was inscrutable to me. I had no alternative but to wait and try not to focus too much on the small hill of dismembered bodies the cross dressing wheedling was digging his high-heeled pumps into.

"We know one another, you and I…" The Cutthroat murmured, so softly that if it had not been for my curse, it would certainly have gone unnoticed. "You are familiar to me as am I to you. What is your name, little one? I cannot sense your essence with my limited magical ability."

Ichibana's head was tilted slightly to the side and he was smiling.

"Hephaestus, big brother." He said and just like that the gore riddled boy was smiling along with him and there was a great sincerity in that face where before only existed a dark void.

"Well, I'll be…" The demon said, beaming as though this were a reunion taking place at the International airport rather than a gore-strewn alleyway. God, what was _wrong _with these creatures?! "We've been wondering what happened to you, Your Highness. I apologize for my treatment of you earlier. If I'd had known - … Well, I must commend you on this comely form you have chosen for yourself."

"I was about ta say the same thing ta you, Eury!" Ichibana – _Hephaestus_ exclaimed, making a soft clapping noise with both hands. "Ye've got a weird sense o' humor, man! I ever tell ya that?"

"All the time, yes." 'Eury' said congenially, brushing at the stains riddling the hem of his mini-skirt. I stood patiently, content to see how this all panned out and whether or not it would work in my favor. "What happened to you, dear boy? Fourteen years it has been since Mitkiel sent your highness out to devastate the souls of Obama. You were to return with the acquired essence, as a means in assisting him in the restoration of his body, isn't that correct? What ever became of you? Your guardians were concerned."

"Didn't mean ta make ye worry, big brother. See, Mitkiel and I – we had us a misunderstanding." The djinni said in a downright homey voice. He and the demon shared an entire unspoken conversation, the boys bloodstained fingers set against the feminine slope of his chin.

"Ah, I see now. So you would not stand for that any longer, Your Highness."

The djinni shook its' head. "Ye know me, bro. I ain't one fer watchin' a kid suffer."

"So it was you who cost us that almighty goose chase across the continents," the demon said, eyebrows furrowing down. "What impetuous actions. And you only got the boy in more trouble by alluding to his selfish desire to be free from his contract."

Ichibana hung his head and I could sense his shame. "Tell 'im when ya see 'im, as I know you will… tell 'im Nii-san is very sorry. He was trying to gather enough souls energy, so that he would have the strength to fight you when ye all came fer 'im. But… the Ministry o' Hades took exception to my actions and I was captured by a Guardian 'o Death. I have been held in is service for fourteen years and could not save the boy whilst held by these bounds."

"Foolish." Eurynomous said and though I had no idea as to who this 'child' was that they were referring to, I understood that there was an underlying level of fondness for him or her and Ichibana had taken a great risk in attempting to spare their… life? "You may not realize it but that Guardian undoubtedly saved you. You have been protected by ambiguity these passing years and Mitkiel had long since given up on you, as had we: your peers and tutelary. You don't mean to suggest that it was _this _manner of guardian that was responsible for binding the once legendary 'Dark Scourge of 1698?'"

The demon flicked a finger contemptuously in the direction of Yutaka as he made mention of 'this' in a sour tone of voice. I felt the anger rising in my chest and very nearly cranked open the doorway within my soul, allowing the dark gift access to my body. But I restrained myself at the last minute. Itching though I was to end this discussion and race home with Yutaka swathed in my arms, I knew it was pointless to engage in violence if there was an alternative absolution. I bit my tongue and held my ground, biding my time.

Ichibana chuckled nervously. "Yeah, ye don't gotta tell me! I'm totally embarrassed by it!" He laughed a bit more and then cut himself off when he witnessed my volcanic expression. The look on his own face was comical, as he swallowed back a rather abstract lump from the sounds of it and glanced upward into his 'brothers' face. "Look, what I mean to say Eury is that – we… well, Watari may not be the most favorable person to work for, but I'm still in his charge so… if you wanna get down and dirty with his hot hunk of stuff boyfriend here, that's not technically my concern but it's in my contract to protect the bubble brains best interests and I get the feeling tall, dark and handsome over there might just qualify. What I'm saying is…" He sounded as nervous as the high school nerd asking head cheerleader to prom night. "… if you choose to go to fisticuffs here, I got no choice but to intervene and let's face it… I really ain't in the best state right now to be fightin' anyone. I think I've got an onboard guest, if you catch my drift…"

I did not. The demon on the other hand, did.

"How many times is this now?" He requested with fond impatience. Ichibana raised five fingers, his expression hinting slightly in favor of modest embarrassment. For a moment, the demon seemed torn.

"Aye, Pumpkin. You need to learn to protect yourself better." The demon groaned, rubbing his temple with his fingers, suggesting that a headache was imminent. I could feel the symptoms already setting off within his mind and they were starting to travel along the membrane to manifest themselves in my own body. It was enough incentive for me to cut through the cord. A migraine was the last thing I needed, especially in a situation where I needed to focus my mind one hundred percent. I was actually a little surprised that a demon could suffer such a nominally human complaint.

Eurynomous was silent for a long time and I could tell without reading him that he was thinking deeply on whatever subtle information it was that Ichibana had fed him. Djinni and man waited patiently for the verdict and I wondered how long it would be before anyone else stumbled upon the scene and further complicated matters. I spared a prayer for a speedy conclusion.

After what felt like a millennium of delay but was in reality only four or so minutes, the demon offered a lazy shrug. As though this decision had not been of great importance!

"Alas, I suppose it cannot be helped…" He said raking long beautifully maintained fingernails back through his stripy head of hair. "Michael, you have caught yourself a break on this occasion but don't think I won't be back to test your skills at a more opportune moment. At which point, Hephaestus, I mean to convey that you might find a more convenient location for your butt at that aforementioned moment, rather than right next to his. You catch my meaning, Your Highness?"

Ichibana flashed an okay sign and gave a respectful bow. "With both hands, Your Excellency. Thankyou so very much for this."

The boy-creatures eyebrows arched downward, producing a regretful expression. "You do realize of course that by the directive of my contract, I am bound my Mitkiel's will to express the course of events that have occurred tonight? This naturally includes your resurgence, my dear."

Ichibana looked more than a little put out by this but continued to be both polite and courteous, which was more than I had grown to expect of him.

"I understand. But make sure that Mitkiel understands in his turn that I am the servant of the Ministry now and I am bound in my charge to protect my master and his interests." He smiled and I saw the satisfaction beam outward from his pale, overly made up features. "Make sure that Mitkiel knows that now we have crossed paths again that he is truly my enemy and I will protect those he deigns to purify in his self-righteous standard."

The demon offered a gruff utterance, impossible to interpret and pursed his lips. All I could construe from his posture and expression was that he was displeased about the agenda upon which he was about to embark.

"As… you wish. Oh beautiful and foolish one"

The boy stepped down off of the pile of bodies, the eviscerated organs squishing with each movement of his feet. He fiddled distractedly with the pulpy flesh clutched in each hand, the bloodied juices dripping through the gaps of his fingers and disappearing into the wet darkness below.

"Seems a shame to waste such potentially delicious bodies…" The boy murmured, raising the compressed flesh to his face and inhaling the scent. I was once more grateful that I had severed the line between us. The idea that I might have shared any part of this… the scent of blood… I never desired to interpret the sweetness in such a sacrilegious act. "If only I had the time to properly corrode them… for the flesh to oxidize and rot, for the skin to fall from their bones… don't you agree?"

Ichibana gave a forced grin. "Well to be honest… human meat ain't all that appealin' ta me. Gives me the hiccups. I'd rather a good aura any day."

The boy glanced back over his shoulder at me and expressed his maligned interest with a none too disturbing smile.

"How delicious it would be to watch that magnificent body of yours decay, Michael. If it were my decision alone, I would not hesitate to devour that succulent flesh from your bones." He flashed me a set of ironically white teeth and then flipped back his layered hair, as though the matter were irrelevant after all. "Oh well. Perhaps when next we meet, I might have the good fortune to sever one of your limbs. I can take home a doggy bag."

He let fly with a hysterically glancing laugh and then in what I can only ascertain to that creatures craven humor, smacked the mushy body matter into Ichibana's unfortunately extended hands. As the djinni stared at this 'gift' with wide eyes and a trembling smile, the petite creature made his exit up the wall of the alley, disappearing into the sky above from where the light rain fell. I heard a sound from the darkness above and looked up to see what appeared to be an enormous gray steed, stationed with its eight legs positioned on the buildings either side of us, its great head craned down to follow the demons movements as he leapt up towards it. The stallions eyes glared with red light, froth spitting out from its rubbery lips with every snort, mane tangled and rising up from its neck like a series of snakes in attack formation. I intentionally stepped backwards, positioning myself before Yutaka without entirely thinking about what it was that I was doing.

But the beast had no malign intentions towards us. It waited patiently for the demon-boy to draw close, parting its' mouth so that one delicate hand could sneak inside and take a hold of the great yellowed teeth. The demon swung itself upward using this leverage and landed on the stallions' broad back, with both legs hanging from the left hand side. How typically ladylike the posture. How utterly despicable to imitate such gentility when he was covered from head to toe in gore!

"Our session has concluded, Tatchomu, albeit abruptly." I had to strain in order to hear the spoken words. "Let us be off. Mara awaits us. Let's not make the dear child impatient for our arrival."

The beast let out a deep snort, spraying the alley walls with frothed horse saliva. We were too far down to be affected by it but I felt the heat from the blast, even through the rain. Having exhumed itself thoroughly, the horse relinquished its footholds on the cement roofing and lurched forward and upward so dramatically, I threw my arms up, half expecting those great hooves to come crashing down upon us. This was of no concern as I was soon witness to. The horse ran across air, just as easily as its earthbound cousins hugged the open plains. I wondered why no one else was witness to such a phenomena but realized almost instantaneously that my abilities allowed me to see what would have been veiled to normal human beings.

Normal… huh… to think that I make that distinction now without even intending it.

There was a great void of silence once the demon and its' steed had departed. I was left standing there before a pile of horribly disfigured carcasses, wondering just how the hell I was going to avoid being thrown in jail over this one. I actively sought through my internal catalogue of possible favors I could call in but nothing I had on anyone could account for what I would inevitably ask of them!

As soon as the demon was out of sight, Ichibana hurled the pulpy mess onto the ground and hastily brushed his hands off onto his caramel colored trenchcoat. It would stain naturally but this guys' wardrobe came from thin air, so it wasn't of great importance to him.

"Why did he back off?" I wondered softly, still not understanding the discreet suggestion the djinni had made before.

"I told him I might be pregnant." Ichibana said, giving me a sad but cheeky smile. It took me a moment to effectively access this. At first I nodded, thinking nothing of it. Then the reality took shape in my mind and my face contorted in what I'm sure was comical confusion.

"Are you?" I further questioned. The djinni jerked his shoulders upward lackadaisically.

"Might be. I've got the usual symptoms."

"Usual symptoms? Aren't you a male?"

The creatures' smile grew larger. "You humans… so quick to distinguish male from female based on what a body appears to be on the outside. Can you tell if a starfish is male or female? Is a sponge a boy or a girl? No. That's how we djinni are. Our internal biological organs are both male and female; we simply ascribe a physical gender for outward representation. I chose a male body because I had a great love for a human who was male. But that shouldn't suggest I'm male or female for that matter. I can get pregnant just as easily as any woman. Believe you me, now is certainly not the first time!" He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, a little shyly. "I was actually kinda hopin' that ye might be able to help me confirm it. Ye know? Cause o' yer, 'special gift' and all that. Ye should be able to tell, right?"

"I certainly owe you for avoiding a confrontation with that creature just now but if it's quite alright with you, perhaps it can wait until later?" I looked over at Yutaka, at his damaged face and body, my heart positively palpitating with sympathy for him. He was harder to read then most people and I avoided connecting my mind to those that I wanted to share intimacies with, for good reason but now when he was so close and his body in such trauma it was almost inevitable that his pain and discomfort ebb into me. It seemed cruel but I forced myself to snap the shield in place, separating my mind from his. I needed to be top of game right now and empathizing with his injuries was of no use to him in the great scheme of things. "Miss Thang said that he had used Angel's blood to poison, Yutaka. If I remember correctly, that stuff's supposed to be quite toxic if imbibed by Guardians of Death, so he must be in a pretty bad way, both internally and physically."

"Yowch. Hell yeah. Don't envy 'im." Ichibana said, twirling a strand of his plum colored hair distractedly. His eyes were boring into my forehead as though a hole had been drilled directly into the cores of my brain. "Was it my addled mind or did Eury refer to ye as… _Michael_ just now?"

I too had noticed that but had dismissed it as some kind of strange pun. It was hard to think about anything other than caring for the sick guardian.

"Mmm? What of it?" I asked, not particularly concerned with discussing it at that moment. Ichibana seemed to catch my meaning and he dismissed the possible continuation of the conversation, liberally leaping over the pile of bodies to stand at my side. We both looked down upon the unconscious form of Yutaka Watari, so helpless. Suspended there in the rain and darkness.

"I've waited fourteen years for a moment when 'e would be this weak." The djinni whispered, an almost maniacal glint in his blood-red eyes. He reached out and ran his nails down the blonds' scraped chin, feeling the texture of the drying blood between the pads of his fingertips. "I could easily slaughter his bony little butt right here and be free from my entrapment."

He clearly didn't view me, as an obstacle in this circumstance and as such his decision to do nothing at all, remains a mystery to me even now. Having uttered those sinister words, the djinni was content to leave them swaying in the wind and leaned away from the guardian, tilting his head back to bring my face into account. He made an abrupt movement with his hand and a great orb of light washed over the alleyway proper, encasing us all within it. I met his eyes, wondering if he was about to make good his threat. But he only exchanged my glance with grim perpetuity.

"Hot stuff, take Bubble-brain back ta Kokakuro. He needs to purge whatever remains of that blood within his body. Make sure he drinks plenty of water when he awakens but don't feed 'im nothin' till the mornin'. His system needs to be entirely flushed, including that which is already in his digestive system. I've thrown an Obscuring Cloak over the entire alleyway. If anyone peeps in, they'll see an empty passageway. That should hopefully buy me enough time to remove the bodies to a secure location."

"There'll be questions." I said and the djinni nodded.

"Of course. You humans are always full of questions. But I'll arrange it so that ye won't be needin' ta do the answerin'. Now git goin'."

I had no other choice then to trust Ichibana but my heart still would not rest easy. I could only pray that this wouldn't come back and bite me in the ass later. I nodded once and turned my back to the djinni, easing myself down into a squatting position and biting back the residual aches shooting through my joints. Premature arthritis; bad family history. Yutaka didn't stir in protest as I lifted him into my arms, pulling the upper piece yukata around his body securely, so that he almost resembled a baby swathed in its bedclothes. The blonds' breathing was shallow and small, unnatural even for someone in an unconscious state. I wondered whether it would be wise to have seen him to a hospital but the inevitable blood test would have confirmed that he was not human. Surely I would not be thanked for the trouble that would come about from acting in such a way! Concerned though I was by his state, the only reasonable course of action I could take was to return back to Kokakuro with him and follow the djinni's directions in caring for him.

Once I was sure that the guardians' extremeties were covered, I stepped back up to the rear door of the club and managed to twist the door handle with one hand, whilst balancing Yutaka by the bridge of my other arm. I glanced back down the alleyway and was grateful to be met with the scene of a dingy but wholly unimpressive brick and cement lane staring back at me. Using my ability I was able to sense the reality behind this curtain but normal human beings would be easily fooled. Unless of course they stepped inside the illusion.

I wondered how Ichibana might deal with this, if it were to happen? I figured it was perhaps in my best interests not to stint on this and removed myself from the scene, slipping back inside the club and weaved my way out of the supply area, emerging into the employee break room. No one was there thank goodness, so I didn't have to explain myself. Doing so as casually as possible, I stepped out into the club proper and marched in resolute confidence towards the entrance, ignoring my name as Natsuko called out to me. If anyone had seen Yutaka's condition, there would have been questions. And questions would have led to an investigation. And an investigation into me was just the sunshine I needed to slap me with all of Muraki's past felonies that it had been my bad fortune to have assisted in burying.

I carried Yutaka to the front of the bar, subject to the various hoots and hollers of the milling adolescents who must have assumed that I had picked up some blond hottie. A group of teenage girls were standing in a circle around my motorbike, admiring the sleek machine from all angles. I was unusually impatient that night and it was perhaps needless of me to have battered their drunken giggling bodies aside as I did, but I had no interest in being kind to people I cared nothing for. Paying no mind to the incredulous stares I received, I swung my leg over the wide leather seat of the bike, attempting to keep as much of myself in my thin undergarment as possible. Judging from some of the shrill exclamations from the girls nearby, I hadn't been nearly as successful in this endeavor as I'd hoped. Fortunately, Kokakuro wasn't too far by bike, so it shouldn't have been terribly difficult to balance Yutaka as I drove. I just hoped this whole thing didn't end up with the both of us laid up in hospital with all the skin scraped off of our bodies. Yutaka didn't have much left to lose!

I tucked the blond in against the line of my body, placing his long legs on either side of the bike seat so that he would remain upright as we drove. There was only one bike helmet and considering the damage already done to Yutaka's head, it only seemed reasonable that he wear it. I gently slid it down over his bloodied head of hair, hooking the straps under his pale chin. The bike groaned to a start and I pulled away from the curb, leaving the twittering throngs of adolescents coughing in the exhaust. Unpleasant of me, I suppose but I honestly couldn't bring myself to care. Yutaka was the focus of my concern at that moment; everything else went by the wayside.

**Unknown**

Ichibana had been in the process of deciding just where to begin his cleanup regime, when two figures entered through the alleyway from the street beyond. They passed casually through the Obscuring Cloak and approached Ichibana casual as you like. The djinni reacted instantaneously to their presence, spinning his head sharply and examining the intruders in the passing of a heartbeat. The figure at the forefront was tall and slender with such deliberately androgynous features that if Ichibana hadn't known better, he would have taken her for a feminine man. Following in her wake was an equally tall and tender faced gentleman, who reminded the djinni unequivocally of Watari's friend Tsuzuki. He had the same dark messy hair and wore his suit in an identical slovenly manner. This was clearly a cleverly designed farce however, because even as he navigated his way towards where the djinni was standing, the young man was pulling his suit back into place and brushing his hair down from the middle part, soothing out the messy tangles. Ichibana relaxed his nerves, recognizing at least one of these figures.

"Could have used your help twenty minutes ago, Kira."

The demonic exorcist clucked her tongue impatiently, her beautifully shaped eyes taking in the catastrophic scene before her with one controlled glance.

"You just be thankful I turned up in time to turf your ass out of that fancy netting you got yourself wrapped in." She stated, brushing back the trailing ends of her straight blond hair back over one shoulder. Though they were on opposite ends of the spectrum, so to speak, Kira and Ichibana shared a long and involved history together. Back in 1703, shortly after his furious reign ended in Germany, Ichibana had returned to his homeland of Japan and set up shop within the quiet fishing city of Shukunegi, making a quiet living by tormenting the villagers and upsetting the delicate balance on which they scheduled their quiet every day lives. Kira, having met her death at the age of twenty-two but youthful enough in appearance to pass for someone substantially younger, had been sent out on her maiden voyage in order to suppress the activities of this rogue djinni. Back then, she had only been a humble Guardian of Death, much like Hisoka Kurosaki when starting out. It soon came to the Ministry's attention however that she possessed a natural ability for dealing with supernatural beings, in particular demons. Ichibana had only been twenty-three at the time and was positively delighted to be deemed important enough to be hunted down by the infamous Ministry of Hades. Four hundred years had passed since then and the alignment between Kira Tsukiori and Ichibana of the Jann Tribe had always been ambiguously skewed, to say the least. It regularly alternated between the former attempting to trap and restrain the latter, to a dramatic turn about in which the pair would find themselves forced to work side by side in order to defeat a greater threat. In so saying, Kira had afforded Ichibana a considerable amount of leeway in his exploits and it was this factor that had forced Enma to eventually dispatch a Guardian other than his most trusted agent to finally capture the djinni.

Even now, not a great deal had changed between them. The demonic exorcist and the djinni had, in a bizarre fashion, grown up together and had been consistently involved in the process of one another's development since they had been merely sprouts bursting out into the tangled garden that was the supernatural realm.

Back then, even four hundred years ago, Kira had been a tomboy. For whatever the reason she had always felt more comfortable dressing in predominately male clothing and it seemed as though her feelings on the matter had not changed a wit. She was dressed in a sharply sculptured blue suit, that highlighted the slender contours of her body exquisitely. Her bright green eyes were able to engage your very soul, with silent talk of the days she had existed in this world and all the manner of things that had befallen her during this time, that only death could have afforded her. Ichibana always considered her attractive and never minded that she preferred to dress like a man. He had always considered that to be the main appeal; that you were required to tug that masculine garb aside in order to expose her more feminine assets.

They'd had their moments, the two of them. Sometimes, like this moment, they were nothing more than childhood friends. Other times they afforded a more compromised admonition to their arrangement and surrendered to whatever impulses might have taken them at the time of their reunion.

It had been some time but Ichibana thought her as lovely as ever.

"Been a while but you haven't changed a jot." He said, looking her up and down with what she surely took to be offensive interest. She had always been an elegant woman, regardless of her momentary weaknesses. "Still dressing like a man, I see." The djinni shrugged vainly. "Suppose that's the way ta go when yer tits are as small as yours. Say, I'm curious; are you still blonde all the way down?"

It was a credit to the exorcist's sophisticated nature in that she was able to simply shrug these indignant words off with a polite smile. She had grown accustomed to the djinni's uncouth nature many centuries ago and whilst others might have been appalled by the crudeness of his ways, Kira understood his nature only too well.

"And you're still as rude as ever. How about sheathing that sharp wit of yours before I unsheathe my crucifix?"

The djinni knew he had overstepped the mark and an involuntary shudder pierced through his toned body. The symbol of the crucifix itself was not the problem, mainly that it was made from silver and that stuff burnt his essence like a son of a bitch. "O_kay… _point taken… Listen, what brings you and your beauty spot to Kyoto?" Kira unconsciously touched the spot beneath her eye, feeling just the tiniest bit insecure about his pointing it out. But Ichibana had now diverted his attention to the suitably composed face of the young man that had since leant his weight against the far wall, clearly trying his damndest not to stare at the horribly eviscerated bodies to the djinni's back. "And who's this sweet little lump of flesh? I thought you independent agents didn't need partners ta go about yer business."

"We don't." Kira established, smirking just a bit at the attention her 'company' was receiving. From her own experiences with the young man, she wagered that he was most likely not averse to being regarded as a sex object but he had changed quite a bit since those days she had first made his acquaintance. It almost made her laugh when she thought back to what a provoking and arrogant kid he had been. It was something she should not have enjoyed as much as she did but poetic justice was always the most delicious. "But this case is… particularly unique. His majesty had little choice but to make this boy a Guardian of Death. Inexperienced though he is."

"Ah… I get it…" Ichibana mused, still examining the boys reclining figure with such fervid attention it would have surprised no one should the clothes have incinerated from his back. "He's something of a protégée ta you, right?"

"Right…" The exorcist confirmed, raising a curt eyebrow at Ichibana's continued attempts to mentally undress the boy with his eyes. "Aye, this is certainly not how I imagined my twilight years to be but there you go. He seems to be quite capable, despite my earlier impression of him. Come here." She gestured to the boy to come closer and he complied without hesitance. She _did _have him well trained, Ichibana thought with heavily inflected satisfaction. "_This _is Kenyle. Kenyle Fujisawa. Deceased less than a year."

"Nice to meet ya." Fujisawa said, offering Ichibana his hand and then gripping it for just that little bit longer in order to appraise the djinni's features with the detailed scrutiny their close proximity afforded him. It seemed that he examined Ichibana's profile from all angles, not limiting his attentions to above the waist. "Wow… you're even prettier than the blond guy… You've got great skin. Guess you get that a lot, eh?"

"Oh occasionally. And right back at ya!" The djinni smirked, recognizing a fellow pervert when he saw one. Kira chuckled, confirming as much.

"You'd best watch yourself, Ichibana. Fujisawa's a queer and he sure isn't shy about it. He's got a real knack for stealing other people's boyfriends right out from under them. Quite literally, most of the time."

"Can't a guy appreciate a pretty face?" The young man, well, whined, though he didn't seem particularly offended by Kira's words. They were clearly accurate.

"The trouble with you is that you don't _stop _appreciating, Fujisawa. That's what got you dead in the first place, remember?" Kira had snatched the lobe of the boys ear and was directing him back towards the alley wall that he had been leaning against. Ichibana leaned close to her once the protégé was out of earshot and whispered his concerns.

"Less than a year dead, huh? Isn't that a little early to be sending him out on field missions?"

Kira shrugged, burying her hands into her pockets in her uniquely masculine manner. "Well, that was my argument but… Kenyle's situation is, like I said earlier, unique."

The djinni nodded, opting to afford them some privacy in not pursuing the specifics of his situation any further and choosing instead to focus on what was applicable to him and his master. "You still haven't explained what you guys are doing here. Not that I didn't appreciate yer help earlier and all but Watari's already been sent in by the Summons Section to investigate the Kokakuro murders. Is there something else goin' on here that I don't know about?"

The exorcist laughed, giving the djinni's cheek a condescending pat.

"There's _always _plenty going on that you don't know about, djinni. The King of Hades has sent me in with Fujisawa because whispers of a great disturbance in the demonic realm has reached the ears of our majesty. We have reason to believe that the Summons Section requires some immediate support."

"Crickey…" Ichibana exclaimed, bringing his beautifully manicured nails up to cup his cheek. The mere mention of the King of Hades was usually enough to bring a shudder down his spine and a migraine to his brain. "Watari oughta feel pretty honored havin' a wildcat like you on his team."

She had always been a strong and intelligent women Kira Tsukiori and she didn't stand for nonsense. She simply let this comment slide over her, with barely the minimalist recognition. "Thanks for the compliment. Now, judging from the information we obtained from Yutaka Watari's most recent report, the suspected perpetrator of these heinous acts is believed to be none other than your old employer, correct?"

Ichibana nodded. "Mitkiel's altered mark appeared beneath the bodies of the Kokakuro victims. Not to mention Eurynomous' little visit tonight. He's still in the employ of Mitkiel and from what I gather, he set the mark of the _Shukusatsu _against Watari's body."

"That's only how it has been made to appear." Kira insisted, reaching into her inside breast pocket and withdrawing a carefully rolled cigarette, prepared in the event of idle moments such as these, in which it was moderately difficult to keep her hands readily occupied. Ichibana watched her light up and draw on the cylinder with palpable envy. Had he not suspected himself pregnant, he would have forced her to share with him, such was their routine. "If I recall correctly there were some significant mistakes in the prose woven into the sigil, indicating that the mark might have in fact been administered in an attempt to defer blame to Mitkiel. An inferior attempt at best."

"Ye don't say…?" The djinni mused, taking a step back so that he did not inhale any second hand smoke. If he was pregnant, the last thing he wanted to do was pop out a deformed baby. "Got any proof to back that up, sugar?"

"You know my line of work doesn't run on conclusive evidence, Ichibana." The exorcist sighed wearily, expressing her thoughts on the matter with that one forceful exhale. Agents that reported directly to the King of Hades and operated individually in specific demonic activity where to the Guardians of Death as the FBI is to rural police officers. It was harder, more engaging work but there came a certain pride attached to their status, that afforded them the right to strut and gloat accordingly when dealing with the lower ranks of the Ministry of Hades. Ichibana knew Kira was consistently hardworking and diligent but she had a lot on her plate right now, at work and in her personal life. He thought she handled what had to be difficult existence with both verve and grace. "When dealing with demons, you can really only go on your own intuition and in this case my feelings were right on the ball."

"So… you _do _have evidence that Mitkiel is being framed for these latest attacks? Well why not just say so to begin with?" Ichibana exclaimed with quaint frustration, tilting his hands upward in physical definition of his slight irritation.

Kira shook her head, denying his assumption credibility. "Mitkiel's definitely involved in this but he wasn't the one responsible for the murders in Kokakuro. We know this because the demon-god was in direct contact with His Majesty Enma, employing our assistance in detaining the one whom we establish to be the true instigator of the crimes committed within Kokakuro".

Ichibana felt a queer, professional persona take over him and thought it had something to do with Watari's command over him. He was due to report all information he obtained back to the Guardian, who had clearly designed the djinni's instilled commands with a purpose in actively pursuing the maximum level of facts that could be afforded. What a pain… He had no choice but to submit to this sudden whimsy however. Besides… he was curious also, loathe though he undoubtedly was to admit it. "So what are we looking at here?

"Something quite peculiar." Kira mused, twirling the dwindling cigarette between her long fingers. "A Popo Bawa."

Now that _was _peculiar, even in Ichibana's experience. It had been four hundred years since his arrival on this plane and he had yet to set eyes on this enigma of a phantom, long presumed to be extinct. "You don't say? A Popo Bawa, huh?" The djinni set his fingers against the delicate curl of his chin, eyes trained toward the ground in contemplation. "Can't say I saw that coming."

"It's quite a tangled web." The exorcist agreed. "What I can say for certain is that this creature is causing Mitkiel a great deal of grief. Trouble enough that he came crying to His Majesty Enma for assistance. This Popo Bawa is something of a fanatic. Just as some religious fanatics will kill and enact devastating atrocities in the name of God, it seems this creature is committing punishments in Mitkiel's name."

"And let me guess;" Ichibana began with a knowing roll of his eyes. "Mitkiel, being the proud demon, doesn't like any lower level entity using his name and enforcing his methods to instigate his own brand of power?"

"Exactly. Those demons are a complicated lot."

Ichibana bit back what he felt was a well deserved comment about how women were equally convoluted creatures themselves but figured that little barb was best left for a less serious conversation. He went with his second thought instead. "Well you knew what you were getting into when you chose to specialize in them."

Kira laughed, the effect making her seem that little bit more feminine in retrospect. Only when she was genuinely happy could an outsider beget the woman that hid beneath this clever guise of masculine surliness. "Yes, I suppose that I did. You are a complex lot, though you are certainly… _intriguing _in your own way."

Ichibana felt that there was an intentional nuance in the girls words and pounced on it as a hungry feline cages a nimble bird between its claws. An opportunity to rekindle a residual spark was certainly too enchanting an offer to allow to pass by the wayside without the slightest bit of attention.

"Is that why you helped me out back there? Do you still find yourself… _intrigued?_"

Though Ichibana had always preferred men to women, he knew that if he were to ever settle down in his ways, Kira would be the one that he would choose to 'goody two shoes' around with. He would always desire to play the field, that was the nature of the beast but he always counted Kira as his number one girl and had unashamedly told her as much.

The exorcist look unaccountably tired, simply considering what Ichibana was suggesting. She dropped the cigarette against the wet cement and ground her sensible, flat heeled black shoes into the burning ember until it was completely extinguished. Ichibana wondered if she was simultaneously making a metaphorical point.

"Now let's not go involving ourselves in that sordid process again, djinni." She groaned, brushing frequently gnawed upon nails back through her increasingly dampening head of hair. That light drizzle still fell upon Kyoto. "It's simply tiresome being with someone who is too mysterious for comfort."

Ichibana laughed at this. "Baby, _you're _the mysterious one. You become more mysterious to those around you with every passing moment."

The djinni made a valid point and Kira had to admit it. "True. But at least you knew what I was about. You made me question my sexuality… male body or no. Plus, I would always question your whereabouts if not directly to your face. You've always been a fun loving guy Ichibana. … And from what I gather you've recently had just a little too much fun. Loving." She indicated the djinni's still flat, non-showing belly but the point was distressingly clear. She'd heard enough of his and Oriya's discussion to know that the djinni might have been expecting in the near future. Ichibana frowned, not appreciating the shoe now that it was squarely on the other foot.

"Ha ha, _hardy-ha_. Now who's being a smart ass?"

"Well it's not as though you don't deserve it." Kira said fairly, gesturing back to Fujisawa who still appeared quite absorbed in examining the djinni from all angles. Ichibana wondered if he was counting his eyelashes. "The boy here spoke to your boss in the club and confirmed what we've known for some time. That blond bimbo has barely scraped the surface of this investigation."

Ichibana felt just a bit of raw anger seep into his mood and realized with no small amount of shame, that it was a defensive impulse. "Hey! I happen to be rather fond of that blond bimbo, missy."

Kira held up her hands, indicating that she meant no great offense in her interpretation of Watari.** "**Well I'm sorry but you must confess; he hasn't made great headway in regards to this case."

"He has his reasons." Ichibana stated wondering why he felt this sudden overpowering need to stand up for the man that had kept him bonded for the better part of fourteen long years. "There's a significant factor that is impacting his progress. Call it emotional baggage."

Kira mused on this, clearly not finding it an acceptable means to delay an investigation progress. Sometimes she was so strong, she completely fell out of touch with what it was like to feel weakness. "Hmm… incidentally, I have some information that I might ask that you pass on for me. Fujisawa and I infiltrated the coroners department, where the bodies of the deceased girls were being stored until appropriate funeral arrangements had been made. The first two females had been removed by their families but the third, the orphan girl, had remained there until a living relative might have been contacted. Imagine our surprise when we removed the body in order to examine the wounds first hand, only to find that it was _not _the recorded dead girls face that we were confronted with, but the face of the one reportedly institutionalized at the hospital."

Ichibana literally felt his features freeze over with shock. An odd sensation, particularly since this information should not have impacted his emotions to the degree that it did. This was Watari's concern, not his. "Ye mean… the girl that supposedly survived… is now dead?"

"According to the information we gathered in our brief examination of the corpse, we estimate that this girl – Kiekemi wasn't it?" She glanced back to Fujisawa for confirmation and received his nod of approval. "Has been deceased for a little over a week now."

"The same date as the killings within Kokakuro…" Ichibana confirmed, mentally counting back in his mind. A thought came to him. "But then, what of the girl within the hospital?"

"Naturally that was our next point of call. We arrived at the hospital to find the bed empty. Apparently the girls father came to get her. They checked out early this morning."

"Not a bad cover story…" Ichibana admitted. He didn't have to like it but how could you argue the clarity of that?

Kira shook her head fiercely, her face taking on that distinctive hard edge it always acquired when she was figuring something out. "Quite so. If not for the fact that we extensively covered this Kiekemi's family background. Her only living relative is a younger female cousin currently living in Takamatsu. We found her father's name on the List of the Deceased. He was killed in a boating accident when the girl was barely five years of age. Her mother died in childbirth. The man that retrieved her from the hospital was certainly not Kiekemi's father because the girl that was hospitalized a week ago was not Kiekemi at all."

"This girl was never intended to die… her neck was not gashed like the other girls…" Ichibana pondered over as much of the case specifics as he knew of it and nothing appeared to hold true to what they had thus learnt. The entire investigation appeared to crumble the more Kira revealed of it. And then a brilliant, wonderful, _fantastic _thought came to mind. "But if she wasn't Kiekemi… and Kiekemi is actually being held in the morgue… there's only one person that girl could be…"

"Yes." Kira said, nodding. "The other blond one; Seki."

This was great news to Ichibana and he knew Watari would be even more substantially enamored of it but there were still a number of things that didn't make sense here. "But how was her identity hidden for such a sustained period of time?"

It was Fujisawa he answered him this time. Apparently he had grown bored with just standing back out of the way. "The girl has been in a coma for a week, only awakening for very brief periods. She was in and out of consciousness like a light. And the guy we're dealin' with is a mimic. It only stands to reason that he might have thrown a Mask across the girl, making her appearance that of Kiekemi's until such a time that her body was repaired enough that she might be…" He trailed off here, either feeling as though he had said too much, or perhaps having nothing more to say at all.

Ichibana pushed for the option that he might have a more extensive interpretation to share. This was important to Watari and owing to his contract, it was as such important to Ichibana too. "'_Might be_…' what exactly?"

The boy shrugged carelessly, though it was not from lack of concern but alternatively his lack of extended knowledge on the subject itself. "Who can say? I know even less about how demons operate than you guys do. This is still all rather new to me."

"Right, right, of course." Ichibana immediately felt a little bad for landing the pressure on him, especially so soon after his death and he backed right off, directing his questions toward Kira again."Listen, have you guys checked the List of the Deceased for Seki's name?"

Kira seemed a little offended that Ichibana had questioned their responsibilities in adhering to what was a standard procedure at the outset of a typical murder investigation but bit her tongue in order to prevent herself from responding with something crass. "Yutaka Watari was sent to investigate the Kokakuro because there was the possibility of demonic interference. Now that it has been confirmed I have been sent in to personally deal with the involved supernatural parties. As for the List of the Deceased well… what the Summons Section failed to mention was that this Seki's spirit is acting rather… well erratically."

"'Erratically' meaning…?" Ichibana pursued.

"Well, it is recorded as being missing but now we know that's not the case, as she is not deceased at all. However, on occasion her name has flashed on and off of the List of the Deceased. It's as though she is passing between life and death…"

"Great." Ichibana muttered, looking sidelong towards the wall on his right. It subjected him to the apathetic stare of the inanimate. "I don't know if that's going to make blondie feel any better…"

"Beg your pardon?" Kira inquired, slouching her head side long in order to gain his attention. Ichibana immediately brought his head back up, smiling that big fake grin he often enforced when attempting to conceal an unattractive emotion.

"Oh nothing… look, it's been lovely catching up but I've _really _gotta get this shit out of sight."

"Do you require assistance?" The exorcist was already rolling up her sleeves, behaving as though the prospect of physically handling these mutilated carcasses was all in days work. Ichibana held up his hands, warding her offer from enacting itself.

"From you? Ease up there little darlin', no point in worrying your pretty little head about it. This ain't a job for a lady. Even a lady who looks like a man." He established with his trademark teasing smile that had made him renowned on precisely three continents to date.

Kira stared at him, possibly trying to decide whether it was worth slamming her knee into his groin. But hey, she was used to it. You couldn't expect anything less from someone you had grown up with. Even if you had grown up together intending to kill one another at every available turn. "That was… almost charming." She finally decided.

"It's what I'm famous for." The djinni's smile never faltered. Kira chuckled softly, bringing her sleeves back down to align atop her delicate wrists. She snapped the cuff buttons back into place, securing herself back within her safe male façade. It was almost a shame, the djinni thought forlornly.

"Well, that's fine with me. Fujisawa and I have to be getting along, we're due for direct contact with Mitkiel at daybreak and god knows the boy here is eager to take to Prince Eurynomous' heels." Fujisawa scuffed the ground with his feet like a bull preparing to charge. Ichibana appreciated his wit at such a dangerous prospect but felt the edge of concern slide insidiously into the pit of his belly.

"Yer gonna speak with Mitkiel?" He asked Kira's impassive features. The exorcist didn't appear the least bit concerned.

"Yes. Rest assured, I won't say a word to him of your involvement."

"Oh, I believe Eurynomous will take care of that." The djinni established sullenly. "_You_ just be careful, all right? That guy has a foul mind and a taste for a pretty face."

"I'll keep that in mind. Though I hear that demon prefers men to women so perhaps it is Fujisawa that had best watch his rear?" Kira smirked over one shoulder and couldn't help but laugh at the scowling vision that had become of her young protégé, the implication of her words having not been lost on him.

A remaining errand came to the forefront of the exorcists mind and she figured it best dealt with while she had a confidant of Yutaka Watari's in her presence. His Majesty had firmly deigned that it wait not a second to be delivered, these words of his…

"Oh and Ichibana; Watari has Fujisawa's contact details but he's not yet aware that he and I are acting agents in the investigation so do me a favor and clue him in as soon as you have the chance to do so. We'll be stopping in at Kokakuro tomorrow, to fill him in on and the details and we'll discuss whatever we can confirm with Mitkiel at tomorrow mornings meeting."

"I'll make sure he gets the message." Ichibana sighed and flashed a genuine smile. He felt purely happy for what he would be telling Watari in the morning. It was nice to be the bearer of good news every once in a while. "There's a lot you've said already that is going to make a world of difference to him, you know."

"In addition, I have a message from His Majesty Enma himself." Moving right along to her unhappy errand. Not unhappy particularly to her mind but it was surely going to cause some negative feelings once the required demands had been set in place.

"Right, let's have it."

Kira's voice took on a professional tone that didn't even sound like her own. It was firm and authoritative, no trace of humor detectible within her slightly husky pitch. "For his illegal dalliances with one of the True Life's Enma is issuing Yutaka Watari an official warning. He is to annul all current intimate arrangements with the client Oriya Mibu or disciplinary action will be taken in order to correct his behavior."

Ah… so this _wasn't _going to be the exclusively happy chat Ichibana was anticipating. The djinni could sense some gigantic hissy throwing fits in the imminently near future. "I hardly think the threat of disciplinary action is enough to make Watari back off, missy." He thought again of Oriya's indisputably beautiful features, the five percent body fat, the gentlemanly disposition and the tightest butt this side of Japan. … Nope. The threat of _thumbscrews_ wasn't likely to force Yutaka Watari to fax Oriya his marching papers and an issued verbal warning was definitely not going to have an effect on his lust addled half-brain.

Kira gave Ichibana a very scolding look. "It's not as light hearted as it may sound, Ichibana. Should the warning fail to make a difference, Yutaka Watari faces unspecified suspension from the Summons Section."

"With pay?" The djinni asked hopefully. Kira rolled her eyes, realizing that this wasn't having the intended effect it was supposed to. Perhaps Yutaka Watari would be more receptive than his servant, though the impression that she had received from others suggested that Watari was a man who did what he liked regardless of what anyone else thought. He even tested his obscure chemical remedies out on his coworkers, for gods sake!

"No he does not receive pay and he might be stripped of his title as a Guardian of Death."

Ichibana wrinkled his nose sympathetically. "Damn that's mean. But it's weird, I've never known Enma to take such interest in the romantic affairs of the guardians before."

Kira secretly thought the same, though it wasn't really of great interest to her so she didn't see fit to mention it. "Those guardians of death…" She mused, voice thoughtful. "Would it not be easier for them to simply keep it in the office?"

"… Yeah. An office romance _would _be less complicated." Ichibana said sarcastically. But thinking about the Summons Section office made him consider something that he had been terribly remiss of before. "Hey, wait a minute… How did Enma even _know _that Watari was having it off with the spunky guy?"

"You know, I'm actually stuck for that myself." The exorcist admitted, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. "It was strange; when he called me in to speak of that matter, he appeared to have a disturbingly intimate knowledge of what had passed between them."

"… _How _intimate?" Ichibana asked, feeling suddenly worried and even a little embarrassed for his two humans. Kira's slightly curled lip was enough of an indication as to how in depth Enma's description had been at the time. She had never been much for blushing and when she was embarrassed, Kira would express it by either biting her lip, or curling it upward slightly.

"Intimate enough to make me feel inclined to leave the room."

"That bad, eh?" Ichibana groaned, wondering just how on earth he was supposed to broach this topic with Watari after the night he'd had "…But how could he possibly know that…? I know he has camera's all over the Summons Section… He didn't get you guys ta bug Kokakuro did he? Not that I mind an audience myself but come on! Is a little privacy in a brothel too much to ask for?"

"Don't look at us." Kira said, shrugging her shoulders laboriously. "Besides the depth of His Majesty's knowledge into the affairs of the blond were such that I doubt he would be able to ascribe the delicate sensations to memory simply from viewing a video tape." She stinted on this a while but seemed to come up with nothing satisfactory in order to explain it. "I don't know."

Ichibana tried to squeeze as much from her as possible. Watari would want to know every itsy bitsy tiny detail if he was supposed to break up with Oriya because of it. "He didn't say a word to you of his decision?"

Now it was Kira's turn to be sarcastic. "Oh yes. We discussed it heartily during one of our annual pajama parties. Then we braided one another's hair and had a pillow fight." She threw her fists down in a childish gesture. just to indicate how pointless and asinine Ichibana's question had been. "Exactly how chummy do you take His Majesty and I to be?"

"Well… chummier than most…" Ichibana's thoughts then went off in their usual perverted direction and he broke the thread of the conversation just long enough to ask an informed question. "Is he still as handsome as ever?"

"… Oh, I don't know… who can say?" Kira said, shrugging. She was never very good at these sorts of matters, being even less of a girly-girl than Ichibana. The djinni stole a glance towards Fujisawa who confirmed his question by mouthing 'Oh yeah' and exhaling dramatically whilst fanning his face. Yes, Enma was still a pretty face. What you got to see of it anyway.

It was a nice distraction but Ichibana's thoughts came back to Watari again and he felt that cold wave of remorse steal over him.

"Damn, what a thing to dump on a guy." He groaned, running a hand back through his hair. "Poor bubble-brain… he's not gonna know which way to yank his face."

Ichibana's original language had been German, so Kira simply presumed that something had been lost in translation with this saying. She'd certainly never heard it before herself.

"Well, it's to be expected when a Guardian gets involved with a human. It's only likely to end in heartbreak." She was expectantly frank but then again, she had to be. Her job and lifestyle provided that she be realistic, in all manner of applications.

"To be expected, eh?" Ichibana repeated. The conversation was souring and he didn't wish to part with Kira on such terms, so he altered the course of their exchange slightly. "But hey, on a higher note, how's the little belle goin'? Single parenting suitin' ya?"

It was a generally accepted fact that Guardians of Death, in particular _male _Guardians of Death, were not equipped with the same sexual reproductive functions that they possessed in life. Though everything still worked adequately in regards to sex, conception was impossible, the sperm born through the ejaculation process entering the body already dead, much like the Guardian of Death from which they came. Female Guardians were slightly different in that they still possessed a completely functional reproductive system. They still underwent a menstruation cycle and continued to produce healthy eggs, that were capable of being fertilized by the male seed should the female Guardian engage in a sex act whilst she was ovulating. Dating humans was not so much forbidden as it was a faux pas and even now, there had been no female Guardian of Death impregnated whilst serving within the Ministry of Hades. Except for Kira. Who had had a little _accident _as she so tactfully chose to phrase it. Enma had wanted the pregnancy aborted, fearing that anything born from the union of a Live One and a Guardian of Death could only be devastating but Kira had pleaded a favor in keeping the baby. Because she was one of Enma's favorites, she was allowed to go through with the pregnancy. That had been nearly eleven months ago. Ichibana knew that she had gone off on a mission to some Catholic School where a demon was at large during the first term of her pregnancy and greatly disapproved of her taking that risk. Such was her profound ability however, that Kira had been able to continue working with her usual skill and finesse and still keep her baby protected from the dangers presented during the job.

The demon exorcist nodded, a faint flicker of fondness twisting her lips upward. She was a good mother and she loved her son infinitely.** "**Fine, fine. Some days are harder than most. Not to mention it's a bastard trying to find a good babysitter in my line of business."

It was a good chance to gauge her current relationship status and Ichibana didn't hold back. "What? The guy who knocked you up too busy shoveling fries ta lend a hand?" 

Kira shot him an unappreciative look and stuck her tongue out.** "**Not that it's any of _your_ business anymore but I haven't had anything to do with that man since Akiru's birth. I decided to raise him on my own and I'm totally fine with that."

Ichibana smiled, pleased beyond his ability to adequately voice it. "Well… you learn somethin' new everyday."

The moment between them was courteously broken by Fujisawa clearing his throat. Ichibana couldn't blame him for being bored but couldn't the kid see how important it was for him to firmly establish his interest in getting back into the demon exorcists man pants?

"Kira? Hate ta rush ya but… we really should get going."

Kira nodded, appearing none the bit disappointed by her young partners intrusion. Ichibana wondered if her hormones were as badly repressed as- … well no, that was a lie. Ichibana never _let _his hormones get repressed. That was just unhealthy. Just _look _at what it had done to Oriya. "Yes, of course. Be with you in just a moment." She turned back to Ichibana, fixing him with a stern glare, discouraging his continued advancements. "Do let Watari know what I have told you tonight. And don't go forgetting Enma's directive either. It's vitally important that the message reaches Watari's ears."

The djinni made an ok sign with his fingers, trying not to think about how much he wished that the two of them were alone, so that he could press that slender body against the nearest wall and rip those distressingly masculine pants down around Kira's ankles. But he had learnt from experience that should he have ever implemented his hormones when she wasn't in the right mood, he would earn a very hard smack around the head with the flat end of her artsy demon fighting sword. Best restrain himself and hope that she might come back to him when and if she was ready and willing.

"I hear ya, honey. You be sure ta take care of yerself." They were old friends, so it was okay that he take her hands in his own and plant a light kiss against her cheek. That was not imposing himself and she knew that, so he was not rewarded with a box about the ears for which he was always grateful to avoid after conversing with women.

"You too. I shall see you tomorrow." The demon exorcist turned without further ado and walked with Fujisawa towards the head of the alleyway. It was such an abrupt and unsatisfactory way to end things that Ichibana felt it his duty to set the mood back to rights again.

"Hey Kira?" He called tentatively.

The blonde turned her head, her expression expectant of what she undoubtedly knew was coming her way. "Yes?"

The djinni leered suggestively and brought one heavily mascared eye down in a heavily laden wink of insinuation. "Baby or no baby, your ass has never looked better."

It worked a treat, bringing out that warm humor very rarely present in Kira's face and making everything seem a little less grim in comparison. Her intrinsic response was simply to grin and stick her middle finger up over her shoulder as she and the young pervert disappeared into the lights from the highway.

It had been a long evening with plenty of food for thought but Ichibana didn't waste a further second in fruitless contemplation. That could wait until later, when there _weren't _five heavily mutilated bodies to subtly dispose of.

The night loomed large before him with the end a fleeting shadow receding into the distance.

It was time to work.

**Oriya**

I pulled in at Kokakuro and parked the bike back in the garage, where I was certain I had left it chained up previously. It was then that Yutaka finally stirred and I almost dropped him, the degree of his revival being so alarming. He shrieked loudly and thrashed in my hold, crying out when he registered the pain from his various afflictions. Tightening my grip just enough to render him still, I rushed up into the entrance hall, liberally bouncing free of my clogs and leaving them spread-eagled on the stoop. Yutaka was sobbing loudly enough to wake the household and I was forced to smother his cries with my hand.

"Yutaka, calm down! Everything's fine now, we're home. You're safe. Easy now."

I carried the guardian into the closest living area, seating myself down on the floor and nursing him against my body, rocking him back and forth until the sobbing ceased. When I was sure that he was calm, I moved my hand away from his mouth and instead used that hand to brush his bangs back off of his tender face.

"Oriya…" His accented voice was raspy, damage having been done unto his throat. "Oriya I…" His face crumpled and tears started running down his poor beaten cheeks. I held him affectionately, clinching his body against mine and soothing him with hushed susurrations.

"We should go get you cleaned up, honey. You're in a pretty bad way." I said, forcing my own weary body back to its feet. I carried the blond back through the entrance hall, walking past the locked doorways to where the murders had occurred and heading for my bedroom. Yutaka clung to me tightly as I made my way into the bathroom and when I sat him down on the closed toilet seat and told him to wait whilst I went to get his pajama's together, he sank his battered face down into his hands and sobbed helplessly, legs coiling up tightly against his body. I felt my own eyes turn to water at the pathetic sight of this cheerful and confident man being reduced to the state of a frightened child.

"I'm only going to the next room to get your pajama's, Yutaka. I'll only be gone a moment. Be brave. Nothing else is going to hurt you, I promise."

I pulled myself away from him and made my way out of my room and back into the hallway proper, turning right to follow the wall into the guest bedroom. The Gushoushin was still sleeping but 003 was nowhere in sight. I didn't dwell on this for long and set to work searching through the guardians bag of belongings, pushing aside bundles of clothes and underwear – most of the g-strings getting tangled around my fingers in the process. As I struggled to unhook several that had somehow managed to knot themselves together, something stirred behind me and I heard a gasped exclamation.

"Mr. Mibu!"

I glanced over my shoulder, lace and string dangling from my hands and an unintentional expression of guilt dawning across my features.

"It's not how it looks." I said stupidly. The Gushoushin just gave me one of those looks that are easy to interpret, difficult to describe. Basically it suggested that a lawsuit was impending.

The fowl floated up off of his futon, stubby arms crossed over his chest. "Mr. Mibu, if you were that keen to admire Mr. Watari's underwear, you could have just asked. I'm sure he would have been more than happy to lend you a pair or two."

I waved my hand around erratically, trying to free the thongs from my fingers. They snapped to and fro, battering at the back of my hand but remained firmly tangled together. I could only imagine how bad this looked.

"Yutaka… he had a little accident while out on duty tonight." I explained, reaching out into the bag with my unoccupied hand and sifting through the clothing, seeking out anything that might have resembled pajamas. "He needs some help getting washed and changed tonight. I just came in to get him some clean clothes and underwear. … I'm really not a pervert."

The Gushoshin continued to stare at me, scrutinizing my expression with its own keen glare. It took him a minute or so of silent introspection but it seemed that he ultimately decided to trust my words, because he pointed with one feathered finger towards Yutaka's neatly made futon.

"He keeps his pajama's under the pillow. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and let you take the underwear but I'll be checking with Mr. Watari in the morning, just so you know. Don't make me regret it, Mr. Mibu."

"I assure you that my intentions this night are nothing if not noble." I assured him, wishing I could apply this to the last few days of outright deception I had embarked upon, just to ensure that Muraki wouldn't raise his hand to harm another person. "If you do not believe me, then go check on him yourself. He is in my bathroom, in a terrible state of affairs."

The Gushoshin gave a brief nod and then floated over towards the doorway. "Not meaning to be rude, Mr. Mibu but I believe I will go and check on him, just to be sure. I must keep well informed of my partners' condition. Feel free to continue your… em, _foraging _in the meantime."

I scoffed, insulted that I might be placed on the same perverted level as Muraki. Just goes to show; you can be judged by those you associate with. This left me with a great deal to work with, considering whom my current company was. No offense Muraki but you've got to admit, you're not the most positive person to assort with.

I rustled under Yutaka's pillow and pulled out the neatly folded clothing he had tucked beneath. A blue pair of baggy pajama pants with drawstring, quite conservative if you didn't take into account the two paw prints located on the back, allocated to a buttock respectively. The top was a black high-necked pullover with the quotation; "_I had a nightmare, I dreamt I was a brunette" _written across the chest area. I stifled a snicker. Considering that this was coming from a man whom openly confessed that dark haired men were his type, it was kind of cheeky. Cheeky… but cute. I had to admit, his attitude appealed to me.

I gathered the pajama's up and selected one of the more conservative pieces of underwear that was still sanctioned about my fingers. As I was extricating the last few thongs and replacing all the clothing neatly back in the suitcase, the Gushoshin came floating back in, his expression grim.

"His injuries… they are residual. That's uncommon for a Guardian. What exactly happened?" He asked me, in a low, serious tone of voice. It felt very strange, this tenor being directed at me from a creature that resembled your average, run of the mill garden capon. Granted this was an average, run of the mill garden capon with all the functioning capacity of a human being and more so.

I wasn't informed enough to explain the situation in length, I figured that was best left to Yutaka when he was in a better frame of mind. So I simplified it as much as possible.

"A group of men, being orchestrated by a demon… took issue with him." I sounded very stereotypical country, even to my own ears. When my speech took this pattern, it made me realize just how far removed from Tokyo I had become; how much more of a Kyoto boy I was now. "He can explain it to you better in the mornin'. But I think it best that I tend to him now."

He looked a little unsure about placing Yutaka in my care, the Gushoshin. "Well… you're right about that, Mr. Mibu, that's for sure. Will you be putting him to bed here?"

I thought on this. "I… figured that it would be best if I remained with him. Moving him about a great deal might aggravate the injuries. If you approve, I thought I might just set him to rights in my bed for the night. My attentions being nothing but to sleep by his side of course." I dipped my head downward, feeling that respect was due. The pullet responded favorably and though he didn't seem happy about any aspect of these developing events, it appeared that he possessed enough faith in me to entrust Yutaka to my custody.

"He is in your hands then. There is little I could do to alter the turn of events, anyhow." The blue clad fowl sank down into his pillow and hefted a deep weary sigh. "This is one of the many reasons it is dangerous for Mr. Watari to embark on a field mission. He has not been specifically trained to handle confrontational situations. And on top of that, he has no partner on which to rely!"

I nodded, climbing to my feet and clutching the accumulated clothing against my chest. "He does seem to take unprecedented risks. I did advise him against going out tonight… well, demanded really. I just… didn't realize that a Guardian of Death could be so… fragile."

"I've never seen Mr. Watari in such a state before…" The Gushoshin mused, eyes downcast. "Please Mr. Mibu just… do your best for him. There's little assistance that I can provide in this sort of situation."

"I will." I said, making my way back over to the doorway, anxious to get back to Yutaka. "You can rely on me, Mr. Gushoshin."

The fowl nodded, some semblance of a smile stretching outwards across his beak. "I knew that I could."

He didn't elaborate on his subtle insinuation but I caught his meaning anyway. He could trust me, he meant, because he knew how I felt about Yutaka. Which was quite an assumption to make, considering that I wasn't a hundred percent certain on those feelings myself. I was very fond of him, that much I could affirm without fear of later contradiction. And I was attracted to him; physically, emotionally and mentally. I had connected with him on a level that I had with no other person I had ever known. His mind was fascinating to me, his kindness sensual and heartwarming.

I left the Gushoshin to whatever assumptions he had made and returned to the bathroom in my room, turning on the shower just as soon as I had stepped inside. I adjusted the temperature so that the water was only luke warm, knowing well that the showering process was bound to be painful and hot water would only aggravate the wounds. Once there was a steady stream beating against the porcelain floor, I set the pajama's down and knelt before Yutaka, grasping his wrists in my hands and gently pulling his palms away from his face. His eyes were blank, like an empty void, the same kind of expression worn by those that have been subject to trauma. One side of his face was so swollen; I doubted that he was able to see out of it.

"I've got to get you cleaned up." I told him, taking his shoulders and gently pulling him into a standing position. He whimpered softly but managed a small nod, hissing at the pain that even this minute action caused. I reached back and pulled the hair band free, allowing the bloodied and vomit strewn locks to fall free down the length of his back. He removed his own glasses and reached out to set them on the sink, his arm fussing about in mid-air as he attempted to gauge the distance. He was still incredibly out of it, his actions trancelike, as though he had induced a powerful hallucinogenic. I relieved him of what had become a tiresome burden, placing the glasses aside and then reaching out and setting my hands on the upper layer yukata that he still held tightly about his slender body.

"I'm going to undress you now," I said slowly, making sure to keep my voice even and gentle. Considering the degradation he had just endured at the hands of those cretins in the alleyway, I wanted to ensure that he felt both safe and comfortable in my touching him and removing his garments. This was certainly not something that could be easily orchestrated without some residual feelings of fear and it would have broken my heart if I thought for one moment that Yutaka might have shrunk from my hands with tears and protest.

But he did not cry out and resist the process. With a simple nod, he shrugged free the yukata, allowing it to pool in wrinkled folds around his booted feet.

"Okay…" He said, his voice straining to be heard above the limitations placed against it by the bruising about his throat. "…gentle… it hurts… k?"

"All right, honey." I assured him as I clutched the lapels of his jacket and pulled it backwards to follow the line of his arms downwards. He slumped suddenly and I snapped one arm around his lower back, pulling his limp body against me. I couldn't trust him to stand without support, so physically weak he had become.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, clutching at my upper arms with his broken fingers, sinking his face into the crook of my neck. The heat of his injuries radiated against my flesh as though they burnt alive with a very real fire. "… don't think my legs… can hold me… sorry…"

"Oh… that's fine, sweetheart." I said, stroking his hair back in order to soothe his weary features. My heart verily ached for him, for this strange, sweet guardian of death. "I'll take care of you. Just relax your arms back. That's it… there you go…"

I pried the jacket free from his upper body and shoved it aside, wincing in sympathy at the black and purple bruises already beginning to well on his now exposed arms. There was a strange peppering of scar tissue welling from the joint of his left elbow but I dismissed this as residual damage from the previous beating and gave it not a second thought. I worked on his t-shirt next, slowly pulling it up over his chest and working his head out from the turtleneck. His hair flopped back down over his shoulders, trailing in waves onto his chest and down the line of his spine. Under different circumstances, I would have allowed myself to enjoy the appealing imagery. Yutaka possessed quite a comely swimmers build and though he was not what you might call toned; he was proportioned just adequately enough to still appear masculine. Sex starved as I was, my hormones weren't difficult to ignite and Yutaka positively delighted my senses. Even witnessing him in such a vulnerable state as this! I couldn't deny, terrible though it was, that there was something undeniably appealing about it.

I forced these feelings back, understanding full well that they were inappropriate to entertain when Yutaka was defenseless like this. Concentrating entirely on the task, I lowered my hands to unbuckle the front of his pants, urging him back to seat himself on the toilet when I had worked the trousers down past his bottom. Removing his boots enabled me to pull the tight navy blue pants off, until he sat before me, kept modest only by the skimpy black and red thong sanctioned crookedly about his hips. I hooked my fingers under the thin straps, smiling unconsciously when I thought back to the incident in the bedroom only minutes beforehand. I probably wouldn't be able to look the Gushoushin in the eye from here on in.

"Lift your bottom, Yutaka." I urged, going so far as to wrap my arm about his bare midsection, hefting him upward just enough to create some space between the flesh of his buttocks and the toilet seat. Yutaka tilted his head forward, groaning softly as I removed the thong and set it aside, intending to have all of his clothes washed when available time presented itself. My eyes inadvertently scanned the guardians' body. He really was lovely to look at. Not universally sculptured but rounded in all the right places and rather sensuous in his naturalness. His neck was especially pleasing. I hadn't had many opportunities to enjoy the sight of it, Yutaka most often opting to hide it beneath high-necked shirts. It was a shame really. It was so long and slender, that feminine sway from the line of his hair downward, to the pale arch of his throat… I allowed myself a small luxury in a brief visualization of how it might feel to trail my lips up and down along his neck. It was erotic and mildly satisfying, just enough to speed up my breathing pattern substantially. I found myself reaching out, just meaning to stroke my fingers down along either side of the guardians bruised throat and was immediately refuted midway by Yutaka's shaking hand, battering uselessly at my wrist.

"No…" He groaned, managing to curl his fingers around my own and forcing them away from his neck. "… don't… I can't…" He trailed off, leaning forward to press his forehead against my cheek, his palm falling against the wall of my chest. "Please…"

My eyes dropped down to follow the line of his back and I moaned sympathetically at the various cuts and bruises adorning his body – the grime clinging to his pale skin, the patches of flesh that were completely rubbed raw.

Yutaka leaned forward dramatically and I helped him stand up, bringing his body in close against mine so that his weight was effectively stationed. We moved towards the shower and I realized only then, that he was not going to be able to stand up on his own. I would have to get in with him. If it were a bath, I could have sat him in it and remained outside of the tub but in doing this, Yutaka would be forced to bathe in his own filth and the idea of him marinating in the water like a disturbing broth was enough to make me cringe. A shower it had to be. All the blood, flesh and grime would be washed away.

I held Yutaka steady with one arm, alternating each hand in order to strip my own clothes off. Once I was naked, I steered him into the shower, sliding the door shut behind us and submerging his body beneath the warm stream of water. I winced understandingly as the blond cried out in pain. The pounding water must have caused his assorted injuries to sting maddeningly. I apologized continuously as I held him in place, using a sponge to clean the dried patches of blood from his skin. The water in the base of the shower turned a light shade of pink, swirling about our bare feet and then sliding down into the darkness of the drain. Yutaka tilted forward, pressing his forehead against the tiled wall of the shower and bracing his arms on either side of his head. He sobbed softly, staring down to follow the waters movement into the plughole. His crying slowly ceased and was replaced instead with a contemplative silence.

"_Where would you go… where sin's washed away…_" He murmured thoughtfully, his words making no sense to me but keeping him calm at the very least. I ran the sponge down along the line of his back, being careful not to press too hard against his bruises. I groped about on the shower rack, eventually coming across a bar of soap suitable for sensitive skin. Starting from the back of his neck I scrubbed away the dirty footprint one of Yutaka's assailants had left and worked my way down soaping then rinsing the guardians pale skin. He stood beneath the nozzle, entirely still throughout the whole sorry process. It took a little over ten minutes to work free the majority of dried blood and grime from his back, legs and bottom. His tan lines were now exposed, making him seem more real to me, more vulnerable even and somehow, more human. A triangle of pale flesh against his buttocks suggested his normality, a man who liked to laze in the sun. Someone who was not too far removed from me.

"Oriya…?" His voice was so soft; I had to dip my chin over his shoulder in order to hear it. "Does every room… in Kokakuro… have a…a bathroom …?"

I didn't understand where this was leading to but I supposed it contributed to keeping Yutaka's temperament level, which was more important than anything right now. I caressed the back of his neck, consciously separating the lower halves of our bodies to prevent any inappropriate reactions that might have unintentionally occurred as a result of any accidental contact.

"Yes. Each room has an adjoining ensuite." I told him, running my hands up into his long head of hair, feeling out the dried clumps of blood and working them out as best I could. "Why should this matter? You do realize you have your own bathroom, right?"

Yutaka took a deep breath and it was clearly a trial effort to speak at great length, though he pushed himself forwards anyway.

"Even room where murders…" His voice not so much fell as oozed out from his bruised and split lips. I forced him to stand upright, bringing his head underneath the nozzle so I could dampen his hair.

"Yes, even there, Yutaka. And if you think it's important, we'll have a look in there tomorrow, when you're hopefully feeling better. Right now, you need to let me take care of you. Okay?"

He nodded but didn't seem happy about the delay. Honestly, if this did indeed contribute towards solving the case, I was just as eager to investigate as he was. But Yutaka's condition required immediate attention and there wasn't much that could have been done to swiftly remedy it. Whatever thoughts he was having, would just need to be put on hold.

I turned him gently, lifting his chin so that his face was opened to the stream of water. He cried out in pain and wrenched out of my hold, trying to retreat back into the corner. I slung my arms around his body and pulled him back against me, flinching inwardly at how compromising this could possibly be. Yutaka made a deep sound in his throat and it took me a moment to realize that he was chuckling.

"… to think… I finally get a chance… ta see you naked and it's under these… circumstances…" He giggled low and deep, the back of his head pressed against the wall of my chest, the water pounding down against the willowy arch of his neck. The dried blood liquidized and ran red trails across his chest, along the contours of his curved stomach and into the lines of his loins…

I worked Yutaka around so that we faced one another again. Using the tip of a washcloth that had been hanging from the shower rack, I gently worked damp circles over the facial injuries, removing the blood inch by bare inch. Yutaka leaned into my touch, his knees bent and body curved in against the line of my own. It was entirely possible to have become aroused by the contact established between us and I'll admit, even with my noble state of mind this was an issue to be concerned with. His vulnerability, his helplessness… the way he was now entirely dependent on me. There was something in this tragedy that had bought out an aspect of Yutaka that I had longed to find in any one of my previous relationships. My heart hurt, my heart swelled. I felt awful, I felt wonderful. Perpetually poised between Heaven and Hell. Trapped in Purgatory. The ghost of Kokakuro, Oriya Mibu. That was me and I was he. A man who was good, a man who was bad. A hundred shades of gray.

"Hey Oriya…?" I broke free of my morose thoughts and gazed down at the blond, his eyes shut against the spray of the water. "Can… can you… carry a tune?"

I raised an eyebrow, amused by the nature of this question. "Not in a wheelbarrow, I'm afraid. Why?"

"Tch. Guess no one's perfect." Yutaka chuckled lightly, bringing his hands up to clutch my upper arms, stationing his balance. "I just… just wanted ta… ta hear our song. Make me… feel better."

"Our song?" I thought back to a little over a week ago, when my knee had been injured and the two of us had been groping around in the sitting room like crazed teenagers experimenting in the basement. The radio had been playing that English song… Yutaka had confessed his fondness of it and seemed to have decided that it was to be _our _song. I was kind of touched by this, impetuous thought it was. "I remember how it goes… my voice is horrible though."

He rested his cheek against my chest, fingers clenching my bicep muscles respectively. "As long as it's your voice… as long as you're singing it… it's beautiful. Could ya sing it… for me? Just like we used to…"

I didn't question who _'we'_ was. I instead put my mind back to that night, recalling the words that we had analyzed until we were blue in the face. I hated singing under normal circumstances, which is ironic considering that one of my sisters is a famous singer. She must have inherited all the talent in our family because not a one of us besides her could sing to save ourselves. But how could I refuse after he had phrased his request in such an endearing fashion?

I cleared my throat, attention somewhat divided between the various tasks I was currently undertaking. The song was from _The King and I_, a Western production of some description and the opening was sung by Lun Tha; the female lead character. It was her lines that Yutaka deciphered some manner of comparison between our relationship and the song lyrics. I suppose that's why he believes this song should be our own.

I started to sing, grateful that Yutaka probably would remember little of this the next day. Honestly, I know most people can't stand the sound of their own voice but I sincerely _loathe _hearing myself sing. To me it was not unlike telling an awful joke in a room full of strangers and being met with an awkward silence. Supreme embarrassment.

Regardless, he wished that I would sing for him and so I did. Because it was what he wanted.

"_I have dreamed that your arms are lovely,  
I have dreamed what a joy you'll be.  
I have dreamed every word you whisper.  
When you're close,  
Close to me.  
How you look in the glow of evening  
I have dreamed and enjoyed the view. _

In these dreams I've loved you so  
That by now I think I know  
What it's like to be loved by you,  
I will love being loved by you."

I could feel my face flushing a little and I struggled to remember the following verse but found Yutaka beating me to it. He was too weak to make a great effort in belting out the words in lyrical verse but he spoke them with tired sincerity, cheek snuggled in against my chest and arms gradually looping around my back in order to hold his body to mine.

He spoke Tuptim's part of the duet as though they were the sincere words of his heart:

"_Alone and awake I've looked at the stars,  
The same that smile on you;  
And time and again I've thought all the things _

_That you were thinking too. _

I have dreamed that your arms are lovely,  
I have dreamed what a joy you'll be.  
I have dreamed every word you whisper.  
When you're close,  
Close to me.  
How you look in the glow of evening  
I have dreamed and enjoyed the view.

In these dreams I've loved you so  
That by now I think I know.  
_What it's like to be loved by you._

_I have loved being loved by you." _

I didn't join in with him during the closing lines; that would have just been too corny for words. I did mouth them however and I felt them, which I feel is more important than outward representation dictating the matter. We held each other for a while but lovely though the moment was, neither of us felt like staying there all night and soon after I returned to my task. I soaped Yutaka's body until all the blood and dirt was washed away. His face was still a swollen mess, his nose broken, eyes black and lips puffy but this could be eased with an icepack after the conclusion of the shower.

Once his body was entirely cleaned, I worked some of my shampoo and conditioner through his hair and washed out the vomit and blood that had stained his blond locks. This took a little longer because I had to be careful not to further aggravate his head injuries, in particular the gaping wound at the very crown. It was grueling but it was eventually completed and with a weary sigh, I cut off the water in the shower and lifted Yutaka out, seating him back down on the toilet seat. My own body dripped wide puddles across the tiled floor as I dried and dressed him, combing out his long hair and braiding it, so that it would not become a nuisance during the night. He remained in that same trance like state, a result of the beating, the drug and the alcohol in his system. Having come this far without pause, the nausea must have lifted its' head and sniffed the wind because one minute I was cinching up the ties of Yutaka's pajama pants and the next, he was shoving me back, falling to his knees and twisting around, ripping the toilet seat up just in time. Nothing much came out but I heard the distinct splash of liquid hitting the toilet water, indicating that there was indeed something to be flushed from his system after all. I stroked the back of his head tenderly, and then took a moment to change myself, slipping into my bed yukata and tying my own hair out of the way. I expected Yutaka to shift backward once he was done wailing his guts out but the vomiting eventually ceased and he remained slumped over the squatting toilet, head hanging so deeply into the bowl he might as well have been bobbing for – okay, that simile just went to a very bad place. Moving right along.

"Come on." I urged, gripping him under each armpit and easily lifting him to his feet. He made a pathetic attempt to wipe his mouth clean but only really managed to smack his thoroughly bruised cheek with the back of his hand. I took the liberty and siphoned the excess fluid away with a piece of toilet paper, flushing both it and the vomitus matter when I was done. Then I steered the blond towards the sink and liberally propped him into place, jamming my toothbrush into his right hand.

"Brush." I commanded, producing a tube of toothpaste and squeezing a thick worm of it onto the worn bristles. Yutaka stared at it blankly and then attempted to wedge it between his lips. Toothpaste streaked up his cheek very much reminding me of a toddler attempting to apply lipstick for the very first time. Sighing with a patience I hadn't realized I'd possessed, I reapplied the toothpaste, cleaned off his face and then guided the brush into his mouth, steering his elbow back and forth in order to get the job done. I'd had a lot of practice caring for people this way; there had been a period, shortly after the death of his family when Muraki had not felt the need to exercise self-control and it had always been my 'pleasure' to have gone out of my way to scrape his ass out of whatever curb he'd plastered himself into, whip him home and get his pasty features cleaned up. Never mind that when my Uncle had fallen ill with cancer, he'd required assistance that I had, in that particular instance, been happy to provide. So yes, I was rather used to the process by that stage, never mind those certain nights my girls might have misbehaved, or my sisters and their various misdemeanors. Thank god, I was no longer living at home and enduring a repeat of all that with my baby brother! It seems as though my purpose in life is to clean up after other people. Be it vomit or blood, you can always count on Oriya Mibu to be there with the sponge because he has no life!

Yutaka and I finally worked our way through the teeth brushing debacle and I gave mine a quick once over, though I had already done them previously. I wondered whether it would be sound to mention to the guardian that I had only been driven to his rescue by the departed image of Seki, one of the girls he was investigating and with whom he appeared to share some inexplicable bond with. I ultimately figured that it wasn't the time to be dumping anything big on the boy, especially when his brain was not up to the task of interpreting it. It would have to be a breakfast topic, if anything.

I switched off the lights in the bathroom and carried Yutaka back out into the bedroom. He snuggled deep into the blankets of the bed when I tucked him in, his still slightly damp head of hair nuzzled against the wall of pillows. He seemed content for the time being (he was clearly exhausted and in need of rest) so I snuck back out of the room and tiptoed ninja-like, down to the kitchen. I managed to unearth an old ice-cream container that would prove useful if Yutaka needed to be suddenly sick in the middle of the night and found an ice pack in the staff first-aid kit. Owing to the amount of bruising on the guardian's face, I additionally retrieved a couple of bags of frozen mixed vegetables and wrapped them up in towels, hoping that this might be enough to bring the vicious swelling down. I was just trying to decide if it would be all right to give him something for the pain, when I felt a violent tug against the membrane, alerting me to the sudden and dramatic presence of another. Giving the intruder little time to react, I spun around to face them, yanking a cutting knife from the shelf in which it was kept and leveling it with the blade facing forward, my posture crouched and body all but twitching with sudden volatile energy.

"Ye got any pickles in 'ere?"

I groaned in self-mirth the moment I heard that thick Germanic accent. Sure enough, two seconds later in sauntered Ichibana, shiny clean as though he hadn't just been handling the thoroughly desecrated dead and perched himself atop the kitchen isle, regarding me with something of a bored expression. "C'mon now, _Dummkopf_. Put that there pointy thang down, 'fore ya break a nail. How'sa boss doin'?"

I forced my body to relax, though it was difficult to subdue such a violent rush of adrenaline, especially after a night like this. Come to think of it… I don't think that I have properly relaxed in years. I took a deep breath and then exhaled, trying to bring my center back level. It was hard and thoroughly unattainable right then.

"You frightened at least ten years off of me, you cheeky bastard." I scolded, sliding the knife back into its slot and then retrieving the wrapped frozen produce I had dropped in my haste to confront what I thought might have been a veritable threat. "Yutaka is… well, he's looking a hell of a lot better than he was before, though just about anything could be an improvement on that. I'm just about to apply a few of these to his face, see if I can't get that swelling to come down a bit."

Ichibana waved one of his long hands dismissively. "Really ain't worth it, hun. Come morning, 'is 'ealin' ability'll kick in and those coupla bruises, cuts – no sweat. Dry up like a country dam. Just give 'im plenty 'o water ta keep 'im hydrated."

"Can I at least give him something for the pain?" I asked, not sounding at all light in the way I directed this question. The djinni considered this momentarily; arms crossed and face introspective.

"Can't see that it would 'urt." He considered, looking back up to meet my gaze and then nodded as he affirmed the decision. "_Jawohl_, that shouldn't cause any trouble. Coupla painkillers would go over well, like aspirin even. That targets the pain sensors of the body, don't work just fer headaches!"

"I thought I heard your voice in here…" Came a sleepy female purr from the doorway.

Ichibana and I shot a look over towards the kitchen entranceway, to see none other than Sonja, the youngest of the geisha's in my service, lounging against the wooden frame, her sleepwear yukata glancing open daringly at the chest. I was immediately compelled to go over and pull it shut, preserving her modesty but I got the feeling that I wouldn't be thanked for doing so. Of all the girls in my employ, Sonja was the one with whom I had the least rapport. She wasn't crazy about me and I certainly wasn't crazy about her. She seemed to have got it into her head that I had told one of her more provincial clients some private information that I had learnt whilst reading her, or some nonsense. Truly, the prospect of dobbing my girls in to my clients was so far removed from my interests that it was nonsensical to think that I would ever have a hand in it. "What are the two of you doing up so late?"

"Bloke stuff, _fraülein _y'know. Talkin' 'bout golf, cars…" Ichibana said breezily, his eyes taking appreciative glances towards the sloping cut of Sonja's gown. She smiled with pleasure as she saw the attention she was receiving and ran a hand fussily through her slightly mussed bob of red hair.

"Cars, huh? Sounds kind of boring… no offense, Mr. Mibu." She said, flashing me her dazzling white set of straight teeth. I waved a hand disinterestedly, already sound in the knowledge that my girls considered me to be a big snooze. "Why don't you come with me and we'll find something else to talk about, Mr. Bana? I'm sure we can come up with a topic or two…?"

Ichibana hopped down off of the bench and merrily skipped over to join Sonja but I pulled him back at the last second.

"She's twenty-one!" I snapped, not bothering to hide how appalled I was by the idea that not only was Ichibana quite content to accept free handouts from me but equally concerned by Sonja's strange taste. The djinni did his own tooth flashing number as Sonja proceeded on ahead towards her bedroom.

"Oi, you ain't got no right ta lecture me, _meister_. Yer the one bonin' a guy who's old enough ta be yer father."

I tried not to think about that too much. "_You_ are about to become a mother… father… parent type… thing… the last thing you should be doing is having more fun-loving!"

"_Nix da! _Sorry man but I can't resist a redhead." Ichibana looked over and smiled at Sonja's fading back. "There's just somethin' about 'em that makes me wanna – well, open a topic!"

"Might I ask that you speak with me first." I stepped forward, blocking the djinni's exit. He looked up at me with impatient eyes. "There are questions that require answering."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled, distaste evident in his expression. "But of course. Yer curious no doubt. All ye humans have the same drive fer resolution. The same thirst ta clear the clouds of confusion. Ye can't ever rest easy until ye know and know and know. So," He shut his eyes, continuing to smile in that same tired manner I had seen in his face all night. "What is it that _you _wish te know, _Übermensch_?"

"What I want to know…? Well… to start-" I reached out and picked up his hands, holding them tightly between my own. I registered just enough strength to keep him from evading me. "That name – the name you told him – that demon. What was it again?"

"Hephaestus." The djinni said and there was no affection in his conversant. "Ye take issue with that title?"

"There was a strong reaction to it, so of course I take issue with it." I stated firmly, moving my palms to grasp his slender shoulders, keeping his attention fully directed towards me. It was impossible to read his signature patterns; my ability bounced back off of him like rubber. All I could do was judge by his physical and facial expressions. "Is Ichibana your true name? Is… your true allegiance to Yutaka? I guess my question is; can you be trusted beneath this roof?"

Ichibana smiled, his long eyelashes fluttering with unintentional diffidence and when next he spoke, his voice was entirely dissimilar to that which I had grown accustomed to. It was slight and androgynous; it echoed beneath itself as it issued from his lips. The accent entirely vanquished and no more a farce to begin with, so I wagered. "Oriya Mibu, you are one who knows not himself and yet you seek still to learn the identity of those around you. If it is so important then let it be known to you, so you can take what little comfort from it that you can." He stepped back and snapped free of my hold, his brilliantly shining eyes flickering as though a hand had passed over candlelight. "Long ago, I served as one of the four chief apostles of the Demon-God Mitkiel. My title was Hephaestus the Forger: the Dark Scourge of 1698; the name given to me by my father and I was born alone for the purpose of sharpening the Victim for his explicit purpose as Pet and Sacrifice. The demon you just met, Eurynomous, he is hardened by the centuries spent in nothing but warfare and fealty. But without hesitance, he took me in and made me his brother."

"So then… why hide behind this name Ichibana? Should it mean nothing to you?" I could not gauge his intentions. He was too well guarded; he battered away my mental probes as though they were as ineffective as swarming mosquitoes.

"Boy, do not worm your way into my mind. An Otherling is immune to the half-witted powers of the Flesh. If you desire answers than you must come upon them the old fashioned way. By request of my speech not of trickery." He reached out to me and I very nearly flinched as his fingers swept back across my forehead, his fingernail tapping slowly first once, then twice, directly between my eyes. "You are different. Just like that man, that Asato Tsuzuki. You have both been born with these great intentions."

"This is not about _me._" I reminded him. I guess he'd struck a nerve. I hated being reminded that I wasn't normal, though I had come to accept the reality of my situation long ago.

The djinni bowed his head. "No, of course. Forgive me." He didn't lose the smile but I accepted his manner for whatever its intentions offered, minimal as they may be. "For years I served as one of the Apostles of Mitkiel, never averting mine eyes from whatever gruesome, malign tasks were asked of my hand. I bestowed judgment by his supreme will and how I have come to regret that naïve cruelty. The stupidity that is violence. One of those victims designated to mine charge was a man named Isaac O'bana; a simple artist of the 1960's, left widowed by the plagues of Germany. An Amish man. It is his voice that you normally hear whence I speak, not this infernal tenor that is truly my own. Isaac taught me compassion; something I thought human beings not capable of. With all your wars, petty grievances and day-to-day violence, what more could I come to expect of you? And yet… it was a human who I had grown to love more dearly than any other creature I had ever known. Though I could satisfy him in no other fashion then in friendship, I knew very well that his religious principles were what kept him manacled. That he truly loved me. Through him I stood to understand the complexity of your species. It was Isaac who gave me the name Ichibana; a Japanese word he had heard from foreigners to his land. Ichibana, the flower arrangement, symbolizing unification between man, Heaven and Earth. Isaac set into play the destiny that was mine own to play out. I returned to Mitkiel and it was then centuries following my meeting with Isaac, that Mitkiel bought the boy to us."

"Who is the boy?" It was taking some time this inquisitorial. Valuable time in which Yutaka might very well have needed me but I had Ichibana at my beck in this moment and the information he was revealing might never be so freely offered again. I had to take advantage of whatever lenience he had afforded himself.

The djinni lowered his head and presented an expression that told me exactly what his following words did. "Oriya… you _know_. The pet of Mitkiel. How I grew to love that most precious, innocent child. How too did the others follow in my stead."

"This child… was he yours?"

Ichibana shut his eyes that tired smile wavering slightly. "He was not of my womb, no. Nor of my blood in any manner whatsoever. Regardless of this… that boy grew on me and I soon came to think of him as my little brother. I swore to him that no matter how long it would take, no matter the cost… I would free him." His expression took a sudden turn and the next thing I knew, he had his head buried three feet deep in the refrigerator. "Seriously, ye got any milk?"

I sighed impatiently. "Finish telling me your story first and then you can have all the damn milk and pickles and watermelon you want."

He looked up, eyes wide. "How about toast? With sauerkraut?"

"Sure. Sauerkraut." I said, wondering if I had any even as I promised it.

Ichibana turned back around, bumping the refrigerator door shut with his hip as he did. "The boy and I… I managed to get him all the way out. I took him to Obama and we went into hiding for a while. I was young however… I knew that I lacked the strength to effectively combat Mitkiel's legions, should he send them after me. I attempted to accelerate my magical abilities by absorbing the spiritual energy of the surrounding human souls."

"Just like Muraki." I murmured to myself. Ichibana didn't seem to hear me, because he continued on in that similar spiel.

"But the souls that I devoured only served to attract the attention of the Judgment Bureau. They deployed that _Yutaka Watari_." His jaw clenched tightly, I could sense his frustration. "He was hardly a field operative and I would have seen him dead by the end of the first day but the boy softened my hand and I was unable to exact the throttling I was once capable of. That infernal guardian pursued me all over Obama and finally bound me to a pentagram, casting the spell of Confinement. The boy and I were separated and for years I was bound in darkness, years was it before that blond pain in the ass trusted me enough to let me out for nighttime expeditions. But by then… it was too late. The boy couldn't take care of himself. Mitkiel's legions found him… they found him. And I no longer possessed the power to travel back and free him a second time."

I felt something hit the floor and I actually had to focus in order to see the tears rolling down the djinni's pale cheeks. He covered his mouth, stifling a sound that he must have been hiding for some time. "I've never spoken of this to anyone… I don't know what it is about you but… you bring this out in the people around you. It's as though… honesty is impossible to be withheld from you."

I stepped forward, trying to be respectful in my actions and touched my hand to the crown of the djinni's soft head of hair. He allowed my contact; he was not a prudish creature.

"This information may have been of great use to Yutaka and myself." I said, thinking that saying so was rather rhetorical. "You should have told us a long time ago."

Ichibana hung his head, swiping his hand across his face. "Many things have changed since my days of service to Mitkiel. Besides… it is not something I eagerly anticipated discussing."

He turned about and fossicked in the fridge for a moment, retrieving a thick slab of salami, a jar of pickles and rummaging up a small container of sauerkraut substitute, whatever that might be. Properly armed with his craving suppressants, the petite creature headed for the doorway, pausing just long enough to turn his gaze sidelong towards me.

"Have ye ever had children of yer own, hot stuff?"

My heart skipped a beat and I wanted to tell him to mind his own business. Yet he had been so honest with me and had asked for no remuneration in return for this honesty. I felt a duty to injure myself, just as he was so doing.

"A few years back… an old girlfriend and I got pregnant." I swallowed back a heavy lump in my throat, frightened by my own candor. "We had the baby for a month. A daughter. But she-" I was suddenly uncomfortable and fidgety, placing my hands on my hips, pressing my lips together. I _really _didn't want to talk about this. "-she uh… she died. SIDS."

"So you do understand what it's like to lose someone you've come to think of as your own." Ichibana nodded and I registered sincerity in his face for the first time. "I'm sorry."

I wanted to drop the subject. "It's fine. Really. It was seven years ago."

"It's never easy to lose a child. You can be separated from them by years… but you'll always love them. Always long for them. And always find a way of blaming yourself for not being able to protect them." He tapped the side of his nose knowingly and then stepped out into the hallway, clearly off in pursuit of Sonja, his snack food tucked under one arm. "Look… don't mind me, handsome. I'm just ramblin'. Ye'd best go check on the boss. Got a feelin' e's gonna be needin' ya a lot more in the next coupla days. I'll talk ta 'im in the mornin'. Tell 'im what I know. K?"

I left it at that, too tired to pursue the subject any further and lacking the incentive to properly stage an argument against this ridiculous union between a horny pregnant djinni and a horny, probably soon to be pregnant geisha. I left them to whatever tiresome games they were bound to end up playing and rustled up a pack of aspirin, filled a jug of water and carried both it and an empty glass back up to my bedroom. Yutaka was sitting up in bed, his bleary eyes darting all across the room in an attempt to locate me. He exclaimed gratefully when I reentered, sliding the door shut behind me with my butt.

"I thought you'd left me!" He said in that same raspy voice that just broke my heart to be witness to. I shook my head, discouraging his fears and opened the aspirin packet, slipping two out of the silver foil and handing them to him. Yutaka managed to shove the small white pills into his mouth whilst I filled the glass and then assisted him in negotiating the water to his lips. He smiled gratefully at me once they were down.

"Thankyou." Was his simple yet meaningful reply. I was touched by it, nonetheless.

I put the bucket down next to the bed, making sure Yutaka knew where it was. After drinking some more water, he seemed ready to settle and I sat by his side for a while as he snuggled down into the blankets, groaning softly every now and again, clearly discomforted.

"I'll let you get some rest." I told him as I climbed to my feet, fully intending on sleeping in one of the spare rooms in order to afford Yutaka a little privacy in such a vulnerable state. But before I could get my buttocks partially off of the sheets, the blond halted my progress by snagging hold of my yukata sleeve, his swollen eyes staring up at me imploringly.

"No, Mr. Oriya…" He begged, unable to even lift his head from the soft pillows. He really was sick, to be rendered to such a weak state, unable to govern even minimalist control of his body. "… please… _please _stay with me… I don't wanna be alone… and I'm so cold…"

It wasn't as though I could ignore his request when he said it like that, now could I? Besides, I was weary and yearning for my own comfortable bed, with its designer mattress that would keep my old spinal injury from flaring up during the night. So it didn't take much convincing for me to give in. I climbed in from the other side and allowed myself just the smallest luxury in twining my arm about Yutaka's waspy waist. It was quite warm there, all curled up tight and close to one another, with all the potential of an intimacy I had searched for my entire life. If only this could have fallen under more positive circumstances! If only I could have enjoyed this without feeling as though I were taking advantage of it!

"Thankyou…" I heard Yutaka whisper and my fondness of him beat in the bounds of my chest, like a caged butterfly. "I've… really embarrassed myself, haven't I?"

"Oh, don't worry about that." I assured him, though secretly thinking that he was in for quite a lecture when he was feeling better. "Happens to all of us sometimes."

He let out a small choking sob, the sound mostly muffled by the pillow. "It should _only _happen sometimes! It's been happening to me my whole life! My _whole _life! I'm pathetic!"

"_Shhh… _don't say that." I said in my most soothing voice, running my fingers down the side of his scraped cheek. "You're not pathetic."

He continued to sob in a quiet, defeatist sort of way. "Yes I… AM! You said it yourself, that I treat myself as though I'm worth nothing!" He sniffed, his breath sucking back into his throat in that heart breaking sound one makes when they are in severe emotional turmoil. "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry, I'm _so _sorry…"

I had nothing articulate to respond to this with, so I did only what I felt that he needed. I shushed him gently with my voice, hoping the temperate susurration would calm his fevered whimpers and lay my lips against the side of his face, wishing that my kisses were able to heal his wounds as easily as his own were capable of healing mine. I closed what tiny space remained between our bodies and brought him in tightly against me, holding him with the gentle sincerity of my affection. It took a while but eventually Yutaka was able to calm down. He lay there, cheek resting in the crook of my arm (that was starting to go gray beneath his weight, I might casually mention) and simply enjoyed my ministrations; my hand stroking the side of his face, occasionally running back across his still damp hair. I thought now he was calm, he might adhere to my words and whispered directly downward into the delicate curve of his ear.

"Yutaka… you must not beat yourself up over this. God knows, there's not a great deal left to beat! And what's left of you that is still intact, is certainly not worth punishing. People make mistakes; it's a fact of life, _cher._ Just let it be a lesson to you. To be more observant of your surroundings from now on."

He was falling asleep, thank God. I could hear his breaths evening out, indicating that slumber was not too far off. But he still wanted to talk; he still wanted to fight his right for justification.

"I'm tired of making mistakes…" He said, voice groggy with imminent unconsciousness. "Sometimes… sometimes it seems as though nearly everything I've done… has been a mistake…"

I could feel my patience wearing just that little bit thin. "Oh, stop being so melodramatic." I scolded. He needed to be confronted with the reality of the situation and it was not going to work if he simply continued to feel sorry for himself. Self-indulgence was fine in moderation but people need to be told when it is best to restrain themselves, or it becomes an easy, comfortable addiction. A simple method of salving ones wounds when facing the outside world became too difficult. "What is it that is making you so miserable? I took you for a happy guy and ever since you've turned up, you've done nothing but cry."

He was silent for some time but when next he spoke, the tears and self-pity were mercifully gone from his voice. "I'm sorry… you're absolutely right. I've indulged myself for far too long with this petty behaviour." I sensed his eyes fluttering shut and I wondered again why it was that he would not wear contacts instead of glasses, especially considering how beautiful his eyes were. "It's not you though… you're so nice to me, even when I've caused you nothing but trouble." He chuckled a little at this, so that I would know he was no longer dragging his face through the mud.

I ran my hand back across his face. "It has been my pleasure, having you here Yutaka. Kindness is something that every man deserves, on account of it being a mans duty to offer it. Why on earth would you presume that you should be exempt from your god given right to be treated with compassion?" I ran my fingers underneath his chin, caressing the indent there, wincing at the split upon his lips, already scabbing over.

His voice issued low from beneath my fingers. I felt the words as much as heard them.

"I was… bad."

"_Bad_?" I repeated, my fingers still stroking the shape of his chin. It was prompt enough for him to continue apparently.

"When I was a boy… I wasn't any better. It was… always my fault. I was always… asking for it… I brought it on myself."

My heart seized in my chest. Something in there was trying to claw its' way out. "What did you bring on yourself?" I spoke like a bad drama actor, giving into the situation.

Yutaka's eyes snapped open. To me, they rang clear like the shutter of a camera. A camera, reflecting back on past negatives, dark images captured forever on the shroud of reel that spooled through its memory and encompassed the reality once caught in the light before it.

"I was bad… that's why it happened. That's why he was looking at me… why he tried to be alone with us… me and Reiku…"

"Who's Reiku?" I asked, losing sense of what we were collectively witnessing for a moment.

"My sister…" Yutaka said, after a drowsy moment of hesitation. There was a shifting beneath the sheets and I realized that he was drawing his legs up tight against his body, as though trying to protect himself from something. His hands started fussing with his hair, pulling it about his face. "We uh… we had this neighbor; Okiko Haruhi, an old friend of the family. Known my folks since they was all teenagers, family history and all that. We was living in Osaka at the time… all eleven of us. Told ya I had nine siblings, right? Reiku was the oldest. She was real pretty. Blond, tall, leggy. Bit too shy to ever be really outgoing with the boys but she got plenty of looks, I can tell ya that! Unfortunately, she got 'em from this guy livin' next door to us, too. He was our… our Godfather. We grew up with him. He babysat us from time to time, always-extra special nice to Reiku and I. I was a real cute kid. Grew out of it, unfortunately but I was quite a good looking tot!" His voice was speeding up and he was running across his words, as though he had ripped open the floodgate and now he couldn't stop what was coming out. "One day my family… went to visit our Grandparents, here in Kyoto. I was entered in a big Science Comp at my primary school… gosh; I was only eight at the time… so I wanted to stay. To think, if I had only gone with 'em, I woulda been okay! Reiku was sixteen and so they said she should stay home with me and they'd get Mr. Haruhi to watch out for us. The day after they'd left, I came home from school and I heard this funny noise in the lounge-room. I looked in and… and it was…"

Suddenly, he clapped his hands over his mouth and shoved his face down into the pillow, a muffled scream, laced with years of frustration filtered out from either side of the makeshift buffer. I lay my hand on the back of his neck, trying to keep it from shaking along with his body. Alas, I knew it could not be helped. I could feel my own body fribulating with anger… and recognition.

Yutaka trembled beneath my touch but his hand found mine and held it tight, this giving him the strength to continue it would seem. He found his voice again but he spoke with great reluctance of this devastating event.

"I'm not supposed to speak about it… that sort of thing happened a lot in those days. It was the fifties, y'know? So we never spoke about it. It was not the done thing. But I… how could I ignore it? My sister… she thought that by giving herself to him, by letting him touch her… that he would be satisfied enough to leave the rest of us alone. She was so selfless… god how I loved her for that. But never mind what she hoped to accomplish. I had uncovered their arrangement. I remember Reiku telling me to run… 'just run Yutaka' she had screamed at me but I didn't understand what was going on. I was so young… and scared. I was sure it was wrong for him to have been… touching her that way but I figured that maybe I had misinterpreted the scenario somehow and so I stupidly stuck around to hear the explanation."

I felt something moving in rhythm beneath the flesh of my temple and knew that pure and simple anger was taking over my body. Blind rage rushed though me, a cold sensation, rather than a heated fury flushing through my veins.

"What happened to you?" I asked, though perhaps I need not have bothered with the verification at all. I had not forgotten those marks I had found upon his hips. The fingernails that had drawn him backwards as he had attempted to pull himself free from something… something that had made the lower portion of his body ache unbearably…

Yutaka snorted disdainfully. "Can't you guess? Reiku she… she tried to hold him back but he locked her away in the hall closet. That man he… he took me into the kitchen and turned on the tap, filling the sink with scalding water. He held my face over it… said if I struggled, or screamed for help or refused to do whatever he said at any time, he would dunk my face down into the water and hold it there while he went about his business. He said… he said that all the flesh of my face would melt off and that my eyeballs would cook like eggs. He-he cut my clothes away using a cleaver – he held it behind my ear and told me… if I flinched, he'd peel the skin from my face like an orange. Oriya… I was so afraid… what else could I do but what he asked?"

"Yutaka…" I whispered and heard my voice turn to water.

"It was those eyes…" He said, shuddering in my hold and sinking his back in tight against my chest as though I might have protected him from the past I had no control over. "I was scared… I can't even imagine what it had been like for Reiku, keeping quiet and satisfying him for all those years, just so he would never touch us. But he got me… he wanted me because she was becoming too old for him and I was a boy and so young. He said… he said it was my fault that he desired me… because whenever I was out playing with my brothers and sisters…" He tilted his head back and I brushed my fingers down his face, feeling the waves of tears coursing across his tattered flesh. "I-I…I was wearing shorts… and a t-shirt…"

"That's bullshit…"

" '_You tempt me with that flesh.' _I won't ever forget those words. I showed off my skin and tempted him, so that gave him the right to fuck with me because I _asked for it!_"

"That's bullshit and you know it, Yutaka!" I grabbed him tight about his body and pulled him against me, sinking my face into his hair and stifling the maddening scream that rose in my chest like a wounded snake preparing to strike. I was filled with such an overwhelming hatred, such oblique disgust to a degree of intensity that it was almost divine. I wanted to tear out into the night with any number of my swords, find the man who had done this unthinkable sin and cause him the kind of suffering that I had originally thought Muraki only capable of exacting. Oh no… the hand that falls upon children is the hand that offers its fingers to the knife. There was not a decent human being alive that would not murder those that have harmed innocent children.

"Yutaka…" I breathed, bringing my hand down to caress his forehead, my lips pressing down into the damp crown of his head over and over again. "Oh _cher_… how awful… how dreadfully awful."

The guardians' fingers stroked down along my arms, his nails tickling the fine hair. There was still somewhat more to be said, it would seem.

"Mr. Haruhi… knew that his little game was over so… he took Reiku and I next door and… hid us in his basement… a room with no doors and no windows, buried beneath the earth, where he could practice his aberrant sexual fantasies uninterrupted by the outside world. He never actually … ah, screwed me after that time in the kitchen. He tried just about everything else after that. He grew bored with Reiku and kept her around mostly because she knew his secret. He kept us tied to individual posts of the bed with belts around our neck and the pole itself. Just like dogs. It's why I'm a bit… y'know, _iffy _'bout folks touchin' my throat. I often wear turtlenecks because they make me feel a little more protected, right?"

I wanted to bundle him up and hide him away from the world. Dear god in Heaven, the things that this man had suffered!

"How long did it last?" I asked, reluctant to hear more but wanting to know everything, if he would let me.

"Only a fortnight. Mr. Haruhi… he… one day he came down into the basement and he wanted to see Reiku and I… well, screweach other. I wasn't even capable of that sort of thing! I was eight for gods' sake! He tried to make us do it but we put up a fight and he shoved me back into this old grandfather clock he kept in the corner. The glass on the casing broke and I just managed to grab a hold of this one big shard. I got him with it… I went straight for his groin. Gave me and Reiku plenty of time to climb up out of the basement and run next door."

"And what of that man?" I asked through gritted teeth. I felt Yutaka shiver in my arms.

"He… he wasn't there when the police went a'knockin'. Somehow, he managed to slip away. I think that little injury I did him might've slowed him down chasing the five year olds though." He laughed sadly, his hands clenching tightly around my own. "I don't know how he did it but he wasn't ever caught by the police. He escaped… he left Reiku and I… we had a few years of counseling but in those days, it was just one of those things you were meant to forget about, y'know? People expected us ta just… get over it and be strong. They eventually got angry if we were havin' bad days."

"Like you could just _get over it._" I growled, angry with these nameless, faceless people.

"My Mama… she blamed herself for it. A woman she knew quite well had warned her that Mr. Haruhi had messed about with her own daughter and that he was not to be trusted but Mama didn't believe her. After what happened to us though… her guilt just got the better of her. She got sick… cried all the time… Before this happened she and I were so much alike. She was such a vivacious, upbeat, strong woman. It was unusual to see her without a smile but after that incident… it was almost like she grew tired of life. We just watched her fade away and day-by-day, there was another little piece of her gone. She lived until I was in my twenties but she hadn't been herself for years before that. And I missed her… my Papa, he tried his best but he worked out of town a lot, supporting our huge family and he couldn't always be there for us. So… us children just learned to be self-sufficient from very early on. Reiku and I… I don't think they meant it but the rest of our siblings sort of shunted us after the incident. They thought there was something terribly wrong with us and figured that steering clear was the normal way to behave. It was pretty lonely. Reiku fled the scene as soon as she reached 19. She eloped with her boyfriend at the time and ran off into the night, leaving me with only words of promise that we would see each other again. Years later, when I was 18 I met Tamiko… and I don't doubt for a second that it was she who rescued me. I would have died a much younger man if she hadn't found me. And tonight… god to think of what would have become of me should you have not shown up." With a pained groan, the guardian managed to twist himself around, facing me in the darkness. We were so close; I could feel his warm breath against my cheek. "I'm such a freakin' damsel in distress… but still… _thankyou,_ Oriya. From the bottom of my heart, _thankyou_. I owe you my sanctity and that is greater still then my existence."

I felt a warm, wet sensation press against my mouth and realized that he was kissing me. Purely chaste, I returned the gesture only in a compassionate formality, surprised that I was even able to unclench my jaw enough for this act. I was so angry… and so disturbed that such demented people actually existed. Yutaka Watari… he was a truly gentle soul. How could anyone have done something this deplorable to him? When he had been so young… Jesus, no wonder he had been terrified that night. Those men were bare seconds away from reenacting that disgusting defilement that should never have occurred in the first place, let alone been reproduced. And one week ago, when he had rejected my continued advances within the sitting room… now I finally understood his severe reaction. A child… his face scant inches from boiling water and the blade of a cleaver being pressed against the back of his ear, ghastly threats whispered into it all the while. He must have been so scared… tonight… and then.

I gently prized my lips from his, bringing my hand up to cup the shape of his cheek, fishing the strands of hair that always seemed to hang loose about his face, back behind his ear.

"Okiko Haruhi, right?" I asked, holding my voice as steady as possible. Yutaka didn't register the implications of what his affirmation might have meant. For someone as well connected as myself to know ones name, was a very severe state of affairs indeed. It was the sort of situation that would have sent informed individuals rustling for their plane tickets to Acapulco. The blond managed a small murmuring confirmation and rolled over, curling himself up into a protective cocoon, spooning his right arm about his pillow, keeping the other clutched firmly about my own.

"I'm really tired Oriya… and I don't feel well." He tugged the blankets up closer to his chin and hunkered down as deeply as possible. " Can I go to sleep now? _Please?_"

I gazed upon him with sympathetic eyes and an affectionate heart. That he would think it necessary to _ask_! I brushed back his bangs, bringing that same hand forward to stroke the side of his face. The wounds there were already scabbing beneath my fingers.

"Of course. I'll be right here if you should need me during the night."

I felt his eyes snap open. I guess he was surprised that I had allowed the annulment of our conversation. Did I really come off as being such a hard-ass?

"You mean… you'll stay with me?" His voice was incredulous, as though he doubted the sincerity of my words. I felt his fingers fall down over mine, just acknowledging the touch of my hand about his waist. "Just like _this_?"

I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at here but his posture and tone gave me just enough information to interpret his meaning. What he meant to say was, _'He doesn't want anything more from me? Even when I couldn't do a thing to stop him in this state, he's just content to go to sleep?'_

I smiled, leaning down to press my mouth against his temple. "Don't expect from me, what you have received from others. This is what I had intended all along, remember? Looks like we ended up together in my bed after all." I petted his head gently. "I'll stick around. You just go to sleep now. Everything will be all right in the morning. You'll see."

Yutaka was stunned. I could tell by the short silence, the registered widening of his eyes and the slight stiffening of his legs beneath the sheets. Perhaps I was the first of his prospective lovers to have shared a bed with him and expected nothing more from the situation then to simply fall asleep by the side of one another. This possibility depressed me, that Yutaka might have interpreted all men's motives to have been so shallow.

"I love you…" He whispered.

My heart sped up but I forced it to slow back down, understanding full well that Yutaka was simply overcome by his ordeal that night and didn't comprehend the severity of those words. It was too soon for him to have feelings of such an extreme nature. I allowed myself only a small smile in reverence and pressed his head down to rest softly against the pillow.

"Sleep…" I prompted, laying my own weary head down and conceding at long last to bring my sleepy eyes to a close. The night was very quiet. A cicada chirped. The river that framed Kokakuro's boundaries trickled in the distance. It was a beautiful moment. A beautiful scene, caught betwixt of the most disastrous, heartbreaking and horrifying past events and future possibilities, be they good or equally painful.

I felt Yutaka close his eyes at last. His voice fluttered out once more before grateful sleep claimed him.

"I really do… I really do love you… Oriya."

Okiko Haruhi.

By morning, a few of my more disreputable acquaintances would have learnt his name.

And for once, I was sincerely remorseful that I could no longer call on Muraki for that favor.

Okiko Haruhi.

I hoped for his sake that he was already dead.

_**EC**_** –**

**NaPap: **Man, I am FRIGGIN awesome!

**Tatsumi: **No you are not! Shut up!

**NaPap: **Excuse me! _You _don't get to offer your opinion of me, _Tightwad. You _are only the _money muse. _So get cracking and make me some more money! Mama wants to buy a new pair of ankle boots!

**Tatsumi: **(Grumbles and returns to finance table, sporting one of those weird visor numbers) This would be _so _much easier if you hadn't crashed your car…

**Watari: **_Eh?! _NaPap! You crashed your car?!

**Muraki: **I see you're still walking. Do a better job next time, eh?

**NaPap: **Okay, now that's just hurtful!

**Tsuzuki: **Well you might as well be a paraplegic. It's not as though you move around much…

**NaPap: **Hey! I do a lot of shopping and dog walking! How would I do any of that in a wheelchair?

**Oriya: **Lots of people manage just fine. I had to get about in a wheelchair when I broke my back. I was in wheels for a little over a year. I should have been there for the rest of my life but I miraculously got better.

**Tsuzuki: **How did you _miraculously _get better?

**Oriya: **… Don't ask questions! It ruins the plot!

**Tsuzuki: **There is no plot! What the hell is going on in this thing!?

**NaPap: **That's for me to know and for you to suffer through, Chastity Boy.

**Tsuzuki: **You! Shut your big Southern yap!

**Saki: **Come on, NaPap! Chop chop! Get the next chapter up! (Sighs happily) Finally, I get to be portrayed in a positive light!

**NaPap: **Now _you're _giving away the plot! Stop it! Stop it all of you!

**Muraki: **Was that 'chop chop' thing supposed to be cleaver?

**All: **…

**Muraki: **I meant… _clever. _(Places fingers on chin and looks mysterious) Or did I?

**NaPap: **… You've been reading my classified files again, haven't you?! Damn that magical eye of yours!

**Oriya: **I'm still trying to figure out how Saki changed from a floating disembodied head into a real boy.

**Watari: **Maybe it was a wizard. Or the blue fairy.

**Tsuzuki: **… Muraki's the blue fairy?

**Oriya: **Wouldn't surprise me.

**Muraki: **Oh, you keep that up. Make it easy for yourself.

**Saki: **Being a floating disembodied head is _very _slimming. It's all the rage in Hollywood these days. Now that being a size 0 is actually obtainable, the starlets and aiming large and stripping kilos off by removing their bodies completely!

**Muraki: **… That… is the most _ridiculous _thing I have _ever _heard of. And I'm the guy who was going to bring my brother back to life by sticking his head back on Mr. Tsuzuki's body, so that should tell you something about the stupidity of _that _little article!

**Watari: **Hey, I gotta question!

**Tatsumi: **Shoot.

**NaPap: **Excuse me! _I'm _the boss of this fanfic! ME boss! YOU money muse! Now, what do ya want annoying little blond haired main character?

**Watari: **… Eh… what I want to know is… was there any point in that Kenyle guy cracking onto me in the earlier chapter?

**NaPap: **Apart from earning me a flame that I favor you too much, not really. I totally _wanted _that flame, after all. I was totally asking it by being so _nice _to you.

**Watari: **… You're a total cow to me!

**NaPap: **EXACTLY.

**Tsuzuki: **Why do you care about that anyway, Watari?

**Watari: **Oh, no reason.

**Tsuzuki: **… You totally want him don't you?

**Watari: **I want everyone. On principle. I am a nerdy ho. I never really expressed it in the manga or anime but I am. Take _that _Matsushita! NaPap is _totally _going to redesign my character, even though I don't belong to her at all!

**NaPap: **… You totally could you know. I'm just far too polite to urinate on your leg.

**Tsuzuki: **Oh gross.

**Oriya: **Yutaka, if you really want to date that Kenyle fellow, that's totally fine with me.

**Watari: **Really?!

**Oriya: **Sure. We haven't made any great declamations of our relationship yet. We should feel free to date other people too. That's why _I'm _going to start seeing someone on the side too.

**Watari: **… Like who?

**Oriya: **Well, let's see… who am I normally paired up with? (Looks at checklist) I could date that Hisoka chap… or Muraki… or Tsuzuki… or even the Tightwad over there.

**Tatsumi: **…

**Watari: **No way! They're all my alternative pairings too, buddy!

**Oriya: **Or I could date Ukyou… oh wait, she's my cousin. …

**Watari: **So that means I could date her!

**Tsuzuki: **Hisoka should date her.

**Muraki: **No one is dating Ukyou! She is my ex-fiancée and only _I _get to decide who I'm going to give her away to!

**Saki: **She was supposed to be with me… you know, before the whole dying debacle got in the way…

**Muraki: **You're definitely out! (Thinks) She can date my new best friend; The Count.

**Count: **Goodie!

**Oriya: **I lose out to _this _guy?

**Watari: **Ah, never mind, honey. I guess I'll give Kenyle a miss and just stick with you, for the time being. (Huggles Oriya's arm)

**Oriya: **Gee, _thanks a bunch._

**NaPap: **Well,

**NaPap: **Well, I was going to go a special reviewer reviews section to commemorate my return to DA but the damn chapters too long to upload with them! Besides, I'd probably be kicked off if I posted them… so I'll just send the individual responses to my reviewers!

**Tsuzuki: **One at a time? Man that's going to take forever!

**NaPap: **It's worth it. But it will take a while longer to get them to you reviewers, because I've been so busy with the chapters! But thankyou for all your kind words and all the reviews and I promise to get the responses to your reviews for the last three chapters out to you as soon as humanely possible! Well, hope you enjoyed the new chapter everyone! Muraki's addition will be up soon, so please R and R until next time when I hope you can join me again! (Passes out from sleep deprivation)

**All: **…


	22. Muraki: And so the Farce Rolls

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer: **This disclaimer thing is stupid. Honestly. You guys know very well that Descendants of Darkness does not belong me, so stop making me repeat myself! I sound like a broken record! I don't own Descendants of Darkness – I don't own Descendants of Darkness – I don't own Descendants of Darkness- STOP IT!! I can't say it any more! It's driving me nuts! (Falls to the floor, twitching and drooling)

**A/N: **Well, folks I have some very important plotline developments to establish, so if I could have your attention for just a moment before you dive headlong into the next chapter, I would really appreciate it!

**Readers: **(All scroll down and start reading)

**NaPap: **… I SAID I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IT! (Has another nervous breakdown) Listen to what people have to say, dammit! I'm the author and I demand respect!

**Muraki: **(Pokes NaPap with stick)

**NaPap: **THAT'S NOT RESPECT!

**Oriya: **Oh shut up and say what you wanted to say. I'm sure a couple of people are reading this.

**NaPap: **Yes well for those of you that are, I just wanted to establish a timeline change! I will write this in bold so you can all take special note of it! (Clears throat) Ahem. **In chapter 14 I originally made it so that only a week had passed between events. To make this clearer, Muraki was treating his patient in Sakaki for a week and Watari had been investigating in the Kokakuro for one week. I have now changed that space of time to TWO WEEKS rather than ONE WEEK.**

**Tsuzuki: **… Why?

**NaPap: **It allows for a more realistic depth of feeling. I will need to go back over the past couple of chapters and change it when I've got the chance but if you readers do happen to go back, anywhere where I make reference to the one week, mentally replace it with two weeks.

**Watari: **Geez… You mean it's taking me a _fortnight _to figure anything out?

**NaPap: **You got it, Sweetcheeks!

**Watari: **… Well I feel sheepish.

**NaPap: **Oh! And on a more personal note-

**Muraki: **No one cares that you got your car fixed.

**NaPap: **(Bottom lip trembles) _I_ care.

**Saki: **Hey, can we just get on with this chapter already? This one's my favorite!

**Muraki: **(Suspicious) … Why?

**Saki: **(Mysteriously) You'll see…

**NaPap: **Well MuTsu fans, here's a bit o' bait ta keep you hooked! Hope you enjoy the update and sorry that it took so long! Normally, I will post the next chapter if I have the one following it already written in advance but the lemon is taking even longer than I expected!

**Watari: **(Shivers) Oooh, that sounds good!

**Oriya: **(Visualizes) Indeed…

**Muraki **

So traumatized was Mr. Tsuzuki was by his experiences into the bathroom and beyond, the he actually placed himself entirely in my care, devoting the entirety of his attention to relaying the sequence of events. I only half listened, working my contented way through the tasks I was confronted with. As Tsuzuki talked, his voice low and emotionally bruised, I encouraged him to lay down on his stomach on the floor, taking the time to appreciate the occasional peek of his firm round buttocks from beneath the white towel he had previously fixed about his waist. He told me of the genuine horrors his soul had been confronted with, the image of his sister appearing from within the mirror and the obscure poetry Mr. Watari had suggested been written by me. I nodded, mildly interested in what he was saying, my attention mostly concerned by the slow but incidentally arousing task of prying out the slivers of glass imbedded in the skin of Mr. Tsuzuki's back with a pair of tweezers. Every piece removed caused a small trail of blood to creep down along the line of the Guardians toned back, seeping into the crevice of his spine and swimming in to stain the small droplets of water still clinging the small hairs of his skin. I noticed with some satisfaction the barred hitching of Tsuzuki's breath as I slowly unwound the towel from about his waist, gazing appreciatively at the various cuts and scratches adorning the pale, rounded globes. The guardian hesitated only briefly in his recapitulation and then plunged directly back into it, voice wincing on the rare occasion that one of my extrications caused him pain. I heard the whole grisly story of the corpses, the demon Mitkiel and his plan to exact vengeance upon the guardians of death. I listened to it all and heard nothing. My eyes caught and held the sensual sight of each small cut healing. Not even when he spoke of being confronted with the image of myself as a child did it deter my attentions. I finished my task of brief medical attentions and tenderly patted the guardians backside, delighting in the succinct shriek of concern I elicited from my beloved. I dried his damp body, rubbed down his soaking head of hair and carried his shaking body back to the bedroom, seating him down on the side of the freshly pressed sheets. I took a moment to enjoy the view, Tsuzuki was clearly too distressed by his wanderings to concern himself with modesty. It was all too tempting. I restrained myself from reaching out and caressing him, delicious though the urge was. His skin was firm and delighting to my senses… He continued to talk as I searched through his bedside cabinet, retrieving the snuggest fitting pair of boxer shorts I could find. I held Tsuzuki by the ankles, fitting each foot down through the respective legs of his underwear and then lifting his bottom in order to slide them up over his hips. I'll admit, I was enjoying myself. I'd just finished getting him dressed in the most sensible pair of pajama's I could find, when his cheeks suddenly swelled. I quickly bent his head over the side of the bed but nothing came up. Perhaps he hadn't much left in his stomach. I'd seen an empty bottle of vodka in the trash.

"I've seen some awful things in my time as a Guardian but… oh my God…" He dipped his forehead down so low that it scraped against his knees. "I think… I think I did something terrible here in Tokyo over 70 years ago. But… Muraki, I can't remember! Can I trust my memories?"

I couldn't satisfactorily answer this. How could I judge the memories of others, when my own were so difficult to verify? I found this a most unsettling conversation to be having, especially after the passion we had only just shared. In all sincerity, I was exceptionally tired. I had driven all night to get here and had not yet been home, not even to change, rest or unpack. I was sleep deprived and weak from starving my supernatural abilities. Having fed from Tsuzuki I was beginning to feel stronger but I still required sleep.

Failing to receive an answer to his previous question, Mr. Tsuzuki took on an entirely separate approach to gaining my opinion. He leaned down and rested his hands on my shoulders, staring directly into my eyes.

"Muraki, just promise me that tomorrow… you'll find somewhere else to be, okay?" The genuine concern in his voice momentarily threw me. "What's your normal routine?"

I took a brief review of my schedule for the following day. "8:30 am I start my shift at the hospital and I go right through until 7:30 pm. Then I would head home."

Mr. Tsuzuki gripped my shirt tightly, bringing his face down even closer to my own. "Don't go to the hospital. Take the day off and go out of town. I'll call you when things have settled down a bit but until then, I think it's safest that you lay low for a while."

"Taking a personal day is not a simple state of affairs for a doctor, Mr. Tsuzuki." I chuckled, climbing to my feet and sliding open the cabinet drawers one at a time. "There's a process to it. Papers to file, suitable excuses to make, a replacement surgeon would need to be notified and then there's the scheduling nightmare of rearranging their own routine – do you have any candles?"

"No." The guardian said impatiently, staggering up and moving to my side, clenching my sleeve between his fingers. "Look, it can't be that hard getting a day off. Just do what I do and tell them you're sick! Tell them you've got food poisoning, tell them you've got Asian bird flu, just feed them something so they'll let you stay away!" He was starting to sound hysterical and I think he realized this. He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down and gently clutched my arms. "Muraki… if the others found you in this weak state there's no telling what they might do."

I pulled him down to sit beside me on the bed, nursing his hands between my own. "Why this sudden shift in your manner towards me, Mr. Tsuzuki? You didn't hit your head in the bathroom did you?"

"No!" The guardian snapped indignantly. He looked as petulant as a lovely person could. "It's just… that things are different now, y'know?"

"Yes, of course they are, darling." I patted the slender length of his bare leg, reaching over with my spare hand to yank the bedside drawer open. "Now are you sure you don't have any candles? Sandalwood perhaps? The scent promotes a soothing atmosphere."

"Well I would need to crank up about ten of those." Mr. Tsuzuki muttered. I couldn't help but notice that he had taken to holding my hand and following its movement up and down his leg. He was starting to reciprocate my affections and indeed encourage them. Whatever he had encountered in that Dark Realm was doing a world of wonder for our situation. "Muraki… you don't believe a word I've said about that other place, do you?"

"Well, in all fairness, Mr. Tsuzuki; something similar happened to me at the cinema in Tokyo." I took advantage of the guardians' dramatically relaxed morals and inched closer to him, using the hand on his leg to encourage both of them to fall across my lap. I was even more surprised when Mr. Tsuzuki inched his bottom closer, angling his bent knees so that his slender feet aligned down the side of my thigh. I pushed my luck further and ran my fingers down past his knee, tucking them just underneath the leg of his khaki shorts and patting his tender skin affectionately. "Someone I knew -a long time ago- appeared to me from out of the mirror and grasped my wrist. I witnessed a vision, something I felt to be an attempt at deluding my confidence in my memories. But it lasted barely a minute, not an hour as you say. And I did not witness any manner of events to the degree that you and Mr. Watari did."

Mr. Tsuzuki inched closer and rested his head against my shoulder, pale fingers falling across my chest. It was so far removed of his character that I entertained the fleeting suspicion that his soul had been traded for another more dissolute personality. But that which he spoke of next gave me an entirely new level of reason to consider this dramatic alteration of his until now unshakable morals.

"When I was there in that dark space, I saw… a you that wasn't you."

I felt my eyebrows furrow and I distended an uncertain resonance, allowing him to continue without interruption of my spoken voice.

"This you… he said that he was the best part of you and that the reason you are the way you are here, is because something terrible happened to you many years ago. Because of these marks on your body… he- the other you- said that it tore your innocence away." I actually felt him laugh against my chest and it was a somewhat cheerful, yet similarly abashed admission. "And you know; I actually kissed that half of you."

My one superior eye widened significantly. "To think you would behave so decadently with the half of me that can benefit nothing from your attentions." I was actually a little affronted by this confession.

The guardian looked up at me, lavender eyes narrowed very faintly, a minor indication of his exasperation at my manner.

"Muraki… there's no need for that attitude. Seeing that other half of you… it made me realize something." He dipped his chin and slid the side of his face against my neck, bringing his arm up to wrap about my neck. He was very nearly perched upon my lap now and the most unexpected aspect of this arrangement was that he appeared sincerely content in being where he was. "That you have done terrible things that can never be forgiven. But you can be excused on account that you are a victim, Muraki. And you … you really have loved me. Ever since you found that picture as a boy, you loved me." I gazed down upon his smiling face; his long lashes lanced shut against the swell of his cheeks. "You may have lied and killed and bullied me from Hell to high water but you never lied about your feelings for me."

I slid my arm around his shoulders and pulled him in tight, tucking my chin over the crown of his head, bringing my own eyes to a close. Darkness meandered in but I did not lose sense of anything, not like I had those previous times in which I had casually allowed the shadows to occupy my mind and thoughts. This was a peaceful blindness, a willing surrender.

"Mr. Tsuzuki…"

"Muraki, I'm going to put on a movie." The guardian pulled himself away gently, using my shoulder to push himself to his feet. "I… I need to take my mind off of the things I saw tonight. But first, I wanna call Watari and see if he's okay."

I stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of my pant material. "Well then, I suppose I should be on my way. Thankyou again for your _warm_ hospitality, Mr. Tsuzuki."

I made to move past him but he reached out to me and placed his hand upon my arm, halting my exit.

"You can… you can stay… if you want." He didn't smile, didn't meet my eyes. He was still ashamed and that would perhaps never change. "I just don't feel like… being alone. Not after all this."

I had to consciously relax my features to hold back the smile that was threatening to break through. Mr. Tsuzuki was likely to retreat from me, should I have made my pleasure at his submission obvious. Subtlety was hardly in my nature and I'm sure I have already mentioned this but behaving in such an overtly benign fashion was the most assured approach to conveying the both of us to a place of much anticipated carnal delights. The trouble was, my patience (not to mention my libido) was beginning to run exceptionally thin. Diet soda thin. Skim milk thin. And it wasn't as though I was able to vent my internal frustrations in a satisfying slaughter, such as I may once have done. Perhaps I could get into an argument with Oriya about something inconsequential that would ultimately terminate in him screaming at me in Spanish (A second language somehow instilled within him during high school) and beating the phone against the cabinet upon which it was set. I am rephrasing of course the most violent and passionate conversation we had ever embarked upon and I was immensely proud of stirring such an emotional response from him, over the seemingly inconsequential topic that had been his girlfriend at the time.

Oriya hated being dictated to regarding his love life. I suppose that deep down he realizes of course, that he is prone to dating, how does one politely say duds?

**Oriya**

One politely refrains from saying it. It'll save me the trouble of dislocating my arms in the effort to bring my fists down over ones cranium.

**Muraki**

My, what a remarkable display of petulancy. I simply must commend you on such a mature response my friend… by moving this portion of the story along. And I must insist that _you_ desist in your attempts to rip your wrists free from those cuffs before you do yourself considerable injury.

Since then, I had often hoped to inspire the same degree of passion from Oriya (A good verbal spar always did wonders for improving my mood, whenever sex or violence were unavailable to me) and I could only come close by speaking candidly of the company he currently kept. Desiring an outlet that night and having none of my usual options to fall back on, I offered to make a phone call to Kokakuro to check on Mr. Watari's condition and to additionally drive Oriya up the wall.

Instead of phoning the front desk (it was especially late after all) I put the call directly through to Oriya's private line. The phone itself was situated by his bedside. It would have trilled directly in his ear, no doubt giving him a rather unpleasant wake up sensation. Being the astute fellow he is, only one solid ring was emitted before he picked up and then immediately brought the receiver back down, counter attacking with a decidedly rude dial tone. I redialed the number and this time, Oriya must have bothered to check caller ID (he possibly did so during the first call but had hung up on me just to be vindictive). Don't be offended, dear friend. I was ignorant of Mr. Watari's delicate constitution at the time, I tell this as it appeared to me at the moment.

"You'd better have a damn good reason for calling this time of night." Oriya's deep groggy voice was not amused, to say the least. "And if this is concerning your successful acquisition of your Potpourri eyed squeak toys butt, then I'll be hanging up so damn hard it's going to break your ear drums wide open."

"Oi… that's my pal you're talkin' 'bout there…" Mr. Watari was apparently close at hand. Close enough that his voice was distinctively clear down the line, so that possibly implied that he was concernedly close to Oriya. Too close for my comfort, especially at this time of night.

"Oriya, is Mr. Watari sleeping in your bed?" I queried, sounding decidedly like a severe father who had just found his teenage son in a compromising situation. I knew Oriya hated when I treated him in this fashion. The only thing he hated more was my dictating his love life and making a reference to his lack of extended education. If I could have brought them all into the conversation it would be a hatrick. "After your self righteous dictations regarding my choice of evening companion at Kokakuro, you turn about and do the exact same thing! _'It's a brothel! Buy a woman! A __**woman!**_**'**" I had of course been referring to the incident in Kyoto when Oriya had gone consistently brutish after discovering that I had brought Mr. Tsuzuki back to my stay room. My head still throbbed occasionally from where he had planted his big Kyoto feet against my skull. Ah, that Oriya. Ever the hypocrite.

Shut up. It's true.

"He had an accident, so I decided it would be best that he stay with me for the remainder of the night." Oriya growled back defensively. I could already hear the weariness vanishing from his voice. "And am I somehow obliged to explain myself to you?"

"Well, excuse me for taking an interest in my friends relationships." I quaffed, making sure he fully registered the offended tenor to my voice. "But just out of curiosity, what sort of accident are we speaking of here? Is it perhaps that manner of incident that could perhaps be better remedied by a fresh set of sheets and a carton of pull ups?"

"Muraki… get your trap shut 'fore I come over there and… slap the taste right out your mouth." I didn't realize exactly how much Mr. Watari was privy to in our conversation but it was apparently every sound syllable. They _were _very close. I heard Oriya shush him before turning his attention back to me.

"Look, this is hardly the time for a chin wag Muraki, so is there something I can help you with?" He sounded reluctant and I could very well imagine him wincing inwardly as he opened the floodgate. "And keep your smart comments to a minimum, if you please. Yutaka's very unwell and we have both had a tiresome evening."

"I'll bet." It was out of my mouth before I could think to stop myself and I very nearly incurred the wrath of Oriya's abrupt termination for the second time that night. "I apologize. It must be reflex thing with me. Regarding this phone call, I am sincerely sorry for disturbing you at such an hour but something rather troublesome occurred and Mr. Tsuzuki requires an audience with your Mr. Watari."

"Can't it wait until morning?" Oriya was not usually so puerile, thus I wagered that the situation leading to his accountable weariness must have been more severe then he was letting on. Perhaps there was more validity to what Tsuzuki spoke of then I had allowed myself to accept.

Mr. Watari interrupted him and his voice was even groggier with the craggy weight of his fatigue. "Oriya… it's okay I wanna… wanna speak with him… too. K? You can… put 'im on…" His accent was even sloppier than usual and the majority of his sentence was slurred. Something was certainly not right there. I assumed he was drunk or something to that affect and from what you have told me since Mr. Watari, I was not entirely incorrect either. Yes, I did not miss that you were drugged and next time, you should say no. Choose life, my boy. Find a natural high instead.

I was merely jesting, there's no need to look so angry. Moving right along.

Oriya didn't question Mr. Watari for reconsideration because this would have taken greater effort in repeating his intentions. He is not a wasteful man, Oriya Mibu and I'm sure he understood very well that the blond needed to save what strength he had.

"I'll put the phone on speaker. That way you can just talk and not have to worry where the receiver is." Oriya set about making this arrangement and I opted to do the same, gratified and almost a little surprised to find that Mr. Tsuzuki's phone was capable of performing such a function. I ushered the guardian in close and he perched on the counter stool, dipping his head in as close to the phone as possible. He didn't seem to understand the simplicity in using the speakerphone because he shouted just about every word.

"Are you okay, Watari?!" He bellowed directly into the speaker. I could just see Oriya twitching on the far side of the line and then I realized that this would be the first time he would be hearing the voice of my beloved. It was something of a defining moment but neither man took it for the honor that it deserved.

"Naw, it's fine now, Tsuzuki. What about you, man? You make it out okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's okay now! I'm so glad you're all right!" Tsuzuki sounded rather teary and after hearing what he and Mr. Watari had actually endured in that other place, I can't say I'm at all surprised. "Watari, I thought I should tell you, since it seems to concern your current investigation; Muraki and I were in the Tokyo cinema going on a week back. We were attacked by one of Mitkiel's demons; Balban the Daemon of Delusion."

"_Balban?_" I sensed the recognition in the scientists' voice. "According to Ichibana… that's… one of the names on the sigil… But why would he involve you guys…?"

"I think the more important question is, what should we do about Mitkiel?" Tsuzuki said, scratching his head distractedly. His eyes were falling shut with the weight of approaching sleep. "Do you think we should report what happened tonight to the Ministry?"

The blond hefted a deep sigh, extinguishing a great degree of his lethargy in that one exhalation.

"If Mitkiel is in some way… responsible for the murders here… it will fall under my responsibilities in this… investigation. I'll get Gushoushin… to file a report to the Summons Section. Konoe might confer with you… but unless it happens again, you should probably leave it up… to me…"

"What are you talking about?" This was Oriya. "Did something else happen tonight? Something concerning the girls?"

"Oriya… I'll clue ya in… tomorrow. Please?" He was very tired, I could tell. Oriya knew this because he stayed silent and did not press the issue, though it clearly weighed on his mind. He cared for those women in his employ, as though they were children, rather than glorified prostitutes. That he had not yet determined beyond reasonable doubt who was responsible for their deaths, it must have been driving his heart crazy.

Tsuzuki was quiet for a moment and then he leant extra close, raising his voice to its broadcasting volume. "Mr. Mibu? I'm Asato Tsuzuki."

"That much I figured." Was the terse, though not discourteous reply. Tsuzuki chuckled, able to interpret the subtlety that was always present in Oriya's speech and sense the good humor underlying. That's how I chose to construe it, anyway. Not that he giggled like a schoolgirl.

"You have a really nice voice," the guardian observed, his own voice becoming a tad dreamier then I liked. I suppose my expression faithfully relayed my thoughts on the matter because one brief glance at my face was enough to shake Tsuzuki back to reality. His eyes widened and he very nearly slipped from his counter stool. "Um… anyway. Please take good care of Watari for me, Mr. Mibu. He's kind of hopeless if left to his own devices. And I mean that with the utmost respect and affection."

"Yeah… well. When I tell you to go get stuffed… know that I mean that with the utmost… respect… and affection." Put upon though he was, you couldn't say Mr. Watari wasn't quick witted. I could hear Oriya chortling from that side of the line. He must have been fairly smitten because I couldn't say with certainty what other person was capable of eliciting such a positive reaction from the duplicitous old fart. And Oriya, I mean that with the utmost respect and affection.

"Mr. Tsuzuki, you can place your trust in me." Oriya assured and I was forced to smack Mr. Tsuzuki's arm as that wistful expression stole over his features again. He looked at me startled, not realizing he had been losing himself to Oriya's unintentional charms.

"Tsuzuki, we'll talk tomorrow. I'll give ya a call, k?" Mr. Watari's voice was progressively becoming more somnolent by the moment and I could tell how taxing this had all been on him. Whatever _this _might be satisfactorily defined as. "G'night. Glad you're safe."

"Yeah. You too, man." Tsuzuki ran a hand across his forehead, clearly relieved that his friend was safe for the time being. The effect that this affirmation had on him was dramatic. The color reentered his face, animating his previously lax features. "Good night. Sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Mibu."

Oriya assured him that his concern was nothing he need apologize for and Mr. Tsuzuki once again got that contented expression on his face, so I decided that was the choice moment to annul the conversation. My goodbye may have been a little brusque but at least I bothered to finalize my conversation before knocking down the button on the machine, terminating the call. Mr. Tsuzuki didn't notice this so much; he was simply overwhelmed in his relief.

"Thank God for that…" He whispered, clutching the fabric of his sleep shirt between his fists and shutting his eyes, taking a controlled breath in order to release the tension clearly built up within his body. "Whatever happens now… at least I can relax until then. Now I know Watari is safe."

"And will remain so." I guaranteed, pulling distractedly at a loose thread sticking up from the arm of Tsuzuki's sofa. Bits of foam and fabric were bursting free from a variety of tears, rendered ill upon the furniture due to the course of age. Either interior decorating was the bottom of his list of priorities, or his pay cheque had been even more modest then I had been led to believe. "Oriya is a very strong and protective man. Should he take someone under his wing, you can rest assured that they will be the most protected person in the entire world. Now," I established, patting the space beside me as lavishly as one might divest an elegant gesture upon such an undeserving source. "Enough about them. You have had an upsetting experience tonight. Why don't we put that movie on and you can set your mind at rest."

The guardian smiled and gave an indulging shrug. "Yeah, I'm not used to working it as much as I have tonight. Time to just-" He swayed his arms out before himself. "-switch off and veg out."

I allowed myself that luxury and stretched my arms out along the top of the sofa, chancing the most appropriate seductive smile I was capable of. I'm sure it still appeared leering by Mr. Tsuzuki's account. "By all means, _do_."

The guardian blushed slightly as he made his embarrassed way over to crouch down before the television cabinet. He was truly delightful when discomfited. I watched with affection as he fossicked through his collection of videotapes, tossing each rejected article in a messy pile off to the side. I maintained a polite smile at the title he finally approved; an old Charlie Chaplin film. I reminded myself of just how old Tsuzuki truly was and that he would be more inclined to favor a movie of such nature. I suppose he figured that this was a treat for me also; as I was granted permission to bring my arm about his shoulder once he had started the tape and settled down on the couch beside me. He sat tight against my side but didn't curl his legs up, leaving them hanging over the edge of the couch, hands folded in his lap as though he might jump up at any moment. I couldn't say that this looked very relaxed to me but perhaps he felt more comfortable sitting away from me, rather than close. I allowed for it, because that was what he wanted. And for the time being at least, that was all that mattered.

We sat through the movie, Mr. Tsuzuki pointing out his favorite scenes to me and providing a running commentary of the time he had first seen the movie in the 1920's. The film was black and white and entirely silent, the majority of humor centered on the bodacious body language of the actor. It wasn't necessarily something I could bring myself to enjoy but it made Mr. Tsuzuki happy and kept his mind far removed from those horrific images he had been confronted with. Halfway into the movie, he was actually smiling and he brought his legs up to curl beneath his body, tentatively resting one arm around my middle.

"Hey Muraki…" He suddenly piped up, voice timidly approaching my attention. "I was just wondering… have you… have you ever been in a serious relationship… with a man before?"

I considered my words carefully before I spoke them. "I have never loved a man, if that is what you mean. But then again, I have never truly loved a woman either. Only you-" I ran my fingers up the line of his chin, lifting it slightly. "-have ever been in my heart. But that is to be expected, Mr. Tsuzuki. You are exceptional."

The guardian seemed satisfied by my response. He moved closer, resting his cheek against my chest. "Forty years back, that was when I experienced forbidden love for the first time." He flashed me a look that I could only describe as coy. "He was a member of the Containment Section of the Judgment Bureau; immortals primarily responsible for dealing with any supernatural exploits that threatens to disrupt normal human activity. For a short period of time we were partnered together. He was my second partner." He held up two fingers and examined them with something of a bitter air, before dropping them back down against the wall of my chest. "His name was Orakiku but I used to just call him Aki for short. Being with him kind of made me feel like I was in a high school relationship, though I have no prior knowledge to compare this to of course. He was tall and he had messy sort of hair and when you first met him, you thought he was kind of shy. But once you got to know him, you realized what a quietly confident person he was." He nuzzled up against me, eyes shut in order to return upon that memory. "I guess you can tell, we never actually eh, _did it_. He only ever tried to touch me once down there and I totally freaked out. I still don't know why… I guess I was kind of scared because I was falling in love with him and the idea of giving myself over entirely well… it's scary."

He looked up imploringly at me. "You know what I'm saying? I've held myself back for so long that now… I'm scared of letting go of it. You understand?"

I nodded. "I understand." Yes, I understood but I wasn't happy about it.

The movie ended and Tsuzuki shifted to the edge of the couch, stretching his arms up high above his head, groaning with the effort.

"Ah… I love that movie. Always makes me feel better." He looked back at me, his expression no longer serene but alternatively shifted into the gear of caution that was his cruising speed in my presence. The trauma of his experience had finally worn off and it would seem he was coming to his senses, which was thoroughly disappointing. It was as though he were shaking free the effects of hypnotism, falling out of a lulling trance that kept him docile and receptive to my attentions. "I'm uh… I'm gonna go… use the toilet. Would you mind switching the VCR off? And the T.V?"

I waved an obliging hand. "It's no bother to me, Mr. Tsuzuki." I assured, using that same hand to help push the Guardian to his feet. My feeding that night had instilled additional strength within my body, such to the degree that I very nearly pitched Mr. Tsuzuki face first into the coffee table. He shot me a filthy look over his shoulder as he stumbled toward the bathroom and I couldn't contain the dissatisfied sigh that ejected from my lips. It had been nice while it lasted…

"Be careful in there." I advised as I knelt before the television, popping out the video and placing it back inside its' plastic cover. Late night news was on but I had no particular yearning to touch on the real world right then. The problems of others seemed thoroughly inconsequential, more so than they usually did.

Attaining my desire with Mr. Tsuzuki was taking far longer than I had hoped. I needed to make some sort of formidable breakthrough in our relationship. We were moving in baby steps, when we should have been taking long, determined strides. No… baby steps gave our situation far too much credibility. Ours was an immensely progress retarded baby, that when forced to move only crawled languidly onward and stopped to examine every shiny object along the way.

I had known Mr. Tsuzuki for the greater part of a year and though he had justifiable reasons to be refuting my advances, I couldn't help but find it severely distressing that after only one week Oriya was sharing the same bed with _his _guardian of death.

If only Mr. Tsuzuki were as easy as Yutaka Watari.

You know that one is true.

There was only one course of remedy for this and it was vital that I implemented it right away.

Being the charitable person I was, I made sure to switch off all the lights in the kitchen, sitting area and hallway before making my way into Mr. Tsuzuki's bedroom. Without giving myself time to reconsider the possible consequences of such a bold action, I went ahead with removing my shoes and trousers and climbed beneath the newly made sheets of Mr. Tsuzuki's bed. My glasses still rested on the bedside, so I was all settled in for the night.

Mr. Tsuzuki trotted in a minute later, humming thoughtfully to himself and combing his unruly hair back out of his eyes. His foremost response to my smiling presence propped against the pillows was to stare at me with gaping eyes.

"I said you could stay for the movie!" He finally ejaculated; slamming both clenched fists down the line of his sides in the manner of a spoilt child.

I lifted my head and stared at him from over the rise of the sheets. "Yes. And as a result I am now far too tired to drive. I assume you are a kind enough host to allow me to spend the night?"

The guardians' cheeks flushed a most comely cherry pink and he spent an entire minute bumbling over his words, spluttering and carrying on. I used the delay to rid myself of my shirt, dropping it into an untidy bundle on the floor. This only further escalated Mr. Tsuzuki's discomfort. His blush was now spreading downward beneath his chin and onto his neck.

"You can't-! I mean, this is – I don't-" He gave his head a determined shake as though to clear it and then spun about, putting his back to me and speaking to the far wall instead. "Okay well… considering what happened tonight… maybe it's not such a bad idea that you… stay. But!" He leveled a pointed finger at me over his shoulder. "You are not sleeping in the same place that I am."

I took a moment to run this through my mind. "Very well," I said, tucking the blankets tighter about myself and nestling in as deeply as possible. "I must say, that's terribly gracious of you, Mr. Tsuzuki."

"Gracious?" He inquired of the wall, cocking his head to the side in that uniquely adorable canine manner.

"To offer to sleep on the couch." I smiled provocatively at him, the effort not going to waste as he turned just in time to catch my expression. His cheeks were now flushing with a newly instigated emotion.

"Excuse _me _but I don't recall ever making such a promise! _You _were the one who turned up uninvited tonight, so it's _your _butt on the couch!"

The couch. The _couch. _The last time that I had ever slept on a _couch _had been in University after a heavy night of drinking. But that had been a little over ten years ago. My back certainly wasn't what it used to be. Not to mention the whole idea of spending the night on that weathered piece of almost furniture seemed just a little on the nose to a man who owned a luxurious King sized bed.

"That's a little less than hospitable." I stated, making no move to remove myself from my comfortable place of rest. Even Mr. Tsuzuki's bed was a little smaller then I might normally consider agreeable but the charm wasn't in the size of the mattress but how it would require the two of us to sleep practically atop one another.

Tsuzuki perched his hands atop his slender hips. "Too bad. My apartment, my rules. Don't like it, go home to your four-poster bed. Sleep in the car for all I care."

I resigned myself to the inevitable; that I would not be permitted to share the company of my beloved beneath the sheets that _I _had placed upon the bed in the first place. I had no choice but to respect his wishes if I hoped to garner his trust in the near foreseeable future. So it was with great reluctance, that I pried my weary, aching body out of the warm nook I had created for myself and slouched for the bedroom door where Tsuzuki stood waiting, head inclined towards the ceiling in that typical expression of haughty disinterest that any man might alternatively recognize in a woman. Not easily defined, it can be most sufficiently interpreted to mean 'I'm-not-talking-to-you'. Usually employed when the person doing it is in a position to be authoritative. It was not an expression Mr. Tsuzuki had ever employed with me before now and I found myself suddenly concerned that I was giving him too great of control over our relationship. There is a term for this… 'being whipped'. It seemed very appropriate to me and I felt decidedly less masculine as a result of it.

I stopped beside Mr. Tsuzuki and smiled down at him with a cryptic expression that I knew he would find difficult to define. I wanted to disturb him a little, shake up his escalating confidence in dealing with me.

"Goodnight, Mr. Tsuzuki." I grabbed him impulsively by the shoulders and pulled him taught against the rigid line of my body, ignoring his gasped exclamation as I brought my mouth down roughly against his. His muffled indignations eventually relaxed, as did his body posture and he briefly returned my kiss, bringing his hand to rest along the side of my neck, following my release of his arms. Just before he grew too comfortable with it, I pulled my mouth free, eliciting a startled yelp from the guardian at the abruptness of my closure. He gazed after me with thirsting eyes as I squeezed past him to enter the hallway, his hand squeezing my wrist for just a moment.

"Night." He stated firmly, forcing the gentle tone from his voice so that he sounded harsh and detached instead. I heard the door click shut behind me, more tender than his voice had been.

I made up the couch with spare sheets from the closest and tried to set my mind to rest. It wasn't easy, especially with the object of my desires residing mere meters from where my own head lay and me unable to do a thing about it. The silence I did appreciate and it provided me the opportunity to consider a few matters with greater ease. I spent an indecently sustained period of time mulling over the possibility of progressing on toward a truly intimate relationship with Mr. Tsuzuki. He had confessed to me that the idea of making love was of some concern to him and had all but insinuated that he might not be ready for some time but in all selfishness, I was hanging from the edge of my constraints by one bare fingertip. Perhaps when things had settled down a little, I could sit him down and have a frank discussion regarding the possibility of initiating a sex life between the two of us. The sooner the better. Then, once I had attained my desire, I could return to my comfortable routine, in which I needn't concern myself with taking Mr. Tsuzuki's delicate constitution into consideration. Where I could behave violently and take what I wanted.

Once Tsuzuki had willingly submitted to me, nothing following that surrender would matter. After that, I would take him whenever the need stole over me. But not until he first submitted because _that _was true power. _That _was winning. And the only way I could ever be free of that insipid desire for him, my only true weakness, was for him to relinquish himself unto me entirely. To stop running. To give up.

To watch him destroy himself by his desire for the one who had taken all and everything of so many people.

A matter such as this could not be rushed but how I longed for it. I ached for the freedom I would gain once the act was complete. And I ached with such weak sincerity for the wanton desire of Tsuzuki's sinewy body beneath my own, that one insatiable moment in which I would bring my passion to its glorious fruition and break inside of him, to touch that place that none other had ever gained the rights unto.

What a cruel punishment love is. That I could only but submit to Mr. Tsuzuki's will and withhold my own wants and needs until such a time that I was permitted to indulge in them.

These thoughts kept my mind busy but after some time I found myself drifting away against the lumpy throw pillow I had propped beneath my temple, only to divulge in dark dreams. It seemed as though I had barely sunk a foot beneath the waves of unconscious slumber, when grasping fingers plunged beneath the surface and dragged me upward into the waking air. I groaned disapprovingly, attempting to swat the persistent interruption aside but sleep fled from whomever had disturbed it, the most easily frightened of all the bodily sensations. I had never been a particularly deep sleeper. I perhaps have mentioned this previously but due to my lifestyle, it had been a requirement that I learned to sleep with one eye open. (Literally, that is. My mechanical eye requires no moisture, so I am able to sleep with the lid peeled back, if I feel it necessary to remain vigilant during the night). I grumbled disgustedly as I opened my one true eye, sweeping back my hair so that I could see what had woken me up.

Mr. Tsuzuki jerked back from the sight of my mechanical eye, glowing red in the darkness of the living room. He quickly regained control of his nerves and tightened his hands around the sheet he'd wrapped about his body, making him resemble a small child who had come running to the bedside of their sleeping parent after a bad dream had woken them. He even had a soft toy under one arm, though where he had acquired such an article I cannot even imagine.

**Tsuzuki**

Uh, they were Kazusa's leftovers. … Really.

…

… Stop looking at me!

**Muraki**

Yes well, moving right along…

"Is something the matter, Mr. Tsuzuki?" I enquired. I half expected him to ask me to get up and prepare him a glass of water. Or get me to change his sheets again.

The guardian looked downright embarrassed by seeking me out. He stared down at the floor as though it were the most fascinating enigma he had ever come across. He scuffed his bare feet across the carpet and squeezed the stuffed bear against his chest so tight I feared for the poor faux animals safety.

"Can't sleep…" He finally muttered, sounding far put upon for the indecency of insomnia and a mind that was working at a far greater capacity than anyone had come to expect of it.

I nodded, pondering the fastest method in which to resolve this and still rack in a few solid hours sleep.

"Still can't get those thoughts out of your head?" I asked, sitting up a little and prying my head out of the indent I had since made in the throw pillow. I could already feel my neck cramping in the uncomfortable position it had been tilted at. "Just… try to relax, Mr. Tsuzuki. Think of something that cheers you up. Think of your dear speech impaired friend Charlie Chaplin. Think of-"

He must have already run through my offer of brilliant suggestions and found each one to be less effective then the one before it because the next second, I found the guardians long, beautiful hand wrapping around my own and divesting an encouraging tug upon it. I looked up into his face, attempting to breach his eye contact but he was having none of it. His attention was directed downwards.

"Mr. Tsuzuki… would you like me to…?" I didn't finish my question for fear of further embarrassing him. It was relatively clear what he wanted and his childlike demeanor inadvertently touched me. With a satisfied sigh, I extricated myself from my makeshift bed and allowed myself to be led back along the dark hallway and into the closed confines of the guardians closet like bedroom. Bringing the sheet back on top of himself, Mr. Tsuzuki stretched out across the once white mattress, scooting over just enough to imply that I might fill that space should I desire to do so. I doubted he would ever be capable of confessing his true feelings, to me at least. But perhaps it would do for now.

I set myself down alongside him, pulling the number of since twisted sheets into place atop our bodies. Glancing down, I could see the guardians beautiful eyes wide open against the impending darkness and his expression did not change from this troubled tone when I chanced unspoken permission to bring my arm around his middle, curling my legs up beneath the line of his curved body. Mr. Tsuzuki rested one arm beneath his pillow, fingertips bent slightly down towards the flat of his palm. The other arm he tentatively rested atop mine, pressing his fingers down between the gaps of my own.

I pressed a kiss beneath his hairline and whispered softly into his ear. "Go to sleep now."

I heard his lips part wetly in the dark. "Muraki… thankyou."

"For what?" I asked, instructing both my eyes to shut. The bed was small but it was certainly a great deal more comfortable than the couch. Not to mention the additional bonus of Mr. Tsuzuki's presence. I felt very contented and sleep pulled more insistently on me then ever.

"For just… waiting."

I couldn't help but smirk a little at this. '_Thanks for waiting,' _indeed. Oh, if only you realize what a trial you've been Mr. Tsuzuki! I forced myself to stay awake until the sound of the guardians breathing leveled off. It did not take long. Evidently, I made him feel safe and I suppose you could ask for no greater protector, then your former most formidable enemy, could you not? Only then, did I permit that fey mistress sleep to have her way with me and I surrendered to her dark arms to wander the pathways of the night, void of one discernable image to take with myself to the waking hour.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

I got up very early the next morning, which was the norm for me anyway. Mr. Tsuzuki was fast asleep, emotionally drained by his experiences the night before and I had not the heart to wake him. His alarm was set for 7:00 am and his intended arrival time at the Ministry was 8:30 and since the sun itself had only started its' weary climb above the hills, I estimated that there was plenty of time for him to rest. Never mind how weary his mind was, my feeding was likely to have physically drained him also and it was necessary for him to 'recharge' in a sense. The more sleep he got, the better.

I was tempted to remain by his side for longer but the morning required greater attention from me than usual and I had not a second to waste. Extricating myself from the guardians' warm side, I gingerly left the comfort of the bed and made my cautious way over towards the corner of the room, where I had noticed a messily compiled lump of clothing belonging formally to myself. I had leant them to Mr. Tsuzuki the night of our most unfortunate date at the cinema. It would do for the time being, at least until I could change back in the comfort of my own home. I slipped into the tight trousers and buttoned the shirt up around my torso, slipping on my glasses out of habit. I could hear rain softly falling from outside and when I peeked through the gap in the curtains; an overcast sky was there to greet me. It had been some time since Tokyo had seen rain and though it offered not the most pleasant of days, I suppose I did enjoy the irony of it.

Mr. Tsuzuki snuffled and rolled over to face the side of the bed in which I had been previously residing. His nose twitched and he smacked his lips a bit, before finally becoming settled again. Then he resumed snoring.

Tsuzuki 

I do _not _snore! Cute guys like me do _not _snore!

Muraki 

I apologize for shattering your delusion Mr. Tsuzuki but you are a rather vocal sleeping companion. Now, don't pout like that. You look ever so adorable when you sulk, Mr. Tsuzuki, have I ever told you that? Yes, I'm sure I have. Countless times in fact. Let that be on the record then; just so we're clear that I am not remiss of the obvious.

Now, where was I? Ah yes, having assured myself that the sweet-natured guardian would not be arising for some time, I set about undertaking my morning errands. First, I brushed my teeth. Personal hygiene is a must, especially for a doctor. Having no other alternative I used Mr. Tsuzuki's toothbrush and there was something terribly intimate in that, though I didn't stint on it for long. Following this, I refolded the sheets I had made short use of during the night and put them away within the storage cabinet. Then I removed some choice garments from Mr. Tsuzuki's closet, in preparation for his day ahead. They were decidedly wrinkled, so I took it upon myself to iron them, not surprised to find that the iron and ironing board were both distinctly dusty. Having set Mr. Tsuzuki's immediate chores to rights, I set about correcting my own agenda and made a call into the hospital and managed to negotiate a personal day at the very last minute. I claimed family tragedy, something that I look back at now and find delightfully ironic. In consideration of the conspiring events, of course.

I made a number of additional phone calls. I managed to rustle up a repairman who was willing to drop by in the later part of the evening to replace the sheet glass of the shower that had been damaged the night before. I also contacted my antiques scout and asked that he might keep an eye out for a handsome full-length mirror that might compliment the face of a creature aesthetically pleasing enough for me to fall in love with. No expense spared.

My errands having been completed, I allowed myself the liberty of a cup of coffee. Mocha, typically enough. That Asato… chocolate obsessed would be too light a classification to adequately describe him, that is for certain!

I had just set myself down at the kitchen isle and was sipping my coffee whilst reviewing the previous days newspaper, when my cell phone rang from its nighttime roost on the living room table. I dismounted the counter stool and darted for the table, hoping to cease the infernal droning before it awakened Mr. Tsuzuki from his sound slumber. It was fortunate the man was such a deep sleeper, the ring tone being loud enough to wake the dead; if you'll excuse the terrible pun.

I snatched the phone up and slammed the receive button, halting the incessant thing mid-ring. I pushed it against my ear, swishing my excessively long bangs aside to keep them from obstructing communication.

"Kazutaka Muraki speaking," I answered, my voice still groggy with sleep. I cleared my throat, though didn't bother repeating myself.

"Didn't wake you, did I?" Came the smooth, slightly haughty voice from the speaker. I suppressed a groan, recognizing who it was immediately. One of my least favorite people, one with whom I had long maintained a hearty grudge.

Asuoko Mibu, one of Oriya's two younger sisters. The eldest twin, to be precise. A well-known and popular singer/actress, who remained just obscure enough to keep her face out of the majority of tabloids. Her most recent role was as the lead female character in some television thriller series. Something or rather from the darkness, I can't recall the exact title. She was only a bare inch shorter than I, with the same waist length dark hair as Oriya, though her generous feminine proportions and magnificently toned body provided that she was a beauty without equal. (Dismissing her twin and two brothers naturally. The Mibu clan is a pricelessly exquisite family, though I think that is quite obvious by this stage. And yes, you had best be flattered Oriya.) That was how she appeared to the rest of the world at least. To those of us who had grown up with her and knew her best, Asuoko was only years removed from her involvement in a duplicitous street gang, where she had become idiotically involved with the abusive male head, who had left her pregnant and half dead by the riverside of her hometown Himeji. As a result of this former treatment, she was now a tough as nails, conceited lesbian, living with her long time girlfriend and five year old son.

We had never gotten along; she and I. We'd had our differences. And I might have inadvertently slipped and made a less then polite interpretation of her sexuality once or twice. This could very well have been the key source of the animosity, though who's to tell now?

"Miss Mibu. What can I do for you?" I asked, polite as ever. Perhaps she noticed my brusque tone but chose to dismiss it. Whatever she had called me about had to have been important, otherwise she would not have brought herself to do it.

"Muraki, I've had a feeling concerning Ukyou." She said it lightly but I caught her meaning. All the Mibu clan possessed some manner of a 'disability' though Oriya's was the more pronounced of all the siblings. Asuoko's particular gift was the ability to sense the distance disturbances of her kin; in so saying, she was able to recognize a dangerous signature encroaching upon family members. This could have been real physical danger or something as cryptic as emotional or mental turmoil. The Mibu's certainly stand-alone when it comes to obscure nitpicky abilities. "I have spoken with her in the past week and I know the two of you have broken off your engagement."

"Much to your delight, I'm sure." I stated, perhaps a little more tart in my tone then I needed be. The Mibu and Sakagumi families were closely related; Oriya, Asuoko, Chiemi and Kenji Mibu were first cousins of Ukyou. Her father was the sister of the Mibu siblings' mother. Asuoko in particular had cared very much for Ukyou, who had often depended on the strong-minded Mibu daughter for sound advice or a shoulder to lean on during the tough times. I shouldn't have been surprised that I was hearing from Asuoko about this now. She had never approved of me, her ability allowing her to sense the peculiarities of my essence. Though she had no knowledge of my more deviant exploits, she sensed that I was not one who should be so easily trusted. She had made it perfectly clear that she had never been happy that Ukyou and I had been engaged. I'm sure the news of our annulment thrilled Asuoko to no end, though she hid her emotions remarkably well.

"Any matter that brings Ukyou to tears is no cause for me to celebrate." She stated, her voice characteristically hard. I heard a lot of Oriya in her when she spoke in such a tone. "You truly are a cold bastard, aren't you?"

"Did you call just to lecture me about that?" I was feeling tired all over again and the lure of Mr. Tsuzuki's warm bed had increased twofold. "If that's the case then do me a favor and spare me your sermon, Miss Mibu. I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do." She was cross as usual and kept no barbs hidden. "Listen, that's not the reason I have called you. I would only speak to you of circumstances of the utmost importance, you know that. And Ukyou has been terribly upset as of late but that's not reason enough to disturb you. I called her yesterday and she didn't pick up the phone. Today was the same. Ordinarily I wouldn't concern myself over something so trivial but I have sensed something highly irregular in Ukyou's wavelength. That's the reason why I am so concerned you see. My ability has not led me false before."

"You believe something's wrong." I stated, believing this to be something of a rhetorical gesture. But Asuoko seemed unusually serious and she did not pull me up on my needless declaration.

"I believe so. And loath as I am to request help from one with whom I share so minimal rapport; I have little choice right now then to plead assistance from you. Would you be a dear and go to see Ukyou?"

Ukyou was currently living in the city of Nagoya, the capital of the Aichi prefecture. This was somewhat out of the way for me, though to be fair it was about equal driving distance from Himeji, as it was Tokyo.

"This isn't something you can do yourself?" I asked, trying sincerely not to appear rude. I had certainly softened quite a bit since I had intimately familiarized myself with Mr. Tsuzuki. Perhaps the absorption of his essence had left a residual trace of his own temperate personality within my own. There was no harm to this of course; though I could only hope it wouldn't affect my diet. Sweet food was the last thing that my sensitive stomach needed.

"You know that I would but I have my hands full watching Noni and Hana." Noni was Asuoko's illegitimate son; Hana was the daughter of her female partner. "Nanami has work of her own today and I already promised our nurse time off, you see. Additionally, I wish to spend time with the children… they are expecting my company."

"Have you spoken with Oriya of your 'feeling'?" I asked. Out of the four siblings it was Asuoko and Oriya who were closest; they were the only two who engaged in alternative sexual practices and though their parents were very accepting (almost ridiculously so) their Grandparents were a lot more strict and the pair had been forced to keep quiet about their true intentions for years. They'd spent a lot of time confiding in one another and it had established quiet a firm bond between them, though they lived considerably far apart.

"No, I didn't speak with brother. He has enough on his plate at the moment and he would worry."

She was not wrong in saying so. Oriya and Asuoko both felt very protective over Ukyou; the girl having been sick and weakly since she had been very small and requiring a great deal of attention. Over the years her condition had worsened and despite my efforts, I had been unable to find a suitable cure for her condition. Ukyou… she had her good days and her bad days. At first I assumed that Asuoko's 'feeling' was attributed perhaps to one of Ukyou's turns.

"She hasn't been well lately." Asuoko continued, sounding somewhat hassled now. I could hear the sounds of the children running about boisterously in the background. "She doesn't seem like herself either. She's even grown her hair out and you know how accustomed she's been to wearing it short. Ever since we were children… Well anyway, I would appreciate you taking the time. I think it would do her good to see you. She still has very strong feelings for you, for whatever the reason."

"Please. You mustn't be so generous in your praise." I said, fighting back the weariness that had suddenly assailed my body. The idea of speaking with Ukyou made me feel tired all over again. "Look, if it will give you peace of mind, I shall go and call on her. Would you like me to contact you afterwards?"

"If you would be so inclined." I think she meant for this to be a biting remarked aimed at me, but her tone was far too concerned to effectively pull it off. "I'd like to know that she is all right."

I sighed, wriggling my mechanical eye in the socket. It was a little stiffer than normal that morning.

"I'll be sure to do that, Miss Mibu. I will speak with you then."

We ended the conversation and I returned to my dramatically cooling cup of coffee, sipping from it whilst contemplating the possibility of how the day might unfold. Conveniently enough I had found a way of removing myself from the city at a time in which I needed to be absent. I could only hope that Mr. Tsuzuki was able to compose himself capably in my absence. Faking emotion was certainly not his strong point.

As though awakened by my thoughts, the guardian himself saw fit to rouse himself and came shuffling out of the hallway, eyes half lidded and hair a tousled mess. At first he jumped upon sighting me but then seemed to recall that I was here of his own consent and relaxed again, emitting a loud, indulging yawn.

"Good morning." I told him, registering the affection in my voice as I spoke. "I trust you slept well once I had you in my arms? Right Mr. Tsuzuki?"

He blushed faintly at my reminder of his actions the previous night. He had been so adorable with that needy expression looking down upon me, that blanket wadded tightly about his slender body… how could I be expected to avoid such a delicious topic?

"It was fine after that. Thanks." It was gracious for him, so I accepted it for the minimal gesture that it was. Mr. Tsuzuki stepped into the kitchenette and made himself a cup of coffee with the leftover water that I had previously boiled. There were bags under his eyes, though they hardly served to render him unseemly. He appeared more human if anything. "When things at the Bureau have cooled off a bit, I think I'll bring the information I've found out about to their attentions. It might just be enough to get them to-"

"To what?" I asked, meaning for it to sound impartial. It came out sharp and challenging instead.

Mr. Tsuzuki lowered his eyes a little, leaning back against the sink and dipping his face down towards his steaming mug. His eyes were as misty as the fog that lifted from the hot beverage.

"To… see you differently." He finished lamely, taking an inadvisably heady sip from his coffee and burning his tongue as a result. I scoffed at his attitude, disliking it immensely that he now viewed me as being some sort of pathetic victim, rather than a complete and whole person. It annoyed me, though I cannot explain exactly why.

"Mr. Tsuzuki, I am not a victim. What you saw last night… was deception and should be left at that. To think more on it is ridiculous. Not to mention an utter waste of time." I flipped the page of the newspaper, briefly glancing over an article detailing soil erosion in Uchiko.

The guardians' eyes narrowed considerably and he took his weight back off of the cabinet, daring me to meet his gaze. I did so. I found his expression to be hardly intimidating, I'm sorry to say.

"God dammit! I know I'm uneducated and I know I'm unworldly but I'm not stupid or unread, Muraki! I wish people would realize this! I'm not being naïve in believing what I saw last night to be true, am I?"

I smiled without humor. "Do you require an honest answer? Or do you simply wish for me to say whatever it is that you _want _to hear?"

He growled audibly. "Be honest with me. I deserve that much, right?"

"Well sure. I can offer you that." I closed the newspaper completely and lifted my mug with both hands, holding it up just beneath my chin and gently blowing the heat from the surface of the liquid. "Mr. Tsuzuki, deception is the greater part of a demons artillery. You offer them that trust in what they show you and you supply them with the ammunition necessary to continue feeding that weapon. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"

"Yes." He looked adorably annoyed by my reasoning and I couldn't help but love him all the more for it. "You're saying that I was being tricked and I fell for it. Hook line and sinker."

I smiled heartily at him, raising my cup in a friendly gesture. "Darling, there is no shame in that. These demons… it is what they do and believe me; I understand demonic behavior patterns all too intimately."

The guardian looked at me challengingly. "I can prove it was real! Watari was there too! I can get him to vouch for me-"

"Then you can prove that you are both gullible fools." I supplied, setting down the cup and easing my rear off of the counter stool, so that I could join Mr. Tsuzuki in the kitchen. I smiled; leaning down to pinch his chin beneath my forefinger and thumb. "But at least you have the benefit of being a beautiful fool."

He stared up at me defiantly and I was grateful for the return of that friction between us. It was worlds better then being pitied by a creature who himself was so pitiable.

"That mark we saw there… Watari saw the same sigil at Kokakuro. Even if we were being fooled by delusions, there has got to be some connection to the murders. And so… I'll keep my hopes up that something can be done to end this shame. If that makes me a gullible fool then so be it."

_End this shame… _Well, I supposed that I deserved that. After everything that I had done, I surely couldn't have expected Mr. Tsuzuki to have been proud of being my lover, could I? That was too much. It was enough that he had consigned himself to this arrangement.

I managed to scrape up a smile, hoping that it did not appear as fake as it actually was. "If that will make you content, then I encourage you to do so." I bent forward and placed a kiss into the tangled mess of the guardians' bangs, squeezing his upper arms gently as I did. It would be a relief when I could finally annul this farce and return to my more genuine show of affection; being something of a forceful manner, if I had to describe it. "Now, let me make you some breakfast. You can't fight evil on an empty stomach you know."

"Muraki…" He drawled scoldingly, though I saw a smile brush across his face. The mere mention of food was enough to change the conversation toward a more lighthearted tone. "You don't have to make breakfast for me. I can get something at the Cinnabon on my way to work."

"Don't be silly, we have plenty of time before you're due in." I gestured at the wall clock with my spare hand, using the other to open the refrigerator. I ducked my head inside, searching for anything I could use and managed to rustle up a carton of eggs, some bacon bits and additional strips, a sprig of spring onion, a couple of salami sticks, a packet of grated cheese, a two liter carton of milk and one near salvageable tomato. I placed everything on the kitchen bench and looked it over with a critical eye, finally concluding that it would do just fine for an informal, impromptu breakfast.

Despite Mr. Tsuzuki's earlier reluctance, I could see that he was quickly becoming intrigued by what I was doing. He took up my previous perch on the counter stool and leant his chin on his hands, the puppy ears and tail integrated into his human form appearing as a means of representing his delight.

"So… whatcha gonna make?" He inquired, the large bushy tail swaying back and forth in gradually increasing gusto. He was trying not to appear too interested but his canine qualities betrayed him as usual. I smiled patiently as I rummaged through the cabinet of the kitchen isle, finally emerging with a bowl suitable for stirring and a number of small frying pans.

"I thought I would prepare something of a traditional English breakfast. Let's see… I can make you my famous omelet recipe, with your choice of either scrambled or fried eggs with additional fried tomato on the side." I explained, finding a whisk in the sink cabinet and a few egg rings. Mr. Tsuzuki was near salivating by the prospect of such a modest meal. (Modest to me at least)

"Um… could you do… scrambled _and_ fried eggs?" He asked, pushing his current egg situation for all that it was worth. I checked the number of eggs in the carton and then, just to be safe, held them up to my ear and gave them a shake to ensure that they weren't rotten. When dealing with someone like Mr. Tsuzuki, common sense could not be underestimated.

"It looks like there are enough eggs for both." I conceded, smiling at the guardians uplifted expression, that he quickly attempted to extinguish before I could catch sight of it. "Why don't you just relax and switch the television on? News should be on, right now. We should see what the rest of the world is up to, don't you agree?"

It was a comfortable affair, I must admit. Much preferred to that lonely dinner I had prepared for Mr. Tsuzuki only a week prior to our breakfast together. As I bustled about the tiny kitchen, chopping up the ingredients for the omelet, mixing the milk and cheese into the egg mixture for the scrambled eggs, Mr. Tsuzuki stretched out on the worn couch with his cup of coffee and switched on the television. As the news trotted out its various accounts of the latest events that were considered of some interest to us, Tsuzuki and I discussed what was shown to us with frank sincerity. He was greatly concerned by the war in Iraq. He didn't care much for the annual Cherry Blossom update because it only reminded him of the upcoming party some fellow employee of the Bureau was likely to be throwing. Tsuzuki enjoyed the drinking and socializing aspect of the office _enkai _but disliked the unwanted advances he received from the host. A man after my own heart, it would seem.

As I prepared the omelets and fried up the remaining eggs, we advanced onto the topic of the upcoming Uwajima cultural festival. Every year it took place in the forest area surrounding Uwajima castle and you could be guaranteed a most entertaining display, should you find yourself in that particular region. There was dancing and drum music and each social caste was represented by a group of men and women from each particular status, all celebrating and serenading one another in whatever manner was most appropriate to them. I had attended once, when I had been a much younger man. In college and still in love with life. Long before I had been soured by the harsh reality of it.

"I'd really love to go." Tsuzuki sighed, his eyes gazing longingly at the images of the previous years revelers living it up outside of Uwajima castle. A group of small children ran in front of the camera, all sporting deer antlers, representing the wildlife of the surrounding forest. "I haven't made it to a cultural festival in a long time, not for years now, work being what it is. I swear, it's like Enma is purposefully trying to make our afterlives less interesting. Take this apartment complex for example."

"What's so terrible about it?" I asked, with purposeful ignorance as I set the guardians plate of food down before his suddenly thrilled expression. Looking around, I could certainly understand Mr. Tsuzuki's thoughts on the matter.

"Oh, it's not so bad I suppose… but back before Kyoto, all us Summons Sections guys, were allowed to live on our own, wherever we wanted in Tokyo. Just so long as we were careful 'bout our conduct and whatnot." Tsuzuki sniffed and picked up the fork that I had left beside his plate, nursing it between his thumb and finger whilst he finished speaking. "I was lodging with this elderly couple, just a couple of blocks down from here. The rent was real cheap and my landlady was always happy to feed me any leftover food she happened to make. And my room had large windows on the second floor, so I could see the Sakura branches. Though they did kind of look like scary witches hands when the lighting was just right…" He chuckled at this fond memory and jabbed his fork forward in representation of the aforementioned Sakura branches. "But… after what happened in Kyoto, Enma decided that it was too dangerous for us Guardians to be living all higgledy-piggeldy and that it might be safer for the employees as a whole to reside under the same roof. That way we would all be close at hand, should one of us require immediate assistance."

His eyes were very sad and his transpiring words bitter. "What he meant though… was that everyone would be close enough to stop me, should I have another turn."

I couldn't pretend to be apologetic, when my heart wasn't truly in it. I felt regret for causing someone I cared for an inconvenience and discomfort but it just wasn't a great enough expression of the emotion to bother mentioning. To attempt so, would have simply been insulting.

"I have caused you a terrible disservice. I'm sorry for that." I told him, picking up my own knife and fork and working to divide the omelet into suitable eating quarters. "Perhaps in the future, your employer will allow you to return to your previous living conditions."

"I somehow doubt that." The guardian muttered, taking an overzealous forkful of scrambled eggs and shoving them messily into his mouth. A pleasantly surprised expression quickly took authority over his face, his former woes being forgotten in favor of fully experiencing the flavor of the food. "Muraki!" He exclaimed, once he had imbibed the fluffy eggs. "That was… that was really good!"

I snorted disdainfully, spooning some of my own omelet between my lips. "You have tasted my cooking before, Mr. Tsuzuki. Why do my efforts surprise you now?"

The guardian shrugged, already concentrated on the sampling of his omelet. "I don't know! I guess I never knew scrambled eggs could taste that good!" He took a piece of omelet between his teeth and chewed thoughtfully, his eyes lighting up in approval. "And this… this is wonderful!"

"Well, I am rather fond of omelet's myself, so I am prone to giving them just that extra bit of attention." I informed him, secretly flattered by his approval. Though of course, why shouldn't he have enjoyed my cooking? It was not as though I was lacking in that department.

The guardian was interrupted in whatever he had chosen to say next by an invasive banging from the vicinity of the front door. Our heads jerked simultaneously towards the disturbance, a stray flap of egg white hanging limp from Mr. Tsuzuki's slightly awning lips.

I frowned, setting down my fork. "Who on earth could be calling at such an hour?" I complained softly, though Mr. Tsuzuki still determined this detrimental enough to shush me.

"Shh! You're not supposed to be here, remember?"

A string of renewed knocking followed the previous burst, more insistent in the manner of which they were applied to the wooden surface. They were accompanied this time by a voice I found irritably familiar.

"Tsuzuki?! Wake up, you idiot! We have to get going!"

I saw the blood literally drain from Mr. Tsuzuki's face, the egg dropping free from his mouth at last, falling with a wet dissonance to the curl of his plate. I felt a rather contrary smile form scripture across the lower portion of my face.

"Well, well, the boy decided to join us for breakfast." My eyebrows furrowed slightly, contorting the center of my face as a result of the divergent emotions meeting halfway. "Isn't that just _lovely_?"

Mr. Tsuzuki apparently found it about as lovely as I did but for very alternative reasons. "Oh _shit._" Was his eloquent retort. He was on his feet in seconds, sweeping what was left of his breakfast into the bin, pointedly ignoring my offended expression. After all the effort I had gone to, honestly! "Ah… Hisoka! What are you doing here so early? We don't need to be at the office for an hour or so!"

The boy was silent from behind the door and when next he spoke, it was with mellowed exasperation. "You forgot, didn't you? Yesterday you nagged and nagged and nagged me to get up extra especial early this morning, so we could drop by the Cinnabon on the way to work. You said they had some deal on..."

Tsuzuki laughed in what I suppose was a guilty manner, still rushing about in a frenzied panic.

"Sorry Hisoka! I guess it did slip my mind… listen, why don't we just forget about it today? You can go back to bed, get an extra kip before we head in?"

The boy was evidently not going to fall for this one either. "Tsuzuki! I've already completely woken up, gotten dressed and hurled myself all the way up the stairs just to wake you up! You're _not _getting out of it just because _you _forgot, not after the Hell I've gone through already!" There was another bang to the door. "And why are we having this conversation through the door? Let me in already!"

"Such a demanding young man." I murmured to myself, standing quite contently behind Mr. Tsuzuki's panic-stricken visage, picking at what was left of my breakfast with cavalier diffidence. The guardian spun about, bringing his anxiety wrought eyes to rest on me.

"Muraki, for Gods sake! Get in the closet and _hide_ or something!" He hissed at me, turning around to direct his voice back towards the door. "No point, Hisoka! The place is a real mess! Just give me a moment to get changed andI'llbeoutthereandwe'llheadoffthankssomuchdoll bye now!"

Before I could so much as remark on this peculiar exchange, the guardian had both hands pressed against my chest and he was shoving me out of the line of the doorway, reversing me bodily up the hallway and back towards the bedroom.

"Mr. Tsuzuki… you're being so direct." I dropped the plate onto the bedside table and used my now free arms to wrap about the guardians slender waist. He let out a deceptively girlish shriek as I pulled him backwards onto the bed, bringing his body down atop mine. "My, I would never have picked you for entertaining this manner of fetish. We should be quick however, if we don't want your little partner to become _impatient._" I raised my teeth to the lobe of Mr. Tsuzuki's ear, tugging it gently before bringing my lips succulently about the juicy nub of flesh. The guardian froze momentarily and then forced a perfunctory flailing of his limbs.

"Cut that out! I have to get changed, don't start this nonsense now!" He pushed himself free of me and flung open his closet with overzealous bravado. The sliding door cracked the aligning wall, sending up a small cloud of plaster residue. Mr. Tsuzuki paid no attention to this, shuffling through his extensive supply of outfits. I jest, of course. It was the accustomed black suit that emerged from the depths of his similarly drab ensemble. Before he had a chance to change, I whipped his current selection out of his hands and put them aside, gesturing to the folded garments I had set on his vanity shelf.

"Mr. Tsuzuki, I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty and ironed one of your suits for you." I held up the neatly pressed garments for his inspection. "Ah, and I thought that this tie would best compliment your eye color as well as flatter the suit." I draped a black silk tie that I had unearthed from the depths of his bedside drawer over the shirtfront. The guardian subjected the clothing to a suspicious stare and seemed to come to the conclusion that I had no ill intent in mind with this gesture.

"Thanks." He muttered, taking the articles from my possession and tossing them haphazardly onto the rumpled covers of his bed. I stepped up behind the beautiful creature, lowering my hands down towards his waist and grabbing the base of his sleep shirt.

"Let me help you with that," I offered generously, pulling the shirt upwards before Mr. Tsuzuki could adjust his arms to the correct position for disrobement. He grunted with annoyance and brought his arms up, complaining the whole while as I pulled the garment free and tossed it to the side. I plucked the neatly ironed work shirt from the bed and tugged it down over one of Mr. Tsuzuki's arms, as though I were dressing a child. The guardian chose not to appreciate my efforts and struggled to free himself from me.

"Muraki! I'm not so old that I need you to help me change, get offa me!" He shook his arm free of my hold and worked to bring his hand out through the sleeve. I used this distraction to button up the front of his shirt. Rather than hurling his continued objections at me, the guardian suddenly broke out into a throaty string of giggles. "Cut that out! I can do that myself!"

I felt a smile twinge at my features as I slid the final button into place and started to work on the zipper of Mr. Tsuzuki's pants, popping the button free in order to slide the khaki shorts down his long, smooth legs. I knelt before him, setting my hands on either side of his boxer shorts and met the guardians' eyes with my own.

"All I need is a minute, Mr. Tsuzuki." I brought the thin pale undergarment down his waist and pulled it to a crumpled mess on the floor around his feet. He stared down at me with widening eyes and took a step away, pressing the backs of his thighs against the bed.

"Muraki… Muraki I don't _have _a minute."

I drew back my lips in a visual promise of sorts, running my fingernails up over the guardians taught thigh, pulling back the hem of the shirt in order to expose the delicious length of his deceptively anticipatory manhood. The sight of it was more than enough to cause a stirring between my thighs and I felt myself growing hard. I was primarily aroused by the idea of performing this act, with that benighted boy tapping his foot impatiently in the hallway, unaware of what I was subjecting his trusted partner to only meters from beneath his nose. I had waited so long for this moment. To taste him, touch him, subject him to mine own desires as well as his own…

"Doesn't that fact make this all the more exciting?" I whispered into his doubtful features, trailing my fingers back and sliding them into the cleft of his buttocks, clenching once or twice to increase the sensation. Mr. Tsuzuki moaned out loud and then clamped his lips together tightly, no doubt concerned about the boy beyond the door.

"Muraki… we can't do it here… Hisoka… he'll hear us!"

"Ho, the vocal sort are we?" I used the strength of my arms to adjust the angle of Tsuzuki's body, forcing his pelvis forward with a few skillful ministrations of my fingers. "Mr. Tsuzuki… there are many things I want to do to you. I want to hear you cry out, to see you fling your head back upon your neck, to see your body tense and contort… I want to make you feel warm and loved, to have that part of me that you have received from no other…"

"Muraki…" The guardians voice was a low moan and though he tried to express disapproval, everything from the angle of his head, to the swelling red organ between his legs, betrayed his true desires. "Do you think this is funny…?"

"Funny?" I smiled in perhaps what could be interpreted as a most uncouth gesture. "Of course I find this funny, Mr. Tsuzuki. To think after all this time… I could bring you to this place…" I slunk my hand up into the depths of the guardians loins, delighting in the choked moan that erupted from the depths of his throat as I wrapped my hand around that increasingly stiffening organ, squeezing the cup of my fist down to the very tip, watching the head redden under my attentions. A drop of pre-cup dripped free, dampening the palm of my hand slightly. I worked my palms and fingers up and down, delving my thumb into the dripping tip, registering the escalating tightness of my own trouser front as Mr. Tsuzuki's panting breaths amplified in fervor and intensity. His knees were starting to quaver, so I forced him to sit on the bed, bringing my free hand beneath his body and cupping his testicles, distributing an even clench upon the sacks. Mr. Tsuzuki's head fell back, his mouth gaping at the undeserving ceiling that stared down upon him with the apathy of an inanimate object. The guardian had never been touched this way by anyone besides himself, he had confessed this only the previous night. These sensations were all unknown to him, unfamiliar and experienced with the full extremity of pleasure only available to one when they possess no prior familiarity with sexual attentions.

"Muraki… _ah_…" His long eyelashes fluttered, fingers pressing down into the mattress, scrunching the already rumpled sheets. "Ah… ah…"

I lowered my face and ran my tongue up the line of Tsuzuki's thigh, chuckling softly as I came upon a sensitive patch of skin that caused the guardians body to momentarily spasm. I placed my front teeth about the swelling head of Mr. Tsuzuki's erection, holding it steady with just the smallest application of pressure whilst I swished the tip of my tongue around the weeping slit, pushing the center of my tongue down to cover it, just long enough to taste the juices of his lust. Mr. Tsuzuki hissed between his teeth as I lapped the head of his erection, using my fingers to stroke the length of his penis that my mouth was currently not attending to. My knees were starting to ache from kneeling and the heat from between my legs was growing increasingly more urgent to release. I forced myself to ignore it, directing all my attention towards providing my lover with the most exquisite treatment I could offer. As Tsuzuki's upper body tilted backward towards the bed, I slid my hand further along his erection in mimicry of the movement, pushing my lips down to pull only a slight portion of the guardians' succulent length into my mouth. I moaned softly to myself as the salty taste of man invaded my senses, adjusting my lower jaw to lull the taught penis into a lullaby of motion. Tsuzuki had just buried his fingers into the strands of my hair and was starting to rotate his hips against my face, when we both distinctly heard the sound of the front door opening and then being thrown back into the frame with fierce gusto. The guardians' body went taught with a whole new sensation. Apparently the boy had an extra key. Why Mr. Tsuzuki had felt compelled to allow him the liberty to invade his privacy whenever the urge took him, I don't know. He was certainly regretting it now, that's for certain.

"Hisoka!" He gasped, voice stricken. I responded by taking the entire length of him into my mouth and sucking hard. Tsuzuki groaned in the depths of his throat, arching his back dramatically from the surface of the bed. "Ungh! _M-Muraki… stop! He'll see us!"_

I could hear the boys footsteps make their irritable path past the kitchen. He would be at the head of the hallway now. His proximity only served to excite me further and I bent my upper body down over the guardians' pelvis, sucking with increasing passion. Tsuzuki curled his legs up, attempting to push me away half-heartedly. I brought my hands underneath his bare buttocks, massaging the flesh with passing grasps and strokes. I could feel his body tightening up beneath me and knew that it wouldn't be long until the guardian surrendered himself to me for the second time in two days.

The boys' footsteps were getting closer and I could feel the tension of the situation escalate my pulse several degrees. I would have to bring Mr. Tsuzuki to completion before the nosy youth stuck his head in, or else the game was over. In order to prompt the impending orgasm, I brought my fingers into the crevice of the guardians' buttocks and hurriedly speared one finger into the velvety softness of his sacred space. He was so tight… I could only imagine what it would be like to have penetrated him with my true desire. The very prospect made me shiver with anticipation.

I wriggled my finger deep down until the knuckle was only submerged, poking around for that place that I knew would bring him that degree of pleasure he had experienced the night before. I lapped the base of Mr. Tsuzuki's penis as I dove my second finger within, prodding carefully about. The boy must have just about been at the door now. Tsuzuki's beautiful features were threshed with panic and I was able to bear witness to the dramatic shifting of this splendid visage, as I brushed upon that bundle of nerves inside his body, causing a wave of motion to cascade along the quivering lines of the guardians anatomy, thrashing the interior of my mouth with the shudders of his pelvis, shooting his dark seed into the depths of my waiting and eager throat.

His taste was breathtaking. Luscious, spiced with the hint of male tang and a deeper concentrated essence that brought with it, bare hints of the inscrutable power resting dormant within the depths of his body. I drank in as much of him as I could, squeezing the base of his now flaccid penis to drain the tender organ of whatever essence it meant to keep from me. I desired every spare inch of it and the few tantalizing drops I forced from the very tip, were the absolute sweetest of all.

I had no time to taunt Mr. Tsuzuki for his surrender to me, the boy was at that moment mere seconds away from entering the room, never mind whether his partner was modest or not. I flashed the guardian a dark smile, giving him only enough time to see me lick my lips clean of the residual sperm that permeated the curves of my mouth and then I was stepping neatly backwards, pulling the closet doors shut behind me at the very same instant that the boy ceremoniously thrust open the corresponding door to the bedroom. I could have laughed out loud for the sheer artistry of it all.

Mr. Tsuzuki didn't have a great deal of options available to him but responded quite well, considering the state that I had left him in. He pulled the sheet off of the bed and wrapped it around his waist like some bizarre high waisted skirt, managing to contort his contented expression into something suitably maligned as the discourteous brat stepped within the boundaries of the bedroom.

"Hisoka! Come on, I'm changing here!" I'm not sure why my Tsuzuki would have deemed this a normality of expression; here in Japan the naked body does not possess the attached stigma of modesty or even shame that it does in Western societies. Perhaps the younger generations maintain a mounting skepticism in the suitability of flouting ones flesh about in the company of others but it is generally an accepted norm of practice and certainly not a facet that one should feel embarrassed about. Being an older gentleman, I assumed that Mr. Tsuzuki was particularly carefree about such things and I'm certain that the Kurosaki boy understood this just as well as I did. His sudden bashfulness really made no sense and only managed to look incremental and only towards himself.

The boy was in limbo; (once again, excuse the unintentional pun) one foot in the door, the rest of his body thrust out into the hallway. He stared at Mr. Tsuzuki, expression highly perturbed.

"Since when have you cared about flashing your skin about, you stupid old man?" The boy was just as observant as I had gathered. He raised an eyebrow curiously at Mr. Tsuzuki's current ensemble but wisely chose not to comment on it. "Seriously, would you hurry up, though? You've kept me waiting long enough already. Just pull something on and let's go."

Tsuzuki flashed a hassled smile and waved a high lightly at the boys' impatient features. I was able to observe all this through the slats of the closet door, in case you were wondering how I was privy to any of it.

"Right, right. I'll be along just as soon as I find some underpants! Just wait for me in the sitting room, okay?"

The boy muttered a curt complaint and stepped back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. "Fine. Just hurry up. Mr. Tatsumi called that staff meeting this morning and I don't want to turn up late again."

As soon as he had left the immediate vicinity, Mr. Tsuzuki crossed to the closet and flung the door open, dropping the sheet about his waist in the process. I glanced along the line of his exposed body, with an approving lift of my left hand eyebrow.

"Oh _my. _I've never seen curtains parted on such a… _pleasing _view."

The guardian glared at me, slapping the side of my face smartly with the flat of his hand. It hardly stung a jot and the action was not callous in the slightest. Rather… it appeared to be affectionate, for lack of a better word.

"Pervert. I'm gonna put a restraining order out against you." Tsuzuki huffed sticking his nose in the air. I smiled to myself, watching as he went about dressing himself with reckless finesse, such was the mans indisputable charm. He was positively incapable of composing his attire in an orderly fashion and what I had just subjected him to, certainly hadn't helped matters. I could still see his body trembling slightly. Still, at least he had been permitted his release. My own trousers remained unreasonably tight. "Since I'm going to that much trouble, might as well get one out against the Count too…"

I laughed softly to myself, stepped out of the closet (stop chortling Mr. Watari, we're not in primary school) and set to work tucking the guardians' shirt into his pants and righting the buttons on his jacket, that he had distractedly jammed through the incorrectly corresponding holes.

"Well, Mr. Tsuzuki. Though you may prefer my 'light' half, I sincerely doubt that he is capable of doing half the things that I am." I winked slyly, bringing a light blush to the guardians already rosy cheeks. He tried to brush his embarrassment aside.

"You know… I had a dream some time ago, that you managed to bring yourself to my room back in the place I was staying at before." He knotted his tie so messily that I had little choice but to undo it and restart from scratch. "You leant over my bed, held out a rose, ran your hand up my leg… and asked me to marry you."

"What a lovely dream." I expressed favorably, bringing the flawless knot in the tie up to rest securely beneath the collar of Mr. Tsuzuki's shirt. He was already looking considerably neater than on any other occasion that I had come into contact with him. Excluding that night at the cinema when he had gone far and beyond himself.

The guardian snorted quite rudely. "Dream?! More like a friggin' nightmare! You started molesting me, right there on my futon and then Tatsumi burst through the door and I thought he was going to save me from you! But then he- then he-" The guardian sniffled as though suddenly confusing reality with unconscious dabbling. "He… he stabbed me with this giant acupuncture needle! And there was this big deep narrative type voice that was telling good children not to try this at home… it was really weird." He frowned thoughtfully. "He stabbed my butt too! I remember it went really numb in my dream and I got all helpless and weak… and you totally took advantage of me and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it! What you did to me just then… you did in my dream too."

I smiled at his flushed expression. "I suppose I can see why that would have disturbed you at that time, Mr. Tsuzuki."

The guardian gave an embarrassed smile in return to my previous gesture. "Truth is… I found it kind of sexy. Y'know… scary… I hated Tatsumi for some time after that too… but being all weak and helpless, not able to do a thing but just give in to you and enjoy it… even when I tried to stop you… it just made you more passionate."

"Mr. Tsuzuki… that's true life." I said. His knees were still a little wobbly and I helped lead him over to the vanity, where I picked up what appeared to be a rarely touched comb and a jar of never used styling gel. "Are you sure you're not mistaking your dream with reality?"

Mr. Tsuzuki just laughed a little, watching with great attention as I swept his bangs back neatly out of his face and used the gel to comb a number of distinctive controlled waves throughout his hair. He appeared to be a very sophisticated businessman by the time I was finished with him.

"Thanks for… ironing my clothes and… making breakfast." The guardians' cheeks went red again and I thought him all the more lovely for it. "The um… you know… that was nice too." He rolled his shoulders a little, swishing his head from side to side. "I feel tingly all over… and like I really want to go back to bed."

"I wish we could." I confessed, lowering my hands and pressing them about the guardians' slender upper arms, divesting a soft kiss upon his mouth. He hesitated a moment and I realized why after the act was completed; his taste was still upon my tongue and he wasn't sure how to behave when I had just imbibed his essence. I stroked his cheek a little and gave his bottom a reassuring pat.

"Be on your way then. Don't want the boy becoming too surly now, do we? I'll lock up after I make the bed and do your dishes for you."

Mr. Tsuzuki thought about this for a moment and came to the conclusion that he could allow me to extend this generous offer because he nodded without instigating an argument against my extended stay. Within the apartment, anyway.

"Muraki… did you manage to get the day off of work? Do you have somewhere to go?"

I told him about my requested visit to see Ukyou out of town and assured him that I could find accommodation outside of Tokyo if worse came to worse. Satisfied that I would be safely out of summoning shot for some time, Mr. Tsuzuki divested a sort of touching squeeze to my arm before bidding me a somewhat churlish farewell, completely at odds with his tender motives. He and the boy left to whatever business was required of them at the bakery and I did those jobs that I promised, ensuring that I locked the door to Mr. Tsuzuki's apartment before making my very careful exit from the _Sakura Zensen _and one block down the road to where I had parked my car for the night. I had not incurred the wrath of a parking ticket, which buoyed my spirits slightly and it was with a light heart and a delicious aftertaste upon my tongue, that I made my way further out from the city central, to where the Muraki mansion awaited the return of its current master. On the way I happened to spot a flower vender, setting up for early morning business and I stopped to buy a bouquet of orchids, intending for them to be a gift to dear Ukyou once I had arrived in Nagoya.

The estate was especially quiet when I navigated the car back towards the main compound. Rather then going through the additional fuss of entering the garage, I alternatively chose to park the Lotus out by the grand front doors, deciding that I would only be stopping by long enough to drop in my luggage from my trip to Saiki and change my clothing into something more suitable. The car engine chugged to a gradual purr and then deceased instantly as I turned the key about in the ignition. Normally I would have one of the servants, or even Sakaki himself assist me in the task of negotiating my luggage up the interior stairwell and into my room but it was far too early to expect any of them to be present on the grounds and fortunately, I had not packed a lot for my two week stay in Saiki. I brought everything to my room with no great dilemma and chose a casual shirt, scarf and untailored slacks to wear for my visit to Nagoya. Once I had changed. I phoned Sakaki to let him know that I would be going out of town for the day. He was due in to instruct the help at 9:30 and I felt that he could address the guardians safely should they poke their heads in at whatever time they deemed suitable to end my reign of terror. Sakaki was incredibly loyal though I chose in this case not to inform him of where I would heading. Devoted though he was, one couldn't be too careful when dealing with the guardians of death. They were an exceptionally sneaky lot.

As I made my way out through the foyer, I chanced upon a lone individual standing by the entranceway doors. I naturally presumed that this was one of the lodgers, though their presence here was unusual in its own right. I allowed lodgers to stay in the guest wing of the mansion (converted from the hospital my grandfather had established in the left division) but it was a rare occurrence that I should encounter them. The guest wing was on the far side of the compound. A lodger would have to go far out of their way to happen upon the main building.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I asked, straightening my tie. I racked my memory for the name of this particular tenant but it slipped evasively through my mental probes. I must confess, I hadn't gone to a great deal of effort to become familiarly acquainted with my presiding boarders. "It's terribly early. Is there a problem in the guest wing?"

This man, who appeared to be an older gentleman, smiled courteously at me and bowed his head. He was as tall as I was, dressed in a navy blue coat and as he stooped forward he swept his hat before him, (one of those suave numbers, most commonly associated with detectives from the 1920's) revealing a full head wavy head of shaggy dark blond hair. The individual strands liberally shone in the light from the window arching the grand doorway.

"Not at all." He said and I was even more astounded that I could be remiss of someone with such a remarkably deep voice. "I heard your car enter the compound and I was concerned as to who might be visiting at such an hour. Terribly sorry to have disturbed you."

I finished tightening the knot in my tie and soothed out the front of my neatly pressed jacket. "It's no trouble, Mr.…?" I waved my hand in a circle, encouraging him to prompt the extension of his title.

"Haruhi. Okiko Haruhi." He said, sweeping his hat back upon the crown of his head and making his way across the linoleum to join me. I noticed he walked with quite an exaggerated limp that seemed to have nothing to do with his legs. "Does the young master have some business requiring his attendance at such an hour?"

I nodded empathically, brushing past the strange gentleman and twisting the doorknob, expecting it to be unlocked, since the lodger could only have entered through the front access. I found it locked instead. Most peculiar.

"Well, you be sure to drive carefully. Such nasty weather." He spoke in such a cavalier manner you might have thought that he had missed my subtle rebuff. I didn't wish to express my escalating concern of this peculiar man but the longer I remained within his presence, the less capable I became of effectively containing my calm. I could feel a tightening sensation in my chest, indicating a rapid increase in anxiety and I was baffled that I could not effectively establish the root of this sudden apprehension.

I consciously relaxed the muscles of my hand, forcing back the quavers that were starting to take control and unlocked the front door, easing the left hand side open and allowing a cold rush of morning air to seep through the gap. I looked back over my shoulder at the lodger, at his unchanging expression. He was smiling… his lips quirked up into something of a self-satisfied little smirk. And something about that expression was familiar… I reached back through the throngs of my memories but nothing became clear. I could not slip that thread through the eye of the needle.

Not yet.

"I'll be sure to be careful." I said, flinging the trailing end of the scarf over one shoulder, so that it settled between the curves of my shoulder blades. "Good day to you, Mr. Haruhi."

The lodger dipped his head courteously but that smile failed to match the false show of affability. It was not so much a pretence to express a favorable disposition but more so a manner of allusion, to tempt my mind to thread that connection. This man, this Okiko Haruhi, wanted me to snap to the reality presented underneath my very nose. But I had not the knowledge to ascertain just who he was and what exactly he had been and would be responsible for.

"And to you," I saw his eyes alight and connect with my own, just as I pulled the door shut on that disturbing, provoking expression frozen in perpetual motion upon his worn features.

As I made my way along the interstate highway, I got to thinking about those days back in highschool, when everything had been an easy errand and my friends were people I could depend upon with honest to goodness sincerity. I'd had four close confidants. We were insatiably loyal to one another, our little quartet. Ukyou and I had been in the same year and coming from quite well to do families, we had been acquainted for a number of years prior to our attending the same educational institute together. It only seemed natural that we would have grown to depend on one another for companionship during the high school years. Ukyou and Oriya were cousins and he watched out for her but they had not been particularly close before Saki come into the picture. He enrolled in the same high school as me, naturally and for some reason or another became fast friends with Oriya. They were thick as thieves the pair of them and Saki eventually dragged me into the group, with Ukyou accompanying me of course and after that the four of us were inseparable. It wasn't until after Saki's death that Oriya and I became particularly devoted. Truth be told, Oriya had always been so serious, I felt as though he'd never particularly favored one brother over the other. Ukyou had made her feelings known of course. She had fallen for Saki. He had been such a charismatic fellow to others. Cheerful, polite, peppy, energetic, affectionate… he just seemed to be one of those boys that instantly attract all the attention. Perhaps I favored him that. I was certainly envious of it but I don't recall Saki ever flaunting it about, or indeed rubbing my nose in it. He was so oblivious in fact that there came a time in which the appeal wore off and the other students began to consider him just as strange as the rest of us.

Oriya was never singled out as a target (granted he was so big, even then, that everyone was too afraid to try) but he was the subject of many a vicious conversation and rumor. He'd always found it difficult to concentrate in class because of his ability. People fidgeting all the time, shifting around, talking, concentrating and during an exam when the stress levels were at maximum they would alternatively affect Oriya and he would often take a turn and have to be excused from the examination room in order to calm down, away from the other students. His reflexive ability meant that he was so attune to the conditions of other people's bodies that he couldn't safely concentrate on any of his own work because he was being constantly bombarded with the physical processes of everyone around him. It was this steady barrage that eventually led to him building up a sort of mediocre immunity and he developed a weak system of combating those processes, when they became too much. Sadly it meant that his mind was divided much of the time, the effort of holding the processes of the others at bay was mentally exhausting and he could appear quite slow as a result.

The other students had been particularly wary of me, being a quiet, studious sort, so Oriya and I were sort of in the same boat, regarding popularity status. Ukyou and Saki were responsible for keeping us firmly institutionalized amongst our classmates. That was at least, until my mother had passed away and I was free from her oppressive influence. It gave me a chance to experience life without the bridal, to live and learn just what people expected and desired of me. Then of course I learnt not to care and that the only perception of myself that was important was my own. It seemed like a very long time ago, that boy that I had been. I didn't even think of myself as Kazutaka anymore, though it had been my chosen name. Two of the people I hated most in the world had addressed me by that title and I thought it best to leave that name behind with them. It best rot beneath the ground, just so as those memories did.

Every time I thought of Ukyou, I couldn't help but flash back to high school, those times long before my mind had become corrupted by the harsh realities of life and death. She was an innocence I could always depend on to cast a bright light on even those days and times I would otherwise have held no compassion for. I would always bear that affection for her, even if I could not love her like I had once hoped to.

Yes, I had used her to cast a positive aspect of normality open myself. And that is terrible of me, I know. But behaving in that manner, I honestly did not think that it would matter in the long run. And not because I am a cold man, not because her presence in my life meant nothing to me. But because I was sure that in time, in the due passing of the days, the months, the years and the decades that spanned the length of our time together, I was sure that I would grow to love her. That it would be learned unto me by my shear determination to reward her for keeping my head above water during high school, when I was such a small and powerless creature. But adoration, affection, _love, _whatever you call it in your own definition of the sensation, perceive it as you will but understand we all do that this emotion is not forced, nor chosen to belong to any one person. You direct it unintentionally. And yet, in that vein a part of you makes that decision of whom that desire shall belong to. It is the same as governing the manner in which we shape our very being. Who we are and whom we love, those are two facets that cannot be forced by our mindset. We naturally concede to the true nature of our inner yearning.

Ukyou meant worlds to me and I thought that if I could just fall in love with her, if I could do that much for her, then I could save her. When the fire had overwhelmed me in the basement of the Kyoto University, I begged her forgiveness because I felt that I was conceding to death, having ultimately failed my one sincere duty. To fall in love with her. To thank her in kind of everything she provided me, in the very worst days of my life. But I couldn't do it. No more than I could change who I was.

There was something particularly devastating in admitting this to myself, to realize just how weak my motives had been all along. I could have cut Ukyou free years ago and allowed her to go on with her life. I had made a prisoner of her by leading her on with my false intentions, regardless of how noble I had initially perceived them to be.

She deserved the truth. I would speak of that to her on that visit. And give her the thanks that she deserved. A spoken gesture of gratitude for my dear friend, who gave me a loving smile that kept my heart and soul alive.

Ukyou's house was situated in a quiet neighborhood that suited her meek personality down to the ground. Here she remained undisturbed by the hustle of modern activity, perfectly content to live out her days in pursuit of her artistic passions. I indicated my intentions, though mine was the solitary car on the lone stretch of road and turned up into the long driveway, noting absently the amount of flowers having fallen from the surrounding trees, coating the bitumen in a thick carpet. Mine was clearly the first car that had been along in the last couple of days. I wasn't greatly concerned by this. Ukyou often got tied up in her work and was prone to spending days to a week shut up within the beautiful house, tinkering away on her current project, lost to the world around her. As a gesture of good will (owing perhaps some to my sense of nostalgia as I had been driving) I decided that I would run some errands for her, if indeed her attention had been currently occupied the past few days. No doubt she would be running low on essentials, such as milk, coffee and sugar. In the more communal days of our relationship, I had discovered she was always tiresomely low on these two basics; being prone to drinking gratuitous amounts of coffee. Not that I am one to talk mind but I am fortunate in that I have Sakaki at my disposal and a such I am never left wanting for a constant influx of the most exotic and delicious coffee blends available.

I eased the car gently along the driveway and parked behind the garage, unable to help but notice that the sliding door had been left wide open, as though Ukyou were about to head out. And no wonder. By this stage, she had almost certainly run out of coffee. Perhaps it would have been more meaningful should I have bought her a pot of Wedgwood Original Blend instead of flowers? Honestly, the amount of money I have wasted on flowers only to have them shoved back in my face, simply astonishes me. (Not referring to anyone specifically, Mr. Tsuzuki.) I suppose people prefer more practical gifts, then the aesthetically pleasing proportions of the rose that inevitably wilt before their eyes. Whatever the case, I could only imagine how it would look approaching Ukyou with a bouquet of flowers; she would interpret it as a method to win back her affections, which of course was not my intentions at all. It was fortunate that I had alternatively chosen to present orchids instead of roses. The symbolism might not be misconstrued that way.

Still, I wished I had thought of that coffee idea sooner.

I approached the front door and assailed the steps, ducking my head to avoid the potted flower arrangement Ukyou had been proud enough to decoratively hang from the archway. The plants inside looked a mite dry, which struck me as unusual. Ukyou was an extremely attentive woman, regarding all manner of things. She took pride in maintaining the upkeep of her beautiful house; it was one of her guilty pleasures, not unlike my collection of porcelain dolls. I could not see into the living area from where I was standing and the blinds were drawn, providing an additional barrier to my sight. If Ukyou had been planning on going out, she would have opened the curtains by now, in order to let the sunlight in. She may have been in the habit of transforming into a hermit on occasion but she had never been a sit in the dark sort of recluse. Sunlight and fresh air were especially necessary to keep her strength up.

The subtle peculiarities had not been lost on me. Before addressing Ukyou's presence within the house, I had already become concerned. I found myself sincerely hoping that she had met a young man and was perhaps still sleeping off the after effects. This was of no concern to my feelings of course and I would be relieved as such, to know that she was fine. But this was a fleeting straw of hope at best. I knew Ukyou too well to know that it was not in her nature to shack up with a gentleman when she was in such a vulnerable mood. Her nature was to run to either Asuoko or Oriya for a frank discussion and a cup of tea. Throwing herself into a passionate tryst of passion was certainly not her style. In fact, I doubted she would have considered it, even fleetingly.

Still, Ukyou had not been behaving in her usual manner during our last meeting. Who knew what to expect anymore?

Putting my concerns on hold, I propped the neatly wrapped bouquet in my left arm and rapped the knuckle of my right hand smartly against the wooden door. I knocked three times, alternating to my fist when the first summons failed to rouse the intended occupant. There was silence to greet my arrival and the house was void of suitable response. I tucked my lower lip back between my teeth and compressed it thoughtfully. Again, this was unlike Ukyou. She was always prompt in answering the door, regardless of how angry or upset she may have been with the visitor. Besides which, she had no idea that it was I who was calling on her, so it was unreasonable that she would ignore company.

I had always trusted Asuoko Mibu's intuition but I had hoped in this particular circumstance, the 'feeling' she had sensed, had been nothing but emotional turmoil on Ukyou's part. This could not account for the silence that I had encountered.

I reached out with my mind, using what little power I possessed to 'sense' a presence, should one have resided within the evidence. I was gratified when I felt a beating heart within the walls and immediately berated myself for becoming paranoid. Ukyou was no doubt tending to something, perhaps even presently occupied in the powder room. I decided to let my presence be known regardless, though a gentleman best not hurry a lady.

This time I rang the doorbell, a mere brief burst to alert her to my attendance. "Ukyou! It's Kazutaka, my dear. Come let me in when you have the chance, please?"

I waited a further minute without receiving validation that my call had been adhered to. I drummed my fingers impatiently against the wrapping of the bouquet and leaned slightly to the side, attempting to see through the gap in the curtains shielding the living room. It was dark inside and none of the interior lights had been switched on. I happened to glance down at my feet, (boredom directs your attention to the oddest places) and I happened upon two rolled newspapers, respectively sporting today's and yesterdays dates. I felt a chill creep up my spine. Reclusive as Ukyou became sometimes, she _never _went a day without tuning into the news, whether it be televised or printed. Something was desperately wrong here and I could no longer fool myself otherwise.

Fortunately, I was still in possession of Ukyou's spare key. I had intended to return it to her the night she had visited me in Tokyo, though she had been in such a terrible mood, I thought that best left for another day, when the finalities of our annulment were less painful. Now I was grateful for that delay. Placing the flowers down on the stoop, I fished the silver key from the chain and slid it into the lock, twisting it sidelong in order to push back the tumbler. A metallic click alerted me to a successful infiltration and I pocketed the key chain, before twisting open the doorknob and stepping into the front foyer, retrieving my bouquet before I shut the door behind me. If indeed I had made a mistake and Ukyou was about to embark on a deserved tirade of how I had invaded her privacy, the flowers would come to positive effect. Needless to say, they became of inconsequential concern once I was inside and the full effect of the houses eerie nature settled upon me.

As a man formally entrenched in the business of ending the lives of others, I was not entirely compatible with the atmosphere currently seeping the very air I was drinking in. I couldn't put my finger on what it was exactly. The house appeared normal, comparatively speaking. I ducked my head into the living room. The television was off and nothing appeared to be out of place, apart from the still drawn curtains. The kitchen too was immaculate. Ukyou had cleaned up all the dishes and put everything away. The Venetian blinds were drawn across the bay windows, leaving only streaks of yellow to sear diligently against the counter top. I checked in the fridge and oven, not sure what I expected to find. Perhaps I can blame such efforts on the reading of one too many American novels; Dean Koontz to that effect.

I entered the passageway, moving carefully, all too knowledgeable of how men like I functioned and how we might have dealt with an intruder that stumbled upon something they were not supposed to see. I actively shook aside my long bangs, exposing my mechanical eye to the darkness, searing through it and deeply invading the shadowed corners, searching for any movement that was out of place. I happened upon the laundry first and I quickly ducked inside, pulling my back tight against the wall. There was nothing to be found in the washing machine or the number of baskets scattered about. I stepped outside and continued onward a few feet and that is when the smell finally hit me.

Pungent. Repulsive. A sensory memory, all too familiar. Blood. And sweat. And semen.

Only a number of places awaited my inspection but I already knew my final tragic destination. Ukyou's bedroom stood at the end of the hallway, the door left open a mere gap, inviting me onward with suggestive coyness. I was not a coward and I have been a terrible person for such a long time that I am not frightened by the thought of what any other maniac might perpetuate upon me. Nevertheless, an unfamiliar sensation sat gnawing in the depths of my gut, as though insects were attempting to devour me from the inside out. I knew, even as I approached that doorway that it was not my room that lay beyond. It was not my bed, upon which Saki had stolen my innocence and any chance I had of leaving a normal life.

It was not. But it had been purposefully intending to _remind _me of the sordid events of my past. Just as I'm sure your humiliation at the hands of those bewitched men in the alleyway, only served as a reminder of what was done unto you, Mr. Watari. That is the way we have been punished for our misdemeanors, whether our cruel acts can be justified by calling them revenge or by admitting to our lust for carnage.

I didn't edge open the door with cautious pretence. This was not a horror movie, nor a soap opera. This was real life and I was not a hesitant man, afraid of what my eyes might fall upon. I swung it open forcefully, slamming my hand on the light switch as I did. The room was flooded and I could bear witness to the completeness of this tableau of degradation laid out before me.

The orchids fell from my hands and dropped to the floor in silence. My hands had never been that weak before. Nor too had my heart. My eyes sincerely widened and though I did not gasp or scream my shock, my body expressed in solid rigidity the trauma this scene bestowed upon me.

Ukyou was lying on her back on the bed, arms and legs akimbo. Though she had clearly not left the house in the last two days, I could tell even from where I was standing, that she had not been dead long. Her skin was only starting to discolor. Her head was tossed back against the bedsheets, exposing the deep and brutal slice slammed deep into her throat. She had been wearing a light and feminine dress, nothing fancy, just something she liked to wear about the house when going about her own carefree business. I thought back to the day when I had first seen her wearing that dress. I had come over to prepare her dinner and we had gone walking out through the woods behind her house with a glass of wine in hand, her arm looped through mine. She had been telling me about the latest painting she had been working on and how sincerely happy her laughter had been, how innocent her expression and that smile… this memory, far removed from this day, this harsh reality. Now Ukyou's body had been rendered into its own nightmarish canvas of blood and twisted posture. She had no underwear on and I could see that she had been raped, judging from the mess that had been made of her thighs and vaginal cavity. Her face was only slightly twisted, dignified in expression, even in her own death.

The white sheet upon which she lay… I presumed at first that the red upon it was the blood from her own wounds but when I looked closer, I realized that it was actually a symbol. A glaring red sigil, with four distinctively separate demonic references. Because of Ukyou's positioning, I could not read it and found that it was the least of my concerns of that moment.

I moved into the room and approached the bed. I could feel a foreign sensation burning my true eye and let out a startled cry when I felt a tear fall from my lashes. I pulled it aside with my fingers, staring at it, mortified. I hadn't shed sincere tears in a great many years now. But I could feel the emotion welling up. The anger… the sorrow. Ukyou was no longer my fiancée but she was still my childhood friend and I had known her longest of anyone. Not even Oriya had presence in my life the way this woman had.

And someone… someone had dared to devastate her… _her! _

It became clearer to me; the closer I brought myself to that bed. Not all of that red was blood. A great deal of it…

… were rose petals.

The back of my neck prickled as I raised my eyes towards the wall above the bed, almost expecting to see what naturally awaited my attendance. Carved into the plaster, each letter a foot high at least, was the provocative words; _"To see you dead, upon a bed of roses."_ Next to the words, imbedded deeply into the wall, was a large, typically bloodstained cleaver.

The handle was still quivering.

"Dear God," I whispered, hating the tremor in my voice but unable to exorcise it. It was taking all my willpower to keep my tears at bay, vulnerable such as I had become. To think that such a ruthlessly cumbersome weapon had been employed against this sweet and harmless young woman… "Ukyou… why you…?"

Something came crashing into the room behind me and I instinctively spun about, putting my back to the devastating remains of my former fiancée. I blinked through one blurry eye at the figure who was now standing in the doorway. I could hear their harsh panting and then a high-pitched cry of alarm as whoever it was, saw what lay rendered behind me.

"Kazutaka!" The person called and I was immediately shocked to be addressed as such. What manner of familiarity did this individual feel that they had with me? "…I'm… I'm too late…"

My eyes finally cleared and I could see who it was standing there. I felt my features twist with anger.

"You!" I snarled and I could not recall the last time I had even spoken with such fury in my tone. "Still alive after all, are you?"

The boy – Pandora – wasn't only alive, but seemed to be in good health. He was wearing a casual pair of jeans and baggy t-shirt, both of which flouted his slender yet pleasing figure. Currently of which was pressed into the doorframe, fingernails clenching into the wood hard enough to splinter it and one hand covering his mouth. There were tears streaming down his face.

"No, no, no, no, no… not Ukyou…" He moaned, sinking down onto his knees and slamming his head against the floor with such violence I was sure he would have cracked his skull open. He clenched his fists and roared furiously, venting some hidden frustration. "This has got to end! Forgive me Kazutaka… I really can't protect anyone… I've tried so hard…"

I pointed a finger back over my shoulder, keeping my voice level and as impassive as it was possible. "Are you… responsible in some way for this… boy?"

His head jerked up and his eyes met mine with such haste, that his innocence seemed only natural. "No! How could you think that? Why is that always the way with you? To doubt and doubt and doubt and never think that anyone else could have been responsible?"

This didn't seem to be entirely about Ukyou and I was starting to get incredibly fed up with everything that had happened over the past fortnight. No… never mind those fourteen days. My entire life had been an entire sequence of never answered questions, mysteries and complex analogies. I was a tired man and weary most of all of taking a non-violent approach to everything. Mr. Tsuzuki had been threatened, Ukyou was now dead and who was to say that what came next would not be so terrible?

The boy was right; it would end now. So long as I had the will to throw that spanner in the works.

"Then who is to blame for this, boy?" I turned my back to him (unadvisable, unless you are someone as devoutly self-confident as I) and reached over Ukyou's forever resting head to wrench the cleaver from the wall. Nothing mattered then, only taking some decisive action towards resolving this unforgivable act of insult towards me. The blade came unstuck with the entire force of my shoulder and the boy, registering my next move, starting powering his rear end backwards into the hallway, scuttling along the floor like a crab. I was so emotional I did not stop to consider how utterly obtuse my actions were. I was caught up in my momentary madness and it swept me along on a pure wave of irresponsibility, ruled by indulgence and instinct.

None of which, could predict a positive outcome.

"Don't you move boy!" I roared at him, slamming the cleaver blade violently through the doorframe, leaving a thick vertical slice in its' wake. Woodchips flew into the air and the child shielded his face as though this might have afforded him some manner of protection. After what I had been witness to, I doubted there was any number of deed done unto him that he could not heal from. Case in point, I stepped between his sprawled legs and swung the cleaver blade sideways, smashing the boys cheek with the flat end. The opposing side of his face hit the wall and he cried out pitifully, pulling himself into a curled position and bringing his arms up over his head, forming a sort of protective cocoon against me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He squalled pathetically, reminding me ever so much of that infantile Hisoka Kurosaki on the night he had afforded such ill luck to have stumbled across me at one of my feedings. "I haven't done anything to you!"

The blood was rushing between my ears and I could not afford him mercy in my current lunatic state. I reached down between those slender arms and fished my hand into his head of dirty blond hair, wrenching him up on his knees. His eyelashes were wet with tears, both cheeks already bruising from my first strike. He was sincerely lovely to gaze upon. Such a beautiful creature… it was no wonder the demons favored him within their bedchamber.

"_Who_… has done this?" I said, enunciating each word carefully so that the boy would understand how serious I was. For insurance, I pressed the cleaver blade into the boys round cheek, gradually applying pressure and then wiggling the blade a little deeper until clots of blood oozed down his face. He sobbed, gripping the wooden handle but making no real concerted effort to redirect my fevered attentions.

"It's the _Shukusatsu!_" He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain. I flinched in recognition at that word. "You gave… a portion of it to that Hisoka but… you unknowingly gave another branch to… to Ukyou. It's supposed to be the mark of Mitkiel… he leaves it upon those that he intends to punish for the sins they have committed but- but something's gone wrong! Now it's being used by someone else… someone who means to point the finger of blame towards my master! My master who for once is innocent!"

"And this 'someone' is compelled to return upon those it has marked, is that it? Does it kill only those who bear this mark?" I pulled the cleaver away from the boys face and instead pulled him down on his hands and knees. His gasp of relief quickly turned into a shriek of fear as I pinned his right hand down by the wrist, splaying his individual fingers out. I positioned the cleaver down over his thumb. "Now you tell me quick and you tell me honestly, boy. Or I'll sever each one and then make you sit and watch as I sew them back on!"

Pandora sobbed helplessly, his face upright but clenched tightly with fear and grief. Tears were pooling from the end of his chin and dripping in generous dollops down onto the carpet.

"The _Shukusatsu _is passed on by shared sexual contact. It moves like the AIDS virus and everyone who wears it he will revist upon them, to end their life! So that Mitkiel's name is stained! And those whose lives are not ended by him, are culled by Mitkiel's servants otherwise they become… something like you!"

"Something like me?" I pressed down hard on his hand and pushed the blade violently against the boys thumb. "And what exactly is _'like me?'_ Start being more specific."

"Please… _don't…_" The boy was trembling all over and he was watching his hand as though it were his purse about to be snatched from his hip. "Mitkiel has four servants, including me. We have been sent in his stead, to try and protect those that wear his corrupted mark! Their names – you want their names, right? –" He had assumed so, because I had started to dig the blade into the knuckle of his thumb. Sweat was now pouring down the back of his neck. "I'll tell you – the first was previously assigned the post of Hells Executioner. Best remembered as the Cutthroat Devil of the Fourth Hour in the Order of the Nine. Eurynomous."

My knowledge of the hierarchy of demons was nowhere near as advanced as perhaps some people had been led to suspect. In all honesty, I'd never had much interest for the creatures of the Other place, unless of course they were of some use to me. What little I had learnt during my research, told me that the highest demonic class structure consisted of 9 castes, each one designated a ranking by hour. There were nine hours total in which these demons powers were at their maximum capacity, especially if the demon of that hour conducted their business during that allotted time space.

These were the devils, the highest ranking demons, promoted and empowered by the reigning kings of Hell. Out of the nine chosen, the first was the son of Satan himself, the Second Ashtirote – Great ruler of the Netherworld, the third known only as the Nameless Demon-God; whom had now stepped from the shadows and identified himself as Mitkiel. The other six I had no prior knowledge of and I am therefore unable to ascribe the concerning titles.

What I did know was that only demons of this caliber were suited to being addressed by any concerning title. So that could only mean that this Eurynomous was of equal stature to that of Ashtirote and Mitkiel themselves. Which certainly did not bode well for anyone intending to confront them.

"Eurynomous, then. Who else?"

The boy nodded, bottom lip quivering. "The second apostle the student and fiancée of the executioner – Mara the Bloodbath. Then comes Balban: The Daemon of Delusion. I believe the two of you have already met. Then finally in the lower right hand – the betrayer. He that once served Mitkiel, now wishes to usurp his throne and gain his title as the Demon-God of Punishment."

"Yes, very good but _he_ who?" I brought the cleaver up and pressed it into the boys opposing cheek. "I require a name, boy. Don't get cryptic with me."

He started crying in earnest and I lost my patience, pushing him down onto his back and bringing my spare fist down repeatedly into his face and neck, wanting to shatter him apart. I forced myself to hold the cleaver at bay, not wanting to injure him beyond repair but requiring some method to vent my fury. I continued to beat that child until he was black and blue, both eyes swollen and nose a bloodied mess but try as I might, none of the wounds remained. They healed before my very eyes, just as a Guardian of Death only even more effectively than even my beloved Tsuzuki was capable of.

"I can't say his name! His name is taboo and I dare not speak it, lest my tongue be split in two!" Pandora screamed over my violent barrage of strikes. His arms were up, providing insubstantial cushions to the occasionally more languid of my attacks. "Don't think that I don't hate what's happened here too, Kazutaka! You weren't the only one who cared about Ukyou!"

"You!" I snatched him up by his shirtfront and hauled him before my most likely crazed expression. "How could you possibly judge a matter such as this?! You … you don't even know who Ukyou was!"

He continued to sob but his voice was growing in confidence and his eyes were bolder. "Of course I knew… of course I knew! The one who did this – _the cleaver_."

"Yes. I am holding a cleaver. I'm glad we're clear on that." I said, holding the bloodstained weapon up high, just to reaffirm that it was a brutal kitchen appliance, capable of exacting terrible damage upon the boy if he continued to be smart. He shook his teary, now only slightly rosy face.

"No. The one who's doing this – the fourth apostle. But he's no longer governed by Mitkiel. He goes by instruction of his own madness. He is one who wants to see not just the sinners but everyone punished! But there are those that he desires by his own sinister nature… those that deserve not punishment but whom he takes regardless. That cleaver in your hand – he uses that to make them be still. You can usually tell the ones he has touched – because they have a mark, behind their ear." He gently tilted his head forward and grazed his nail along behind the shell of his ear. "Just here. He presses the blade there and tells them to be still. He leaves a cut there. Sometimes, the entire ear is cut away because he loses control when he… when he hurts them… And that is from where the _Shukusatsu _usually extends, once he has come inside of your body."

I took a couple of deep breaths. I could feel my usual cold composure returning, having exacted my pent up emotions on the boy. I suppose it is the same principle most people would apply to a stress ball. He gazed up upon me, his face suddenly sympathetic.

"Don't you get it, even now, Kazutaka? With all the evidence before you? The words above the bed, look." I directed my attention once more to that stimulating phrase carved above the headboard in a means to insult my ancient memories. I jerked a little as I felt Pandora's warm hand come up and cup my cheek. "What has been done to Ukyou here today… was done to you, sixteen years ago."

My face was frozen in severe mortification and I felt the memory of that dreadful night come stealing through my mind, every last forsaken sensation and word. I snatched the boy about the wrist and threw him away with me, relinquishing all my strength in this one task. He hit the floor with a satisfying crunch and rolled down the hallway, submerging himself back within the bedroom. He hustled to his feet as I came stalking after him.

"Be silent of that!" I snapped, advancing each step that he retreated. "My memories don't play me false, boy. I am not a gullible fool like the man that I love. I know of what became of me and who perpetrated that heinous act upon my innocent body! It was _that man_! _SAKI SHIDOU!! _Everything that ever resulted came about because of _him_!"

"NO!" Pandora screamed back at me, with equal if not greater passion. I found myself alternatively retreating from him as he stormed at me, his hands raised and slightly curled as though demonstrating internal frustration. "Saki Shidou never put a foot wrong! He worked hard for you! All his money, he put towards buying your horrible mother her drugs, just so that she wouldn't stitch your arms up whenever you got a cut or messed up your 'perfection' in some way! Saki's mother and guardian died and he was stuck in a children's home until your fathers' guilt got the best of him and only deigned to take him in. Saki loved his half-brother. He loved his friends, Ukyou and Oriya. He would have died for them! Any one of them!"

I felt my face bloat with fury at this blind dictation. "How dare you speak to me of things beyond your understanding, you facetious brat!"

"One of your eyes may be false but your memory surely can not be as fabricated as that hunk of metal in your socket!" The boys' temper had cooled and his posture relaxed completely, features slumping in representation of a weary, defeatist sort of manner. He sighed deeply, declining his head and nursing one arm favorably, eyes now directed towards the carpet. "Don't blame Saki Shidou any longer, Kazutaka! He never smiled that day! That was an image that your weak heart gave birth to, to protect your credibility for everything that was done beyond that one moment." He rapped his chest with the flat of his hand, face brimming with powerful emotions. I opened my mouth to rebut but he beat me to it, talking so loudly and quickly that I could not hope to be legible above him. "Hear me out! The fourth apostle, Kazutaka… I cannot tell you his name but I can say that which he comes upon us. A creature of fabrication. Of not the one guise but any of that which he feels appropriate given the situation. A mimic. A _mimic, _Kazutaka. The fourth apostle… he is a collector of innocence. He steals virginity from those that possess it and accumulates pleasure from deriving them of that pride. He especially covets those that are young and beautiful or those of intense sexual experience but of late, he has turned his eye on one virgin who has only ripened by remaining so for such a great deal of time. _That _is the danger that your lover, Asato Tsuzuki is in. The Fourth means to take his innocence…."

"You know this for fact?" I asked, feeling the handle of the cleaver loosen in my grip. I tightened my fingers about it, not wanting to slice my own toes off due to my own waning attention span. The boy nodded in response to my question.

"Beyond reasonable doubt. So if you wish to enact revenge for what has been done unto Ukyou this day, you need only await his arrival upon your doorstep. He will come for Asato Tsuzuki. To covet his innocence just as he coveted yours, in exchange for the culling of your infected parents, both touched by the _Shukusatsu, _born down to them from its' very first victim forty-two years ago"

"But… Saki… it was Saki who made the mark…" I insisted, wondering even as I spoke these words, just who I was trying to convince with them. "It was him… he stood over me with that sword in his hand. He cut my cheek open!"

"Wake up Kazutaka!" Pandora said, though he spoke without the malice one might normally enforce upon such words. His eyes met mine again and he smiled, sincerely. Softly and as innocently as he had been that first night I had seen him at Tokyo cinema. "The Fourth servant- he fooled you! He turned your eye of suspicion on your brother and to your brother he did the same! You suspected one another of the crime that neither one was guilty of! When you confronted Saki, he figured you gone mad and he defended himself! He cut your cheek – in self defense – he raised the sword a second time and for that he suffered the consequences intended for him all along!"

"That's wrong…" I said. "Wrong…" But by his will or perhaps being confronted by an alternative view of that day, a vision appeared before my very eyes. Just as it had that day in the Tokyo bathroom it came upon me and forced upon my mind something either entirely fabricated in order to manipulate me or to beg the truth of me.

The vision revealed that day again. Saki Shidou standing over Kazutaka Muraki's splayed body, the faint shine of blood leaking from a slice on his left cheek. His eyes fearful as he stared up at his older half-brother. The brother born of his father's infidelity.

There were words there. His brother was speaking…

"_Ridiculous!" I wanted to scream. "This never happened! This never took place ever! What a lie you force upon me!"_

"This has to end now, Kazutaka." The older boy said, the three-foot katana in his hand pointed directly at the silver haired boys face. But it was not held with confidence. The blade trembled along with the fingers that held it. "I won't wait around another day, biding my time until you decide to make your move."

"Saki?" The younger boys voice trembled. "Were… you the one who… killed them?"

_Why did I ask that? I _knew _by then that he had killed them. He had told me the night before._

Saki was smiling… smiling down at him.

… but…

…no…

… not a smile… a… grimace… his eyes were wide, they did not match the expression that I had in my memory. They were protruding, set back hard against his lids.

His breathing was… harsh.

"Stop it Kazutaka. You stop that right now, do you hear me?"

_He never said that._

"I'm sorry but this is what you deserve for all that you've done to me! Done to us!"

_All I ever did was hesitate in accepting you! How was that deserving of what you did to me? To our _family

"Y-you_… _bastard!!"

Saki's eyes were dead set in his head, his lips curled back in determination. He raised the sword.

Muraki could see the servant approaching. He had a shotgun in his hand. He kept his frightened expression, widened his eyes. Looked so helpless that…

… that what…?

What had I been trying to do…?

"I'm sorry." Saki said as the muscles in his arm tensed. He made a move as though to bring the sword down. A shot rang out. The air was filled with the overwhelming stench of gunpowder. Blood blossomed in the upper corner of Saki's back like a flower and he collapsed on top of Muraki's trembling body like a lonely puppet whose strings had been viciously cut.

"Saki…"

I brought my face down toward the floor and someone was screaming over and over again and that someone was me. Sixteen years of pursuing a dead man who had not been guilty in the first place? I couldn't allow such a notion to become reality! It would mean… it would mean I had wasted my life! My entire _life_!

Saki was guilty. He had killed them both, both of them dead by his hands. That was the only truth I could accept. Anything else… no, there was no alternative.

Mr. Tsuzuki… how I wished I was your victim then. I felt no shame in desiring the responsibility of all my evil to be stripped from me in that very moment. To be rendered a helpless creature, who knew no better then what he had spent sixteen years doing and loving and feeling.

"No… it was Saki… it was Saki who made me…"

Pandora was standing before the open doorway. I could only see his legs; I had no idea what expression he now wore. But his voice registered pity and lord how I despised him for that insult.

"Saki was played a fool, just as you were." The boy said in that soft temperate tone. "He could never have killed your parents. Even when he thought you were a murderer, he couldn't bring himself to drop that blade. He was happy and he was in love with life. His parents – the ones you asked him about, you know, before he came to live with you? They were good to him. They gave him a soft heart. He might have fought with you from time to time but that didn't mean he didn't love you."

"Shut up!" I pressed my hands down over my ears, trying to block out his words. He was reconstructing someone in a positive light, someone that had to stay the way I remembered him. A bad person. The one responsible for turning me into the creature I was now. "Don't feed me any more of your lies!"

"And you know, that's why you killed that Hisoka Kurosaki so violently. _That's _why you gave _him _part of the _Shukusatsu_ because it was like getting back at Saki for what you thought he did." Pandora's voice was getting louder and more excited as though he were figuring this nonsense out as he stood there. "Because Hisoka – and Saki – look a lot alike, ne? They both have dirty blond hair and the same slender shape. They have the same face, similar voices even. And even our names – Saki – Kuro_saki_. I can see how you made the connection!" He knelt down, wrapping his arms around his knees and trying to see into my eyes. "It doesn't matter though, Kazutaka. I forgive you. Even if nobody else does. It wasn't your fault what was done to us."

I was getting a very nasty feeling and I looked up into that boys face, I felt my scalp prickle as I truly took him in, comprehending only that physical representation and ignoring the personality that was so different.

Dirty blond hair…

… slender figure…

… those petite features…

… that smile and those tiny pupils…

… only one person, who had ever only addressed me as Kazutaka, regardless of how impromptu our introduction and the minimal time of our acquaintanceship.

As though registering what I was doing, the boy turned his back to me and tugged his t-shirt up until it rested over the curve of his neck. The entire length of his back was exposed to me, including the mottled circle of scar tissue adorning his left shoulder like some grisly flower arrangement.

The boy that I had spent sixteen years attempting to bring back to life, all so that I might slay him with my own two hands –

-had never truly died in the first place.

"You see, Saki Shidou couldn't have raped you on that bed of roses." The boy raised himself back upon his long limber legs and turned about, framed by the shattered arch of the doorway. Now that my mind could comprehend him, I couldn't avoid how much he resembled that same Saki Shidou I had met that one day all those years ago, in a world that seemed so far removed from this one.

_A pleasure, Kazutaka._

"Because demons require their pet to be a virgin upon acquisition, Kazutaka. And thus I died as one." He smiled at me and I felt my already razed nerves splinter.

"Go home to Mitkiel, _Pet._" I accentuated the words as I rose to my feet, judging the weight of the cleaver in my hand as I watched the boys smile fall from his face. "And tell him that my mind is not easily fooled by his tricks. I know very well what you are trying to do and I will not fall for it. Saki Shidou destroyed my family sixteen years ago and my resolve will not be weakened by anything he attempts to throw at me."

"Kazutaka…" The boy whined and his expression dramatically shifted as I reared back my arm and hurled the cleaver at him with all the resolve I could muster. The sharp blade sliced through the air so quickly it made an audible whistle, which I was hoping to hear extinguished with a fleshy 'thunk' as it imbedded itself between the putrid doppelgangers eyes. The boy was not as slow as he was ineffective however and my vision was suddenly obscured by a cloud of pure white, almost translucent feathers that puffed outwards from where he had been standing. At first I thought he had counterattacked with a pillow and then realized that it was simply teleportation refuse. My mind briefly flashed back to the fire at Kyoto University. Something, surrounded by white feathers, had pulled me out of the fire, just before it had engulfed my weak body completely.

I had no time to further stint on that, which I suppose was a blessing, considering that further deliberation might ultimately affect my steady mindset and threaten my sanity. Or what little was left of it, if one must get technical. The method that allowed me to annul my train of thought could have been better however.

I did indeed hear that fleshy 'thunk' heralding the unification of blade and flesh, of which I was quite satisfied with. When the feathers cleared however, I was confronted with perhaps the third most devastating shock I'd been witness to that day.

Asato Tsuzuki stared down at the cleaver protruding from his chest with something of an aghast expression. It was only then, at that moment, that I considered how everything must have appeared from his point of view.

Kazutaka Muraki in the same bedroom as murdered, former fiancée. Currently in the midst of throwing the murder weapon about with considerable girlish glee. Hands' sporting a great number of scrapes and bruises from beating a conspicuously absent conspiring boy in the face.

Why Mr. Tsuzuki had chosen to appear at Ukyou's establishment right at that moment, I cannot say. Where the other Guardians were, I also cannot say. How I was going to explain this one cannot be said. What I could say and did say, was this:

"Oh _shit._"

Eloquent, no. But be reasonable. What more _could_ you say?

**- **_**EC**_** -**

**NaPap: **Well, that's another long chapter out of the way! Things are starting to clear up a bit now, aren't they?

**Tsuzuki: **… No. I still have no idea what's going on! Who's the bad guy in this?! If it isn't Mitkiel, then why did he suck us into that Otherworld and sic his gang of demented babies onto us?

**NaPap: **Tsuzuki, I don't want to ruin the surprise! … But just to ruin the surprise, did you happen to notice that Pandora said the real baddie is a mimic?

**Tsuzuki: **Yes…

**NaPap: **Did it perhaps occur to you that maybe the real baddie was _emulating _Mitkiel?

**Tsuzuki: **… But… the real Mitkiel still made Pandora his pet, right?

**NaPap: **Yes and that was mean but that doesn't necessarily make him the villain of the piece.

**Saki: **Though it really should.

**Muraki: **I don't believe any of that rubbish! Saki was at fault! He's the bad guy, him! Him! (Points at Saki with a shaky finger)

**Saki: **But aren't you glad that you know the truth, brother? Now we can be a family again! Gimme cuddles! (Glomphs Muraki sweetly)

**Muraki: **(Cries) NOOOO! Get offa me!

**Watari: **Yay! This stupid chapter is over! Now, onto the best chapter in all of Dark Adaptation history!

**Count: **At long last, a certifiable lemon scene in this good for nothing cock-tease of a fanfic!

**NaPap: **Ah, you know me so well, Count. (Waves to readers) Please review dear readers and I'll work hard to finish off the next chapter! And what can you expect to see in the next update? Well, Oriya's here to tell you! Take it away, Oriya!

**Oriya: **(Clears his throat) Next time in Dark Adaptation, Watari determines the true identity of the murderer and finds out that Seki is still alive. Of equal importance, we finally do it, which means some of the readers will be substantially more happy than usual.

**Muraki: **I'm not happy!

**NaPap: **You're not a reader and I don't particularly care if the OriTari lemon makes you happy or not. Your time will come, Muraki. And when it does, Tsuzuki will come too.

**Tsuzuki: **(Dumb expression as he tries to figure this out)

**NaPap: **Oh and before we bid you farewell, here are the reviewer reviews for chapter 21 that I'm not able to respond to because the reviewers are anonymous. I just thought I'd post them down here because you guys deserve to be thanked too!

**Chazmy:**

**Muraki: **You've gone too far this time, NaPap! Now you're causing your readers to spontaneously wet themselves! (Points to Chazmy's squishy chair)

**NaPap: **Gee… I feel awful bad about the state of your chair Chazmy… not to mention your pants… but I guess that just goes to show how much you enjoyed chapter 21, ne?

**Watari: **And you ruined her mouse by making her drool all over it! … Hey, that probably explains why _mine _never works… Mystery solved.

**Oriya: **Yes dear, all well and fascinating. (Helps Chazmy mop up her drool) How many times did you actually end up reading that chapter, my dear? Did you end up drooling and wetting yourself each time? Things could take some time to clean up if that's the case!

**Watari: **Don't worry, Chazmy! We've brought you provisions for the next update! (Hands over a lifetime supply of towels, buckets and pull ups) There ya go! That way you can drool and wet yourself to your hearts desire and your floor and mouse will be none the messier for it!

**Tsuzuki: **Hope you liked the update too Chazmy! Kind of embarrassing for me but I still hope it was nice for you to read. You didn't wet yourself reading that did you? (Looks very concerned)

**Muraki: **I guess we'll find out soon enough. (Walks in carrying a mop)

**NaPap: **I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter so much, Chazmy! Now I'm really looking forward to presenting the lemon to you, seeing how eager you were at having those two just in the shower together!

**Watari: **It's going to be marvelously splendiferously smexy! You'll see Chazmy!

**NaPap: **Thanks for reading, love! I hope to hear from you soon! Get that mouse checked out in the meantime, eh? (Huggle)

**Saraphita:**

**Watari: **(Gets cuddled) Yeah! Poor little me! It's a good thing I've got Oriya around to take care of me, huh? (Nods in agreement) He certainly is a very fine gentleman!

**Oriya: **Well… thankyou for saying so Miss Saraphita. (Returns hug gingerly) I just do what I feel needs to be done. I'm not sure that makes me a gentleman but I'm flattered you see it in such a positive light.

**NaPap: **I'm not sure if the fic is getting more interesting or not Saraphita! I do know that it's getting more confusing! And I'm actually quite amazed that you're keeping up with all the random twists I've thrown into the mix! It certainly strains my itty bitty brain to say the least…

**Watari: **(Huggles Saraphita again) I can't wait for the lemon either! It's gonna be so good! I'm gonna love that Oriya and snuggle him and kissle him and-

**Muraki: **What on earth is a 'kissle'?

**Watari: **Something _you'll _never get from Tsuzuki, meanie doctor.

**Ichibana:** Awesome! I'm being acknowledged by a reader! (Laughs and pats his stomach) Thanks for congratulating me, though I didn't exactly go to a great deal of effort to get this way.

**NaPap: **I guess it is sort of cute and weird at the same time, eh Saraphita? And I'm sure glad you're enjoying the revelations because there was another big one in this chapter, as you may have noticed! I just keep laying 'em on thick, don't I?

**Muraki: **Yes. And I think it's mighty time you stopped! Less revelations more fornication!

**Watari: **For once, I ain't arguing with the Mad-Eye. Let's get ourselves some bone fide A-C-T-I-O-N! I gotta lot hormones to work off!

**NaPap: **And don't you worry about me, Saraphita! I been done taking good care of myself, ya hear? Hope ya enjoyed the update and don't you worry little lady; that lemon scene is well on its' way to an Internet near you!

**Watari: **HELL YEAH!

**Death sown:**

**NaPap: **You really were involved in this fic, weren't you? Two hours sitting in front of the computer without moving… geez, your bladder must have been full!

**Tsuzuki: **And English is not your original language, huh? That must have made things a little more difficult for you, huh?

**Watari: **We're so glad to hear you're enjoying it! Even if it has worked on you like some crazy addiction.

**NaPap: **(Laughs) Yeah, sometimes I wish that I _was _continuing on from where the real Descendants of Darkness left off, just because of the effort I've been putting into this fic! But that's Yoto Matsushita's privilege as the author of this fantastic series. I'm just happy to know that readers like you feel that I portray the characters realistically and faithfully. That honestly makes all the long hours worthwhile.

**Watari: **And one of your favorite pairings is Oriya/Watari? Yay, we've hooked another one!

**Oriya: **Join the club. Fans like you are so hard to find. You tend to lean a little to the side of… well… non-existent.

**Muraki: **Non-existent except for NaPap.

**NaPap: **I'm the club in and of itself. And of course it's wonderful that you favor the Muraki/Tsuzuki pairing too! That's always a joy to hear! Nice to know that you agree with me about Muraki's behavior… I thought it might be a tad unrealistic if he just suddenly warped into a goody two-shoes. So he's still got the same mind-set, he's just not killing at the moment.

**Muraki: **Nope. I'm just trying to be a sweet, sweet lover… if Mr. Tsuzuki will ever let me.

**Tsuzuki: **(Dramatically) NEVER!

**NaPap: **In a few updates. (Continues reading review) I'm also like that I didn't have it so Oriya was in love with Muraki. That name schtick was so old and overused! Can't he just be the guys' friend? Can't his loyalty be based on a deep and profound friendship? I'm sincerely loyal to my friends and that doesn't mean I want to get in their pants!

**Muraki: **Yes it does.

**Tsuzuki: **Bad example, using yourself there, NaPap.

**NaPap: **Shut up! (Hugs Death Sown) Now, now… I'm sure your days are much better than that! But if you're having a bad day today, I do hope that this update cheers you up and makes everything seem better. And boys? She says she likes you all. _Equally._

**All: **(Stare at each other)

**Tsuzuki: **Well obviously _I'm _the favorite.

**Watari: **Bullshit! Why would she like _you _the most, when I'm so genki and cute?

**Muraki: **I'm evil _and _dashing. I've got it made. Clearly _I _would be her number one choice.

**Watari: **You suck, Muraki!

(All three start fighting amongst themselves)

**Oriya: **(Blinks) Well… let's just say I'm the favorite for now, eh? (Gives Death Sown a little hug) Next week it can be one of the other boys. If one of them ever wins this fight.

**NaPap: **Thanks for the great long review, Death Sown! Hope to hear from you again soon!

Well, that's it for the anonymous reviewer reviews, so that's my cue to hit the road! (Waves to readers) See you next time everyone! Take care crossing the road, don't eat chocolate after midnight and don't forget to wash behind your ears lest a potato grow there! Adios!


	23. Watari: Loves Last Surrender

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer: **Yami no Matsuei is the property of Yoko Matsushita, not the property of NaPap. And don't think I'm not suing!

**A/N: **Well dear readers, I have finally completed the first ever Dark Adaptation lemon! It has taken a lot of time, a lot of long nights… and a lot of cigarettes. (Puffs away on very last fag)

**Tsuzuki: **(Coughs) I sure hope the emphysema was worth it.

**NaPap: **(Puffs out a cloud of smoke) We'll let the readers decide that, Sugar Pants.

**Tsuzuki: **SUGAR-PANTS!??!

**Watari: **Whoo-hoo! The best chapter is here! _Finally!_ I'm finally going to get to boff Oriya!

**Muraki: **No one cares.

**Watari: **I'm gonna boff him _good!_

**Muraki: **NO ONE CARES.

**Oriya: **You're just bitter that we get to have our lemon first. You're especially bitter because it only took _me _a fortnight to get _my _Guardian of Death into bed. How long has it taken you again?

**Muraki: **… (Stands up) I'm going out to drink.

**Tsuzuki: **Against all common sense… I'm coming with you. God knows it's better than sticking around and enduring over fifty pages of those two shagging each others lights out. (Leaves with Muraki)

**Watari: **(Huggles Oriya) Never mind them. They're just _sooo _jealous of our sexiness.

**Count: **NaPap, I am so proud of you! This is one absolutely gratuatous lemon! (Huggles NaPap) My little protégé is all grown up…

**NaPap: **Oh and readers, since this is such a positively ginormous chapter, I've had to cut it in three.

**Saki: **… So it's a threesome update then?

**Watari: **A threesome…? Who's the third person?

**Oriya: **… I didn't know that was _this _kind of fic.

**NaPap: **It's not, I'm just cutting the fic into three portions for easier reading. Though… a Descendants of Darkness threesome… (Visualizes) … I'm gonna buy me some more cigarettes. (Skips out)

**Watari: **Let's read along with the reviewers, Ori!

**Oriya: **Sure thing, Kitten. (Both sit down to read chapter)

**Saki and Count: **(Also sit down and read)

**Oriya: **… Go away.

**Count: **Aww... isn't he the most adorable thing? He's _shy!_ (Cuddles up to Oriya)

**Oriya: **Please don't read over our shoulders. It feels too much like an invasion of privacy.

**Saki: **Bit late for that, Senpai. All the fanfiction readers will be looking over your shoulders soon enough.

**Watari: **Oooh, kind of kinky...

**Oriya: **Yutaka!

**Watari: **Sorry!

**NaPap: **Ahh... here's where I introduce the warning for this chapter! Boy, my favorite time of the day! (Clears throat) Following chapter contains extremely explicit thermonuclear erotic gay lovin'! Why? Because it's my fic and I can so I will. If you don't like, get on outta here and go hide under your blankets and wait for the sun to rise. Everyone who's still with me: Feel free to go on through and I hope you enjoy the ride!

**Watari: **I know I will!

**Oriya: **YUTAKA! EXTREME DIGNITY BREAKDOWN HERE!

**Watari: **Terribly sorry, old chomp.

**Loves Last Surrender**

Sometimes the snow comes down in june  
Sometimes the sun goes round the moon  
I see the passion in your eyes  
Sometimes it's all a big surprise  
Cause there was a time when all I did was wish  
You'd tell me this was love  
Its not the way I hoped or how I planned  
But somehow it's enough

And now we're standing face to face  
Isn't this world a crazy place  
Just when I thought our chance had passed  
You go and save the best for last

All of the nights you came to me  
When some silly girl had set you free  
You wondered how you'd make it through  
I wondered what was wrong with you

Cause how could you give your love to someone else  
And share your dreams with me  
Sometimes the very thing youre looking for  
Is the one thing you can't see

And now we're standing face to face  
Isn't this world a crazy place  
Just when I thought our chance had passed  
You go and save the best for last

Sometimes the very thing you're looking for  
Is the one thing you can't see

Sometimes the snow comes down in june  
Sometimes the sun goes round the moon  
Just when I thought our chance had passed  
You go and save the best for last

You went and saved the best for last

_-Vanessa Williams "Save the best for last"- _

The night had not been easy on me. Several times I had been forced to wake Oriya and have him hold the bucket beneath my mouth so I could evacuate my spoiled stomach. I'd been sick three more times before my body had allowed me to peacefully rest. It hadn't been an easy night on Oriya either and I felt so guilty for the trouble I had caused him but I knew that I would have had an even tougher time of things had he not been there. I was grateful beyond words for everything he had done for me.

I woke up the next morning with aches all through my body. Throwing up the previous night had successfully flushed the Angels Blood from my system and the residual wounds I'd received from my scuffle in the alleyway had already healed. I felt stiff and sore, as though I'd fallen asleep in a bed of rocks and some of the swelling still remained around my right eye, from where my now healed nose had been broken. I wagered that the mark would fade in less than an hour. Until then, I would just have to be extra careful with how I treated my face.

I rolled over, wincing from my muscles aching protests and reached my arm out, groping for Oriya's comforting body. Such was my bleary state of mind right then, that I'm sure it would have come to no surprise to him, should I have allowed myself to become just the _teensiest_ bit frisky in my attentions. Fortunately for Oriya's sake, he proved absent on that occasion and after a brief review of the time (7:40) I concluded that my chivalrous host was out tending to his morning ablutions. That meant a warm up (5:30 am) then a 6 km run (taking leave of Kokakuro at 5:45 on the dot and then returning at 6:30. Quite an achievement with his back, knee and hip aggravations) then spending a few hours practicing the varying martial arts styles he had learnt and perfected throughout the years. Mrs. Koneko had given me a brief overview when she had caught me observing/perving on Oriya one morning. First, he moved through the _kata _of Iaido, of which there were four sections total. The first section was the draw and cut: Nukitsuke. Oriya would practice this technique on falling leaves and cherry blossoms, though I'm sure they had done nothing to deserve such treatment. He would stand perfectly still and shut his eyes. Then, somehow he would sense the falling of the unsuspecting foliage and draw the sword out and horizontal, slicing the leaf or blossom directly in half. Following that was the… Kirioroshi. This was the main employ of the technique and from what I could recall was a two-handed cut down. Then the Chiburi or blood shake off. (Hisoka could really benefit from such a technique) and finally Noto, where the sword was re-sheathed. Following the completion of Iaido, he progressed through the stages of Aikido, Mauy-Tai, the Ninjitsu, Kendo, Kyuudo, Suvate, Jujitsu, Tai Kwan Do, Eagle Claw and that which Oriya trained most passionately; Ken-Jutsu. I wasn't sure how he had been able to master so many varying martial arts styles, especially at his young age but I had seen him train and knew by impression that he was an exquisite natural in _any _form of body combat. It was deeply admiral but not enviable. I could only imagine the degree of dedication it would take to maintain both his skill and his body.

I wished that body was still in bed with me. Perhaps as a direct result of what happened to me the night before, I was feeling just a little bit horny. Strange though that may sound, I can rationalize my feelings in saying that a part of me felt insipidly dirty for what I had been subjected to by the hands of those men. Alternatively, I longed to engage with Oriya physically, as though the act would subsequently cleanse my emotions and memories. It was a drowsy, lethargic sort of arousal. If Oriya had been in that bed, I could have very easily just slung my legs on either side his waist and dropped myself onto his morning erection. I ached for that intimacy, for the connection between us. I wanted to reaffirm my self-dignity; to know that I was worth this divine mans' attentions. At the very least, it would allow me to rest comfortably in the knowledge that I was better than what those awful men had made me out to be.

After grasping about the bedsheets for a suitable period of time, I came to the disappointing, abject conclusion that my hormones were not going to be permitted an outlet. At least, not immediately. Oriya had escaped my clutches. Oh damn. He would pay _dearly_ for this…

I rolled back towards my assigned half of the bed, moving my body with a certain tenderness so as not to aggravate any of my wounds that might have been in the process of closing over. My healing ability wasn't as advanced as Tsuzuki's and as such I was required to preserve an even greater degree of care whilst moving about. Despite Oriya having washed me the night before, I still felt awful and gritty, like I'd gone to the beach and then come home to bed without taking a shower first. My mouth was gummy, my teeth coated in thin layer of gunk from having thrown up so much during the night. I reached up and felt my hair, almost regretting it the moment I did. Naturally Oriya hadn't bothered to employ the use of any one of my hair care products (That was the last thing on both our minds) and without the detangling lotion in particular, my blond mane now floofed about my head like a magnificent frizzy halo. Wiry strands stuck out from the tight braid and it was twisted into a mat of steelo upon the crown, where I had been twisting about on the pillows, sleeping my troubled sleep. I did the hand to nose breath test and almost fainted at the foul scent that wafted back at me. My legs were curled up tightly beneath the sheets and I ran my hand up one of them, sighing deeply at the spiky barbs that met my palm. I was a real mess. A real mess. Now _I _was glad that Oriya had gone about his morning routine as usual, because the last thing I wanted was for him to see me in such a state. No doubt he'd already gotten a good eyeful this morning, (not to mention I probably looked about ten times more lovely the night before) though I hoped it had been too dark for him to have a detailed gander. I had to rectify this.

I had to get hot. _Fast._

I climbed out of bed, moving gingerly as though my feet were made of hallow porcelain. My body was flushed and I felt as though my skin was trembling. I'd had pneumonia as a kid and the recovery period following my return to health was very similar to what my body suffered post beating. I vaguely recalled that Oriya had set my glasses down in the bathroom and I navigated my shaky way back into the en suite, plucking them off of the sink area and sliding them along the bridge of my nose. Right. Eyesight corrected. Now the dangerous trek back to Base!

It took a minute to coordinate myself properly but I was finally able to hurl my dazed ass out into the hallway and make my disoriented way towards my assigned room, hoping I could lock myself down just long enough to get my head together. And spruce my hair up, of course.

I'd barely made it three steps in what turned out to be the wrong direction, when my cover was blown by Miyamoto emerging from one of the rooms down the hall, a casual kimono of red and white sanctioned tightly about her thin, waify figure. I ground to a halt, realizing all too late that I should have gone into Ghost Form if I'd hoped to avoid running into anyone. It was pointless to slip into the Second Layer of reality now she had caught sight of me. She called out a greeting and just as I was nearing my finger to my lips in a delayed effort to shush her, Oriya appeared from the stairwell behind her and charged towards me. I'm not sure if his arrival coinciding with my awakening was a miraculous coincidence, or whether he had somehow sensed that I was up but I could tell from his current attire that he had just removed himself from training. He was wearing a faded pair of gray tracksuit pants, obviously his choice of clothing for his early morning run. He was currently bare foot. He had no top on. His upper body was shiny with sweat, his hair knotted into a messy bun on the back of his head. The strands that had fallen free during his exercise were stuck to the damp flesh of his back. The defined curves of his abdomen looked hard and greased and I found my formally sanctioned hormones rushing back to dominate my senses. Visions of Oriya and I writhing together naked on a bed of Sakura were suddenly dancing in my head. I was rooted in place by my zeal of lustful infatuation. I even forgot for a moment how I myself appeared, right there at that moment.

But Oriya was having none of this. Purposefully evading my appreciative bedroom eyes, he grabbed me by the upper arm and bustled me back past Miyamoto's slightly nonplussed expression, pulling us down the stairs into the reception area. I didn't want to have this conversation, especially not in front of Mrs. Koneko, who I had only just noticed, was sweeping the floor leading to the entrance hall. Her steel gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun, professional even at this time of the morning. She only glanced up once during the course of Oriya's sermon and I was grateful that she at least pretended not to hear any of what he leveled at me. It was an impressive tirade. Oriya reamed me up one side and down the other.

And not in that fun spanky way.

He went on and on for a bit about things I already knew and I felt the slightest bit bullied by the way he had me bottled up against the wall, his impressive frame towering over me, almost blocking out the light streaming in from the entrance windows. He didn't hit me again, which I was initially grateful for but I was soon drawn to the conclusion that a physical reaction would have been preferable. He yelled at me about acting responsibly, about taking things into consideration, thinking ahead, using my loaf, etc, etc. I could feel my cheerful façade already beginning to crumble and it wasn't even eight o'clock!

"And if you think there's anything that requires your attentions outside of Kokakuro at such an hour again, you come to _me_, do you understand? The Gushoshin told me you have weak combatative powers, so think about that a bit before you go rushing off trying to play hero!" I don't think he realized that he was repeating himself; he was so caught up in his emotions. I'm no empath but when I finally forced myself to meet his eyes, I could see a very strong sensation broiling within, leaking out to gradually encompass the majority of his face. I realized almost instantaneously that just like the night before, Oriya was expressing his concern in an overtly irate manner. He'd had a nasty scare and apparently that trauma had yet to wear off.

"Didn't you tell me all this last night?" I asked and I don't think Oriya appreciated my cheek. He shook his finger in my face, hair lashing about his shoulders. I berated myself for even finding something entirely sensual in his anger.

"Yes I did but I wasn't sure you would remember it." So apparently, it bore repeating. And repeating. And repeating again. He was not about to let up on this. It seemed to be a particularly sore point with him that I had not requested his help in the first place.

To be honest, I don't know why I hadn't asked Oriya to come with me. Originally, I had thought it was because I hadn't wanted to disturb him but now I understood that this had only been an excuse.

Deep in my heart, I knew that I had drawn a line between Oriya and the case. I wanted to keep these two aspects as separated as I realistically could. Otherwise the guilt would be enough to effectively finish me.

Oriya's cheeks were rosy from yelling and his hair was mussed at the front from the errant dictations of his head. He brought his hand against the wall beside my neck, leaning his face down close to mine so that I could no longer evade his line of sight.

"And don't, _don't _you _ever _flout my authority whilst you are within this _okiya_, do you understand me? I'm trying to take care of both you _and _my girls and you are not making it easy!"

"I know, I know! Sorry!" I clenched my pajama sleeve between my fingers and dabbed gingerly at the corners of my eyes. They were starting to well but I kept them wide, trying my darndest not to cry again. I had to be strong from now on. I was a man, for the love of God. I couldn't drop my bundle every time Oriya got mad at me, which I could only ascertain from what I had seen of his personality so far, may have been a fairly regular occurrence. "Are ya… ya gonna contact the Summons Section?"

It was in his rights, of course. I was contracted to Oriya for the due service of time that it took to solve the case but if the client reported dissatisfaction with the guardian to which they had been assigned, the Summons Section had a responsibility to have that agent removed from the case and replaced by a suitable representative, ASAP. I'm sure that Oriya had a copy of the contract in his possession and was no doubt aware that having me shipped out of here was in his immediate list of options.

"Am I gonna- What ya think I'm gonna-_tell on you?!_" He sounded angrier, if that was even possible. He grabbed me by both shoulders and made a woman of me, tugging me right up against him and staring me directly in the eyes. "What you did last night was so thoughtless and insensitive. I've barely buried my girls and you decide to take yourself out and put yourself in almost the exact same position they were in. Did you even stop to think about how your actions were going to affect me?"

"Affect you?" I asked softly. I couldn't concentrate properly, not when he was so close to me and so beautiful in his despair. "I know you had to go out of you way but-"

"_But? _Don't you get it, you dumb blond?! I was scared for you! I don't want to lose you!"

I think we were both equally startled by his candor and we stood there for a moment, staring at each other with bulging eyes and awning mouths. I felt acutely self-conscious of how I looked, more so then I had before. And the drops of sweat on Oriya's chest shone more brightly, leaving gleaming trails as they rolled down the tanned flesh of his chest. I followed one beads progress as it made its languid advancement between his pectorals, through the ridges of his six-pack and sliding almost teasingly into the visible line of his loin. My breath hitched in my throat and my penis grew hard between my legs. My hormones were already in a delicate compromise and Oriya's remarkable physique was certainly not helping matters.

I'm not sure who made the first move. All I knew was that one second we were standing there, staring at one another in thinly veiled longing and the next we were wrapped around each other like clothes in a tumble dryer, his mouth delving against mine with such vigor and masculine experience it made me glad to swing both ways. He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me up on the tips of my toes, bringing us together at an accelerated rate of intimacy. I forced my hands into the band that held his hair loosely in place and tugged it free, allowing the long, soft tresses to slide down his back like a waterfall that had been plugged for too long. The muscles of his back were so broad and developed that I couldn't resist the urge to dig my nails into them. Oriya groaned softly and this act seemed to draw him rapidly back to reality. This wasn't supposed to be about immediate physical gratification, he seemed to be reminding himself. This was about crediting one another with the factual sincerity of our feelings. I on the other hand was so drenched in my want of him that I couldn't even think straight.

He broke the kiss and lowered me just so that my heels could make contact with the floor again. He leant down so that our faces could be level to one another and cupped my cheeks with both deeply calloused hands.

"We've been through enough. Both of us." His eyes were closed, so I duplicated the dramatic effect by lowering my lids into place and allowing darkness to supplement visual intimacy. "Seeing you that way last night… it was just like… how Seki looked when I found her."

Darkness shattered as my eyes fluttered open. Oriya must have registered the sensation because his deep brown orbs met mine the minute my lashes had parted. There was pain there and it was profound and evident.

"I know that there is something between the two of you. But you won't say what the Hell it is and you won't tell me, the _real _reason why you came to Kokakuro." He rubbed his thumb across my cheek and I flinched slightly as he depressed the still healing bruise. I could cope with that small tenor of pain; I desired the intimacy of the act more than I feared the sting. "And… you don't have to. Whatever that connection is, it's not my damn business unless you say it is. You just do your job." He pecked the corner of my lips and I was touched. I could feel my heart threatening to overthrow the boundaries of my chest and come trouncing out into open air. Oriya brought his hand forward to hesitantly touch the side of my neck and such was my adoration of him, that I allowed this usually forbidden contact. "And don't you worry," His voice lowered to a mere hush, as though he were sharing something confidential. "He will receive what is deserved of him."

_'He will receive what is deserved of him__?' _I was stumped for a moment and then it hit me with shocking comprehension. I could practically feel my face go anemic as all the blood catapulted southward and from the feelings of things, took up house in the valley of my guts.

"Oriya… what exactly did I say to you last night?" My recollection of the previous eve was foggy to say the least and I knew that I was no exception to that rule, which rendered most drunken/drugged individuals a little too honest for self esteems sake.

The look on Oriya's face was proof enough that I had dropped one hell of a corker the night before. Granted I hadn't been _completely _honest, otherwise he would have known about Seki. But my god, to think that he now knew my most shameful family secret! We don't talk about those sorts of things! I may exist here and now in the 21st century but I was still technically a child of the fifties/sixties and my mindset was still (in some particular matters) firmly entrenched in that generation. Not to mention I was from the Kansai region and we were a people known to be a little less tolerant of self-pity and more prone to keeping a families affairs, within the family proper. If something bad happened to someone in the immediate family, you didn't speak about it to others, you took care of it and got on with things. This was particularly true in Osaka, where strength of character and spirit were especially prioritized and you'd have best done a damn good job of upholding your families' reputation by crikey! This makes us sound crueler than we truly were but that was certainly not the case. We prided ourselves in being strong and resilient yes but we were also a warm and devoted people. Not just our family but also most of those that we had been acquainted with. (Excluding _him _of course but then again, that is only natural). We had a voracious sense of humor and a grandly optimistic point of view. You might think that it was a little tough, that Reiku and I were expected to just get on with it and not make a big deal of what happened but that was just our ways back then. I indulged myself in feeling victimized for years and years before I eventually grew bored with it. What happened was sad _yes _and I was going to go with it for the rest of my life and subsequently into my death. But it was such a small portion of my life… It happened. It sucked. But dammit, I wanted to _live _and I wanted to _laugh _and I wanted to _smile. _I wasn't about to let that guy take any of that away from me.

And so I went with it. It was there, a part of me. But it was a small part and it was shoved into a far corner and it was dusty and hardly ever reviewed. That man had terrorized me, sodomized me when I had been too young to even understand what was happening and had stolen my innocence that I should have been allowed to offer to whomever I chose to be worthy of it. But he couldn't take my smile. Or my laughter.

Or my life.

I conveyed this to Oriya with fewer words but he got my meaning all the same. I was deeply embarrassed that I had confessed myself to him and in such an emotional fashion. I had made myself out to be a victim, more than I had ever actually viewed myself to be.

I never allowed myself to be a victim. I lived a life of weakness for far too long. But I was strong now. My god, I was strong. Strong enough to feel no shame in admitting it either. I had done things with a level of composure that no one should have ever expected from a man in my position.

"Oriya… I'm sorry if I upset you with my rambling but… believe me," I met his eyes at last and felt my smile lash into place. It always happened when I was nervous or upset. Smiling was my shield. My defense against baring the brunt of people's reactions to the true emotion I was feeling beneath my carefully constructed façade. "I've gotten on with my life. I haven't let that man dominate it with that one cruel thing he did. It happened, yeah. But I got on with it."

He didn't say anything and I couldn't judge his expression, it was as thoughtfully constructed as my own. But he kissed me and instead of being a disabling passion, the act was soft. It was gentle. It was lovely.

I should have been ashamed of myself. A woman should have been where I was standing, experiencing this compassion. Someone that Oriya could really benefit from. I mean, there wasn't a great deal I could offer… Well, aside from the obvious immediate physical gratification, of course.

"About… last night," I began, once our lips had separated. "I didn't say… anything else I shouldn't have said… did I?"

A slow smile coursed its' languid way up Oriya's mouth. "Oh _no_."

I didn't fancy the dodgy way he had chosen to phrase this but I didn't bother to try again because from Oriya's reaction, I wagered that I'd undoubtedly confessed my undying love for him, or some such nonsense. Which wasn't too far off the mark, apparently. My feelings for him _were_ exceptionally strong and growing it seemed with each passing second. That sounds like a cliché, even to my ears but I'm just trying to explain it as best I can. This was how it felt to me. How it _still _feels for me, even now.

Oriya was still smiling as he wrapped his arms about my waist and slid me in close. His nose touched against mine as he spoke.

"It's nothing to worry about." He kissed me again and I wanted it to last forever. "Listen, I'm cutting some of my training today so why don't you come and join me for breakfast? Before the girls get up. I can send a tray up to the Gushoushin. That way, it'll be just you and me."

"And 003 makes three." I commented, pointing over his shoulder to see the small ball of feathery fluff otherwise known as my pet come zooming in as though he'd been shot from a canon. I shook my finger at his slightly befuddled expression as he winged his way over to perch on Oriya's broad shoulder.

**003: **Slippery… hard to get a grip…

"And just _where _have you been all night, young man?" I asked, faux sternly as the little owl starting sliding down Oriya's shoulder, having no dry patch to rest his weight upon. "I'm starting to feel I've been too loose with the leash! I was expecting you to be back hours ago!"

**003: **Don't be mad… I was visiting this canary that lives a few houses down from here… pretty yellow feathers. We preened each other all night…

"Gawd, I don't need to hear that!" I snapped, bringing my hands down over my ears in order to block out my pets gutter talk.

"Ouch, hey now. Mind the claws, little buddy." 003 was apparently digging his talons into the flesh of Oriya's shoulder just a little too tightly. To compensate for the sliding effect, the owl grabbed a hold of a long strand of the samurai's hair and held on for grim life. "Well then, I'll go see to things in the kitchen. Came by the sitting area when you're ready to eat."

"I'll be there soon as I can," I promised, leaning up to give Oriya a light kiss on the cheek, 003 using Oriya's hair to swing himself, Tarzan-like, onto my shoulder once I was close enough. Oriya smiled and gripped my cheeks between his fingers in that manner reminiscent of a doting Grandmother all up in arms about examining your 'liddle puddin''.

"Right. And you might wanna shave that stubble off while you're at it." He gave me a sly wink before turning and strutting off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving me to run mortified fingers across the grizzly blond 5 o'clock shadow that had somehow dictated authority of my face during the night.

Thoroughly disgusted with my appearance I stormed back to the bedroom, uttered a curt 'Good morning' to Gushoushin and got straight into my own morning ablutions. First, I needed to pee. Pretty badly, in fact and I took a sample of my urine so I could test it later to determine what I had been drugged with the previous night. It was amazing that some of the liquid had actually made it to my bladder. I put the bottle away and then set to undressing so that I could take a shower. I was technically clean but I felt as though I had doused myself in honey and then rolled about in grit and the warm water gradually brought me back to my senses. I brushed my teeth, unable to believe that Oriya could kiss me with my tremendously bad morning breath. He must have really been smitten because that sort of thing was just above and beyond the call of chivalry. I didn't usually floss but this morning I forced myself to do it, hating that claggy feeling sliding about my mouth. I fished out a brand new spanking razor and got to work on my legs, skimming the blade up over the paling skin until every last one of those nasty spikies were gone. Then I did my face, angling the razor carefully so as to avoid aggravating the still healing bruise. I didn't wash my hair, tempted though I was to start from scratch. It just would have taken more time to get it done up just the way I liked it and I certainly wasn't going to waste a second more than was absolutely necessary. I had my hair bundled up beneath a shower cap, manly as it was to employ such an accessory.

Once I had done my legs and face, I moved onto my armpits, congratulating myself on having thought of this at the last minute. It took a while but at long last I felt squeaky clean and more in touch with what was going on around me. I climbed out of the shower and pulled off the plastic cap, giving myself a hasty rub down before wrapping the towel about my waist and bouncing over to the vanity mirror.

I already looked better and there was slightly more color in my cheeks, not on account of the bruising which finally seemed set to just give up and die. I unearthed my treasured tweezers and set to work straightening out my eyebrows. They had grown a little unruly the past week or so and I was ashamed to have been so remiss of them. My mind drifted unaccountably to Tsuzuki and I hoped that he was keeping up his beauty regime without me around to nag him. I usually took it upon myself to shape his eyebrows for him and in return when the ends of my hair started to get raggedy, I would pop on over to his place and Tsuzuki would trim them for me. It was a fair trade and it worked out pretty well for us. Now however, we were forced to perform these odd little jobs on our own. And even though Tsuzuki and I weren't flamboyant queers (that applies to him more so than me because I still find women abjectly fascinating) we did appreciate keeping our appearances neatly refined. That was our quirk to bear, I suppose.

I had a little time and I thought that it wouldn't take me long, so I decided to go full quid with my appearance that day and whipped out the hair straightner. Having it sticking out every which way was _really _distracting, in more ways than one and I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate when I felt so uncomely. I first sprayed my hair with a heat protection gloss and then set to work, tugging down clumps of my blond hair and straightening it out, piece by piece. My hair was usually wavy and so with the bounce eradicated, it now hung nearly as low as Oriya's. It didn't take as long as I thought it would. There was only a slight kink to my hair and it was already mostly straight, so the process took a mere fifteen minutes, a record for me! I liked the way I looked and I felt rather chuffed as I packed up the straightner, rubbed my body down with butterscotch scented moisturizer, applied some mascara, sprayed myself with deodorant and then gingerly dabbed at the length of my neck and behind my knees with cologne. Right, ready to rock and roll!

Well, after I was dressed of course. Rocking and rolling in the nude could be considered a tad uncomely, even for an old swinger. Thanks Tsuzuki.

What I could remember of Oriya's words from the night before had made me feel a little better about expressing myself physically. Usually I'd prefer to keep my neck and the majority of my body covered, less I inspire the wrong sort of reactions from people. It was the one paranoid factor that I couldn't shake of that event in my childhood. But Oriya's kind assurance had given me some measure of freedom and now I kind of felt that it was okay if I looked sexy.

Good thing too. It was a real scorcher outside.

You know what I mean. The kind of heat that sears sunburn directly onto the back of your neck should you remain in the one spot for over five minutes. The kind of heat that has you dripping sweat and longing for an ice-bath. Beach weather. Bikini weather, if that was your swimsuit preference.

I loved the sun. And it was no wonder Oriya had been shining. I could feel the heat seeping into the house already and it was barely eight o'clock!

I took a brief review of my clothes and finally came across something I must have packed in the event that I might have felt so suicidally inclined to flaunt my skin about. Thank God. It was a pair of faded ripped denim short shorts that I managed to shimmy into with a bit of concentrated effort and a short sleeved black crop top that came down to rest just upon the rise of my ribcage. Bless all those hours of swimming I regularly put in or else I would not have wanted to flaunt my stomach, not even in that weather. My tan was still hanging on by a thread and my long legs looked healthy and strong. My blond hair ran down the line of my spine and spilled over onto my chest. My shorts were tight and looked like one big promise. They rode perhaps just a little higher than my mother would have deemed appropriate for her daughter, let alone her bisexual son. I chose not to wear any of my thongs underneath, for fear it would be visible through the tight fabric of the shorts.

But I felt good. And for once, I felt that I _looked _good. I was really comfortable and it was great not to have the constriction of fabric about my neck. I couldn't wait to get downstairs and offer Oriya an eyeful.

Perhaps a handful if things went well.

I ran into Ichibana on the way down. He emerged from out of the bedrooms, dressed in what I'm sure was one of Oriya's kimonos. He held a finger over his lips, urging me towards silence as he slid the bedroom door shut behind him and gestured with his head for us to continue walking towards the sitting area.

"I hope you pay Oriya for whichever one of his girls you just shagged," I said, jamming my elbow into the side of the much shorter creature. He merely smirked at my jibe but failed to rebuke with a witty barb of his own, so I knew immediately that something was up. "Okay… what's the problem? Here I am, dressed like a Barbie, taking the piss out of you for sleeping around and you're not even going to remark on it? This is a cold day in Hell."

Ichibana drew his arm up around my shoulders, pulling my head down even against the side of his face. His smile was rapidly deteriorating from his features.

"I've got a _lot _ta tell ya, mate. A _lot. _You gonna put me back in yer glasses now, by the by?"

It was fourteen years since I had brought Ichibana under my charge and since then I felt that I had learnt a lot about his character and vice versa. I decided to trust him that morning. So I allowed him to remain outside of my bond, at least until after I had finished breakfast with Oriya. The last thing I needed was Ichibana taking the piss out of what I hoped to make a romantic affair.

The djinni nodded, running a hand back through his mussed hair, since loosed from his customary ponytail.

"Right. Cheers, mate. Ye go have yer OJ and snapper and then come find me and I'll clue ye in. But I gotta catch a bit of shuteye and I'm kind of looking forward to actually sleeping in a bed for once. I mean, the glasses are nice and all, don't get me wrong but… a pillow, now _there's _artistry in the expression."

I smiled understandingly, pointing down the hall back towards my assigned room.

"You can use my bed. Just get yourself cozy and I'll come fetch you in… how's an hour sound?"

The djinni pressed both hands together, fingers aligned and pointed towards the ceiling. "Like Heaven. There's a lot ta discuss boy and I'll give ya enough of my time ta talk it through wit ya but I pull night shifts now, so I gotta sleep today." He spread his arms wide. "'Ay, I'm pullin' forty winks fer two now."

"Pullin' forty winks for-" My entire body jerked as the revelation snapped through my mind. "Dear God… you're _pregnant?_"

He smiled, appearing slightly bashful. "Yeah. Number five on the way. Oriya was kind enough to confirm it for me when he poked his head in to check on me and Sonja." The djinni lowered his hand to pet his belly. "That's quite a power that boys got. I can't be more than a month due and he could tell me it was a girl."

"A daughter, huh? Well… congratulations." I know it didn't sound exactly sincere but I was still a little too shocked to force an alternative emotion. "That's… that's great news."

"Honey, I got great news fer you too. Ya got no idea." He seemed so over the moon happy and I was left to wonder why. I suppose any news that could have cheered him up so much was good news but I still felt a little edgy as we parted ways. He seemed happy for _me, _which was such a rare state of mind for a djinni that it bordered unusual. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until after breakfast. And after I put my little epiphany to the test.

The night before, it finally hit me, the meaning of those words that had been written across Seki's back. The words that had been thrown back in my face in that bizarre realm Tsuzuki and I had been thrown into.

_Where would you go? _

It _finally _made sense. The puzzle was beginning to come together. I couldn't wait to see whether I was right or not. If I _was _right, I would know. It would be terrifying, it would be impossible but I would know.

I would know the face of the one whom was responsible.

I bounced downstairs into the midst of a commotion. A number of the girls were up but none of them seemed particularly interested in eating. Miyamoto, Sonja and Mrs. Koneko were all fluttering out through the front entrance, gibbering amongst themselves. There was an air of friction about and not one of the women appeared happy about whatever had drawn their attentions to the front stoop. Dai came rushing past me and I fell into step behind her, eager to see what all the fuss was about.

"What's going on?" I asked, waving a hand in front of my face in an attempt to ward off the increasing heat. The girls were still donned in one layer sleeping kimonos, their bare legs breezing out through the halves with each step, slippered feet slapping the floor. They seemed well insulated from the heat, even with their hair out and trailing down their backs.

Dai turned her head towards me, her long butterscotch colored hair flying about her features. Her gentle expression threw me for a momentary loop and I felt my face flush slightly. My wife had had hair of the same color and length as Dai's. She'd even worn it in the same style; either loose down her back with a slight wave or twisted up behind her head in a complicated coil. Tamiko hadn't been as beautiful as Dai, though that was to be expected. Dai's career was based at least 50 per cent on her appearance. Tamiko had possessed a softer facial appearance, though her body had been just as lovely.

"Good morning, Mr. Watari. Daunting attire." She gave my bare stomach a little pat with the palm of her hand. I beamed down at her with genuine affection. I knew from speaking with Akemi that Dai had feelings for Oriya and had for some time. I figured that she would be resentful towards me for my developing relationship with the master but so far she had been exceptionally fair in her attitude towards us. "Akemi has just arrived with the children. It is a Saturday, so she is normally not required to be here until the later evening. Something must be the matter."

That was an understatement. When we stepped outside and out into the street, Akemi's car was parked on the corner, her three young children hunkered down in the backseat, their expressions distressed. Akemi was out of the car and standing a few feet from the door, face hidden in Oriya's chest. He had changed out of his training gear, into a decorative three piece kimono sporting a wisteria and cherry plum pattern, with simple blue obi, sanctioned tightly with a gold cord. He had his arms around Akemi and from the way her body was moving, it was easy to see that she was upset.

"Baby, what happened?" He tipped her chin up, bringing her face into the morning light. Even from where I was standing, the great black bruise swelling on her right eye was glaringly visible. "Your _danna... _Is he bein' ugly to you again?"

Akemi wiped at her eyes, wincing as she hit upon the bruise. She was a real mess. Her short blond hair, usually spiked up stylishly at the back, was a rumpled mess. She had no make up on and her clothing was distinctly understated, compared to how she normally dressed. Her jeans were wide leg and patched by age, her t-shirt simple, black and sporting some obscure English logo that didn't make much sense as far as I could tell. Instead of sensible shoes, she was wearing her house slippers. She had apparently left home in a rush.

I had never seen the little lady in such a state. She was usually the epitome of sophistication and so divinely beautiful, you would have thought her ethereal. Without her make up, kimono and hair spray, she seemed as regular as the girl next door.

"Hisao and I… we had a disagreement." She said, indicating to the bruise on her eye gingerly. This choice of words made her apparent 'disagreement' with the aforementioned Hisao seem lighter than it obviously was. I could see that Oriya was furious. His eyebrows were knitting in and his lips were tucked in upon themselves.

"I'll go see him."

Akemi grabbed his arm above the elbow, squeezing tightly to elicit his full attention. "You will do no such thing, Oriya Mibu! My problems are _my _business, do you understand? You just stay away from him, you understand?" And little Akemi, slender five foot ten frame to Oriya's substantial six foot four build, shook her finger, acrylic nail and all, in his face. Oriya was thoroughly chastised and took a step back, looking rather set upon. "And I certainly don't wish to hear about that shady pair paying him a visit either!"

"Shady pair?" I asked out loud. I immediately wished I had kept my mouth shut. It didn't seem like a private conversation but then again, a little diplomacy would have gone a long way to making the poor girl feel better.

Akemi looked over at me and didn't seem too surprised, nor offended that I and the other girls had been listening in.

"Oriya's has authority over these persons whom he summons when he has a matter that… requires special attention."

Oriya was waving his hands about and I could swear his narrowed eyes were focused in my direction. "Akemi, dear, we really don't need to spread the word far and wide."

She turned on him again, hands on hips. "All I'm saying is, that I'd better not hear that they've paid Hisao a little 'visit', understand? This is something I must deal with in my own good time. At my age, I certainly cannot afford to lose my _danna_, so it is necessary that I not put a foot wrong. Is that clear?"

Oriya smiled understandingly and put his arms around her. She embraced back and the harsh anger on her face melted away.

"Of course." He said, rubbing her back in a nurturing way. "You needn't worry about those two. They're out of town at the moment, so there'll be no calling on them anytime soon. But Akemi," He stepped out of her embrace but kept a hold of her shoulders between his hands. "He shouldn't get away with doing this to you. This is the second time now… Privileged client or not, I cannot tolerate any man who would underhand my authority in this manner. If I allow him to pervade the rules I have established, then it is only natural that fellow patrons might feel inclined to exercise such liberties against the other geisha. You are the Onesan of the Kokakuro, Akemi. It is your duty, as my successor, to provide the residing girls with your fine example. You must be responsible in dealing with this act, or they will know no better. "

She nodded, giving his hand a gentle pat. "I understand, Onisan. I explained to him last time that if it were to ever happen again, I would walk out the door and take the children right on with me. The last time it was dismissable. He at least did not strike me vehemenently and the children were not witness to it." She sniffed and brought her finger up beneath her eye, catching a tear early, before it fell and openly exposed her internal distress. "He suspected I'd entertained a liason with a fellow politician and that it was by your dictatorship that I had been led astray. He questioned my loyalty and we argued... he did not tolerate my forthright liberties. ...Beau, I am terrible sorry to imposition you like this but I do require a place to stay for some time, at least until Hisao cools off. Myself and the children. Of course I am willing to cover my expenses, for room and board."

"Now, you know there's no need for that. You were living here long before I was! Kokakuro is as much your home as it is mine. I won't be having you pay me money for rent. You and the kids are welcome to stay, long as you need." He wiped a tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye. "_Pay me rent_, honestly woman. You'd think I needed the money!"

"You should not show me such kindness. It only weakens my will!" Akemi's deeply accented voice was drenched in underlying tears and she had to take a moment in order to straighten herself up. When she did, she looked Oriya square in the eye and fortified her body, appearing strong and resolute. "Beau, I know that I am asking you a great deal but I was wondering if you would be so awfully kind as to watch over the children for a couple of hours today? I have to take myself on over to my Papa's house in the next town over, pick up some clothes for myself and the children. I left the house in such an awful rush… you understand?"

Oriya nodded, gesturing towards the car for the kids to climb on out. "It's no problem. The kids are always a joy, you know that."

"I can take them on through to the kitchen if you like." I piped up, trying to be helpful. Truth is, I loved kids and I was exceptionally fond of Akemi's little brood. There were three of them; the two girls Kikumi and Yoko were aged seven and eight respectively, whilst the boy, Makoto, held seniority in the group at the plucky age of nine.

I was in love with these kids. And they seemed to love me. They attached themselves to me like monkeys to the last tree in the jungle and squalled my name over and over with zestful enthusiasm.

As I ducked down to give each kid a kiss on the cheek, Oriya smiled at me approvingly and I got the feeling that I'd just been marked up by my display of affection towards the children. Akemi too appeared to be quite chuffed.

"Is that all right with you?" Oriya asked, glancing down at her. Akemi smiled, dabbing her hand towards me congenially.

"Of course, dear. You go on right through there. And children?" They all scampered back over to listen to their mama, heads craned back like anticipatory puppies awaiting a command. "You all behave yourselves for Uncle Oriya's friend, do you hear? Mama will be back tonight at the latest, so don't be making a nuisance of yourself in the meantime."

"We won't, Mama." Kikumi and Yoko chorused, scuffing the toes of their shoes along the hot concrete. Makoto placed his hands on his hips and spaced his feet apart.

"I'll keep an eye on 'em, Mama." He assured, trying to sound too old for any young boy to wish himself to be. "You can trust me!"

Akemi petted his cheek, her eyes shining with genuine affection for her son. "I know I can, baby. Now, you all give your Mama a kiss. I'm going to be missing you on the road." They all scuttled in close to place their lips against their mothers' cheeks and she squeezed them all to her bosom in turn. The parting process seemed sadder than the situation called for and my heart ached in sympathy because I could understand just what Miss Aisubi was going through.

"Take 'em on through and get them something to eat, would you Yutaka?" Oriya continued to smile at me as he helped Akemi climb back to her feet. The kids immediately raced back to my side, staring up at me like ducklings that had just imprinted me as their mother figure. Well, _quack. _"Just get them to tell Yoshi what they'd like for breakfast. I'll be in, in a moment. I just have to discuss a few things with Akemi."

I flashed them both an assuring wink and then huddled down close to the children, as though we were sharing a conspiracy.

"Betcha can't beat me to the kitchen!" I challenged, looking each one of them square in the eye. Makoto immediately puffed out his chest.

"I can too! I'm one of the fastest runners in my class at school!"

"Yeah! I can run pretty fast too!" Yoko chimed in, squeezing her little fists tightly in order to demonstrate her enthusiasm. I climbed back to my feet and turned to face the kitchen, grinning over my shoulder at them.

"Well then… you'd just better go and prove it then!"

I took off running (well, a slow jog really) but making a dramatic job of it, so that the children felt that they had won a true victory. Not that I needed to take it easy on them, mind. Those kids were fast and energetic, I probably couldn't have kept up anyway.

We made out way into the kitchen and surprised Yoshi, who doted on the kids almost as badly as I did. They put in their orders for breakfast (some having to be changed on account of the original choices being positively ridiculous, Chargrilled hippapotamus on a stick dipped in sticky sweet and sour sauce for example.) and then we seated ourselves down in the group dining area to wait for the food to cook. The kids didn't talk about whatever had happened between their Mom and her _danna _Hisao but chatted at length about school and their friends and their achievements to date. It didn't take long before Yoko and Kikumi grew bored with that and wanted to play with my hair. Makoto was heavily involved in telling me of the swimming competition coming up (and how he was going to win that too) but he stopped to watch the girls braid portions of my hair for a while.

"Mr. Watari… you look kinda like that girl from that foreign car movie." He concluded after we had sat for some time. I grinned, watching as he twirled his finger about in the air, trying to come up with the name. "Em… Ah! Daisy Duke! That's who you look like today! Why are you dressed like that, anyhow? Don't girls normally dress that way?"

I shrugged, not quite sure how to best phrase this. I still thought the boy was a little young to be wised up to the sexual orientation scheme (and even if he was old enough, it wasn't my place to fill him in) so explaining to him that I was a predominately queer bisexual and I was entirely inclined to wear whatever feminine attire I wanted, just wasn't in the cards.

"Well it… it's awful hot today." I finally said, with a silly grin. And apparently needn't have concerned myself with this show of decency on the kids behalf because it seemed that Akemi had already given them the low down. Kikumi proved this by leaning around from the back of my head, where she was annihilating all my hard straightening work by winding portions of my hair into braids.

"Mama said you're Oriya's 'special' friend. That means you're going out with him, right?"

I blanched, shocked at how much kids these days knew. Back in the good old days, I didn't know I could shag a man until I was at least… well, I knew about it when I was a child yes but that's only because I was forced into doing it. I sort of expected that other kids didn't have a clue in hell!

Yoko shook her head, seeing my expression of shock. "Naw, it's okay! We know about that sort of thing. We may be kids, but we're not dumb you know?" She said diplomatically. "Mama's just glad that Oriya's found someone nice. His last girlfriend was a bit of a…"

"Cow." Makoto established, less diplomatically. He reached out and dragged my glasses off of my face, trying them on and then blinking at me owlishly through the lenses. "She wasn't nice to us at all. Uncle Oriya said she used to get jealous of him spending time with anyone other than her."

"You're a _lot _nicer than she was." Yoko said, nodding as though she had just resolved some internal conundrum. She combed through my hair with her fingers. "And you're sort of like a girl, so it's really fine that you're dating Uncle Oriya!"

"Well, that's good to hear." I said, biting back a smile as I took my glasses back off of Makoto. "I was hoping I would get your blessing."

"Is he good back to you?" Yoko asked, releasing her hold on my hair and then sitting down in front of me, legs crossed like an attentive student. "Does he do nice things for you?"

"He's very nice to me." I established, wondering just what constituted a 'nice thing'. We weren't exactly 'boyfriends' and we hadn't even gone on a single date. The preponderance of our romance was based in the spare time between my work on the case.

This wasn't good enough to Yoko and she looked frustrated. "That's not what I meant! Hasn't he bought you something yet? He has all that money! He should be _your danna _he's so rich!"

"Yeah! He better do something to make you stick around, 'cause _we_ like you." Makoto said, nodding his head up and down in an exaggerated fashion. Apparently their liking me was all that mattered. Never mind should Oriya lose interest.

"I look forward to running that by him." I said, already imagining the look on Oriya's face when I told him to be my _danna _and start forking up for me, whilst I strutted about all day in an authentic kimono and drank gallons of sake. Priceless. "Say, maybe you kids can help me out with something too?"

They all leaned towards me, physically expressing that they were eager to assist me in any way possible.

"I'd like to know more about your Uncle Oriya and since you mentioned doing something nice, I don't suppose any of you know when his birthday is, do you?"

The kids exchanged doubtful looks; apparently trying to decide whether or not I could be entrusted with this intimate knowledge of Oriya. There was a little team huddle and Makoto was eventually elected spokesperson of the group.

"His birthday is July the 7th. It's always pretty hot around his birthday."

I noted this down internally,. "We're just coming out of June now... So I've got a little bit of time to think about what I'm going to be getting him."

"He likes the theatre." Makoto suggested helpfully. "Get him a ticket to one of those ultra boring Noh shows he's always nicking off to.

"He'll be thirty-three this year." Yoko contributed, wrinkling her nose a little. "That's like… a hundred."

I blinked at her incredulously, trying not to take any personal offense at her words. Kids thought that anyone over the age of twenty-five was a dinosaur. See? I could take these things in my stride, unlike _some _certain people who freak out when anyone suggests that they're two minutes to retirement.

"He's most certainly _not _a hundred." I established defensively, giving the cheeky little girl a poke in the stomach. "Your Mom is older than he is, you know?"

Yoko giggled, ducking away from my finger and hiding behind Kikumi. "Yeah and she's old too! She's _super _old!"

Makoto nodded sagely. "Everyone _knows _that when you get to thirty everything starts to get droopy!"

"Is that so?" Oriya stepped out from the kitchen, crossing his arms and smiling down at the children who squealed with fear at being caught out. "Well I'd best keep up with my exercises then, hadn't I?" He strolled over to join us, flashing a toothy smile as he drew his arms around Makoto's middle and hefted him up over his shoulder. The boy laughed and thrashed his legs, trying to squirm free as Oriya pretended to bench press him. "Yutaka? We have these squirts until one o'clock. Have they all spoken to Yoshi?"

I nodded cheerfully, watching Oriya set the kids to rights, lathering them with equal attention before settling uncomfortably down at the head of the table, crossing his legs so that Yoko could perch in his lap. Kikumi crawled back round to fuss with my hair again and Makoto took one side of table to himself. There was a silence and Oriya seemed quite content with the five of us just sitting there, listening to the noises of morning and simply enjoying the company of each other. But the kids soon grew bored by it as kids normally do.

"Uncle Oriya… aren't you gonna tell Mr. Watari how pretty he looks today?" Kikumi demanded, shaking one of the braids in my hair at him. Oriya looked sideways at me and I shrugged sort of helplessly in return.

"Yeah!" Yoto interjected, craning her head back so she could stare up into Oriya's face. He had to press his chin down towards his chest in order to make eye contact with her. "Mr. Watari is your special friend and _he _says you haven't even bought him anything nice yet! Even though you got all that money and your his _danna_!"

"His not my _danna._" I interjected, whipping my arms about frantically in Oriya's direction. "You're not my danna."

"Oh does he?" Oriya said thoughtfully, ignoring my remarks as he jostled Yoto around on his lap. "Well, I shall certainly have to do something about that then, shan't I?" He petted the little girl on the head and then smiled over at me sweetly. "Yutaka, you look very pretty today. Could I surprise you with a gift, since I have all that useless money cluttering up my bank account?"

"Uh, that's really not necessary." I said, waving my hands about and feeling my face flush hot. Kids could be so blunt! "You don't have to get me anything."

"Yes he does!" Yoko insisted, nodding her head vigorously. "You're special to him, so he should get you something nice!"

"Well, I haven't got him anything either…" I offered weakly, glancing at Oriya apologetically. He seemed to be taking this wayward offensive in good humor but I was worried that I was coming off as ungrateful.

"Nah, nah, nah! That's okay though!" Makoto joined the attack front, waving his hand at me dismissively. "_You're _the girly one and the girly one doesn't have to go buying things!"

"Makoto, don't refer to Mr. Watari that way. It isn't nice." Oriya gently scolded. The little boy clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked by his apparent slip and shrank down into himself, looking quite chastised. Kikumi took up the slack.

"Mr. Watari! Tell Uncle Oriya what you'd like! Then he'll get it for you!"

"Ooh! Ooh! Like flowers!" Yoko sighed, clapping her small, delicate hands together. "Flowers are so romantic!"

"What's your favorite flower, Yutaka?" Oriya joined in. He rather seemed to be enjoying this. I was still verging on mortified.

"Eh… sunflowers but I don't really have any use for flowers!"

Yoko looked annoyed. "Well, just tell him something he can get you!" She insisted impatiently. "Something you would like!"

Oh, there were a great many things I would have liked Oriya to give me but none that I felt comfortable discussing in front of the children. I sighed deeply and looked helplessly into Oriya's eyes, silently pleading assistance of some kind. He smiled sweetly at me and bobbed his head in a deep bow. I suppose this was his way of giving me permission.

"Well…" I said, musing on this. "I do like Italian food a lot… I would like it a lot if Oriya took me out to somewhere where we could eat it together."

"Like on a date? Just the two of you?" Kikumi inquired romantically. I nodded, setting my cheek down against the curl of my fist and staring into Oriya's face with fondness.

"Yeah. Just the two of us."

Oriya smiled back and lowered his head to conceal his shyness, biting his lower lip tenderly before bringing his eyes back up into their normal alignment. "Well, there you go. There's a number of fine Italian bistro's in Kyoto. I shall choose a suitable venue and make a reservation for tonight, once Akemi's gotten back and taken these brats off of my hands." He blew a raspberry into Yoko's ear, causing her to squeal and giggle happily. I did the same. (Except without the squeal. Or the raspberry, naturally). Just think! My first real date with Oriya! A date that would involve dressing up and actually _leaving _Kokakuro and being in public together! I was all a flutter and could barely muster up an accompanying 'thankyou' to express my gratitude. These kids may have been frank, but they were doing a load for my love-life!

Breakfast shortly followed and for a little over a half hour we ate and we talked, thankfully moving on from the 'Oriya-doesn't-pamper-Watari-enough' topic and discussing nice normal things. The girls made their tepid way in and out, taking a moment to eat with us, dote on the children and then head on out to their daily lessons, playing the _shamisen, _dancing, pouring sake, whatever it was these 'somewhat-geisha's' got up to in their spare time. When the kids' stomachs were full, they wanted to explore the yard a little and then the girls remembered their favorite show was on, so Oriya set them up in one of the two rooms that actually had a television. Since Kokakuro was either the first or second oldest shop in Kyoto, there wasn't a great deal of modernization within its' walls. Nothing much had changed since the time of its original conception, apart from the installation of electricity and indoor plumbing, of course. Oriya, the old fashioned fogey that he was, didn't much go in for television and modern culture anway. There were only one or two shows that he deigned to watch and even then, it was not on a dedicated basis. One other room had a gaming console set up and Makoto contented himself with that. I gathered such devices were in place for the entertainment of the children and even the girls, moreso then for the convenience of the master.

With the kids occupied, I thought now was as good a time as any to put my theory to the test. Oriya however, had other ideas.

We were standing in the entrance hall, having just left Makoto to his own devices in one of the many spare rooms, when I found myself swept to the side and held securely in place by the arms as Oriya looked me slowly up and down. I smiled softly and pulled myself free just long enough to turn on the spot, affording him a complete view of my ensemble. Oriya was wetting his lips as I completed my rotation.

"Do that again." He commanded, making a familiar twirling motion in midair. I raised a brow as I repeated my revolution, stifling a throaty gasp as I felt Oriya's long hand slide up the right leg of my shorts. They were so tight all he could do was move his fingers about and he clenched the curve of muscle before withdrawing his hand and using it to spin me into his waiting arms. His eyes were bright and hot and I took that to be quite the compliment.

"You look… mouthwatering." He said, his voice hoarse. My bottom lip quivered as his strong hands made circles in my lower back and suctioned my groin in tightly against his own. "The kids will be busy for a while… let's go upstairs and get into bed."

A shiver ran through my body as his hands gripped my backside and his mouth met mind with such passion I thought he was trying to suck my tongue down his throat. I tried to stay detached from the sensation but wasn't entirely successful in my attempt. It was difficult to remain impassive to the attentions of a man as beautiful as Oriya. But I made a concerted effort not to grin like an idiot and keep my mind on the job.

"Oriya, I need you to unlock the doors." I said, closing my eyes as he brought his arms around my middle and ducked his head in order to kiss my cheeks. My words immediately killed his affectionate mood. His eyes were sad when they met mine, his lips slicking free from the side of my face. I was relieved. I was disappointed.

"That reminds me… last night when you were talking to that Tsuzuki fellow…" He stepped back, arms crossing over his broad chest. "Has something happened that I should know about?"

I assumed a similar pose whilst I ran through the uncertain specifics of the previous nights activities, omitting nothing but the more extensive details of my conversations with Tsuzuki. Oriya listened without saying anything and when I finished talking, he remained in his silence for a long time thereafter. He thought on my words, on the details and expressed not the hint of emotion. I watched him carefully, wondering what was going through his head. Oriya was a man of absolute necessities. He never spoke a word unless it was important and I knew that I had given him a lot of information to process and just like me, he was still trying to sort through it.

"So, we're to assume that this Mitkiel guy is the culprit?"

"Uh-uh babes. That ain't the case at all."

Ichibana had decided to join us at last. I looked up the stairwell as he descended to the ground floor, Gushoushin floating down behind him and 003 perched on one shoulder. Ichibana was dressed in a casual (casual at least for him) pair of tight black pants, boots and off the shoulder tee. His wavy shoulder length plum colored hair was left out for a change and swished about his neck with the hastened movements of his body. I nodded in his direction as he made his way over to us.

"That's what I think." I agreed, patting the djinni on the back as he slung his arm around my waist and cupped my butt unnecessarily. "Everything that Tsuzuki and I went through last night seemed entirely orchestrated to point the blame towards the demon Mitkiel. But then I got to thinking, why on earth would a demon make his involvement so obvious? Demons aren't like that. By nature. They prefer to conduct their business in as covert a manner as possible and even the proudest demons will try to hide their name for as long as possible. They certainly never _offer _it and this Mitkiel seemed all too eager to offer up his non de plume on a platter."

"If say, a Guardian of Death," Gushoushin contributed, gesturing towards me with an open hand. " –learns a demons name, they can come at the demon from a position of power. Knowing the title of a demon, devil or djinni gives the opponent of said creature a keen advantage."

"Exactly. So a demon won't ever say their name! Not unless they know for certain that their opponent is already aware of their identity and Mitkiel could not have known that for sure." I stroked my chin with my finger, forcing my mind back over the nights' events. "What I think we're looking at here is a force that is attempting to discredit the true Mitkiel. For whatever reason."

Oriya gestured towards me urgently. "You mean, like an act of betrayal? Or treason?"

"Depending on whether the guilty party was previously associated with the true Mitkiel then yes, that's definitely a possibility."

"But what does this have to do with the murders here?" He asked, appearing to be exceptionally confused by what it was we were discussing. I wasn't sure how to answer this either.

"I don't have all the pieces of the puzzle yet, Oriya." I stepped out of Ichibana's hold and pressed my hands against the brunette's chest, looking directly into his eyes. "But I think I have a good idea about what is going on here. The poem scrawled upon that wall before the Room of Corollary… the more I think about it… the more I think I can make the connection."

"Well for Gods sake man, tell me already." Oriya clenched my upper arms between his hands, urging me to share my revelations. I thought back with all the strength of my memory, trying to recall the words to be best of my ability.

"The poem addressed me personally and then there were the words… the same words that were on Seki's back, _Where would you go'?"_ I cleared my throat and recited the poem word for word. "_Where would you go,_ where would you go, what is the answer you wanted to know? 'Where would you go'; what does it mean? Why would the master, destroy his own Queens?"

"The master? Queens?" Oriya lowered his head for a moment and then sighed with a deep frustration as the not so blatant answer dawned on him. "It's a reference to me, right? _I'm _the master… the girls are my Queens."

I nodded sadly. "Yeah... I think whoever killed the girls may have assumed your form to do it. The bartender at _Ra's Sunline _saw you, or rather somehow who bore your appearance, leave with the girls the night before they were murdered. Obviously so that you would bear the blame, should the case come under scrutiny from the human authorities."

"That seems to be the general gist of it, yes." Ichibana said wisely, choosing now to wrap his arms around Oriya's back and snuggle him from behind. We both ignored it; this was normal Ichibana behavior and I wasn't jealous enough to feel threatened by it. "How's the rest of it go, Bubble brain?"

I continued. "So, think about this, now you should understand, Where did you go, when you were touched by that man?"

Ichibana arched a delicate eyebrow. "That man?"

Oriya hefted an angry snort, like a bull about to charge. "If it's addressed to you, there's only one person it can mean."

So, we were on the same wavelength. I worked through the rest of the riddle, trying not to consider the implications of the words too deeply. "Where did you go? When you had been plundered? To the depths of the earth, where the dead are interred? Solve my riddle, to stay my hand, the answer is simple, the story is sad, where did you go, once the man had his way? There's only one place, where sin's washed away."

Oriya tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. "So the words on Seki's back… were intended for _you _all along."

Ichibana was grinning and I thought it entirely inappropriate in relation to the context of our discussion. And then he spoke and I almost fainted from the relief and the guilt that came at his words.

"It wasn't Seki's back, Blondie."

I stared at his grinning face, my brain freezing over in confusion. "What?"

"What are you talking about?" Oriya asked, his voice potentially dangerous. Ichibana's smile just got bigger and bigger and he tightened his arms about the brunette's middle with considerable glee.

"I got a visit last night. From Kira Tsukiori."

"The demon exorcist? How is the old girl?" I didn't know Kira well. In fact, we had met only once and quite recently at that. She had brought her daughter into the Summons Section one night, when I was working late in the lab. Knowing that I had been trained in the Treatment of Physical, Spiritual, Magical and any specified Supernatural or Natural ailments, injuries and maladies, Kira had brought her young son to me in a panic, concerned by his color and the strange noises he had been making since she'd fed him. Brilliant doctor that I am, I immediately diagnosed the problem and set to work with the remedy, propping the infant up against my shoulder and patting his back until he burped.

It was her first child, so I couldn't blame her for reacting the way she did. And she had been embarrassed but when she saw I wasn't laughing at her, she thanked me with genuine appreciation. That was my first and only meeting with Kira the demon exorcist and all that I knew about her (aside from being the only undead parent to my knowledge) was that she was one of Enma's elite agents. I'm sure that this did not bode well, if she had turned up in Kyoto.

Ichibana explained to me almost everything that he had learnt from Kira during their meeting the previous night. He omitted one or two things for the benefit of Oriya and spoke only of the case specifics, confirming my speculations.

And tearing my heart wide open.

"Seki's alive…?" I asked hesitantly, once he had finished speaking. I almost didn't want to get my hopes up, in case this was some cruel joke. But Ichibana just smiled at me and let go of Oriya in order to take my hands.

"Kira checked it all out. This Popo Bawa used its' illusionary powers to throw a sort of blanket over the true Seki." The djinni made a motion in the air, demonstrating visually how someone might throw a blanket over an object. "That way, he could conceal her at the hospital whilst she was in a purposefully induced comatose state. But Kira investigated yesterday and it seems that 'Kiekemi' was checked out by her 'father'."

"Bullshit." Oriya established, hands on his hips. "Kiekemi's only living relative was a cousin and Seki's father is also deceased. Someone else took her out of the hospital."

"The Popo Bawa." Ichibana confirmed. Oriya glanced at him and then returned his eyes to me, silently inquiring.

"A Popo Bawa is a demon most usually associated with the Swahili culture, purported to live on the spice Island of Zanzibar." I explained, trying not to sound like the big demonology nerd I was. Ichibana raised a hand, piercing through the center of my elucidation.

"It's um… actually more a monster that has _evolved _from a djinni. A djinni summoned by a sheik, who wished to use the noble creature to enact vengeance against his neighbors, who had slighted him in some manner. But he lost control of the djinni, which evolved and took to demonic ways. It's sort of a superior demonic djinni, like what you might get if Saagatanus and I sprouted a love child." He caressed his hands back through his hair and rolled his eyes. "Though you try telling that to the demons and they'll insist there's _no _connection. Hell, they won't even acknowledge that they evolved from us. Demon pride, I tell ya…"

I ignored this waffle and plundered on through my definition. "The Popo Bawa is a hybrid of the Incubus, only its' preference in sexual prey is not predominately women." The penny dropped and I was stunned silent for a moment as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place and the answer lay bare in front of me. "Jesus H. Christ… _Oooh!_" I made a profound noise of aggravation and slapped my forehead with my hand. "Why didn't I see this sooner?!"

"See what?" Oriya asked impatiently, his gaze darting between Ichibana and I, enquiring an answer from whoever might have provided it first. "What is it?"

Ichibana cinched his arms tightly about his chest in an intensely smug manner but didn't answer him. I was apparently permitted this honor and I got the feeling that the djinni was eager to see how much of this I could figure out on my own. I brought my hand down from my face, feeling my forehead ache from the slap I had bestowed upon it but barely registering it. It was irrelevant. At long last, everything was starting to make wonderful, beautiful sense! The obviousness of it all made me want to laugh.

"The Popo Bawa…" I clenched my fists against my face, still unable to fathom the extremity of my relief and accomplishment. "It originally attacked men and preferred for them to be standing up whilst it sodomized them! Usually men that who were pre-pubescent because it preferred the tightness of children and virgins. But as it continued to evolve, so too did its' desires. It began to hunger for women but _only _women that possessed extreme sexual experience. So that it could demonstrate its' sexual supremacy over all the men that these women had bedded." I punched my fist into my open palm, feeling my smile spread wide in excitement. At long last, the threads were unraveling! I was going to beat this damn bastard! "The Popo Bawa hunts pre-pubescent boys _and _women who are sex workers by profession! That's why it has appeared here at the Kokakuro! It was drawn here because of Oriya's girls… the geisha's! And because it's a relatively new demonic strain its' primary concern is to expand its' reputation as far as possible."

"How?" Gushoushin questioned dramatically. I think they were all getting caught up in my excitement.

I started to pace, throwing out the words as soon as they formed in my mind. "When a Popo Bawa claims a victim, he will rape them for up to an hour at a time. The boys of course will be sodomized but the women will not, that's why none of the girls here were anally raped. And when the Popo Bawa takes them he threatens the victim with sustained molestation if they do not serve as messenger for him."

"A messenger?" Oriya asked as he, Gushoushin and Ichibana leaned towards me in a curved row, acting as the perfect sounding board in this scene. Ichibana was of course on the same level as me but he pretended to be as oblivious as the other two, just so I could have my moment in the spotlight.

Nice of him, eh?

"The victim must spread the message of the Popo Bawa's existence." I stopped pacing and faced my faithful audience, rubbing at my brow to keep the blood flow readily stimulated. My brain was working so hard, I wouldn't have been surprised to feel it short out at any moment. "But word of mouth isn't good enough, it's _never _good enough for anything as powerful as a demon. No, it has to be some sort of physical evidence and something that will further provide the demon with power, so that it can increase its' empire. So it can grow stronger…"

"Go on." Gushoushin prompted.

"If the Popo Bawa's existence is denied, it is apparently enraged and will work harder to promote itself. The only known Popo Bawa in existence was last heard of in…" I thought back to the records I'd perused those many times over. I hadn't paid particular attention to this specific demonic entity and now I was sore that I had been so remiss, in light of my current situation. "-1995 I think…"

"That's fairly recent." Oriya said, raising his eyebrow into a near perfect question mark. I nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes! Yes it is! But more importantly and this is relevant mind you, in 1942 the Popo Bawa became enraged when its' existence was denied and it possessed a girl in the village of Zanizibar. Its' voice is _very _distinctive; they say it has a deep male baratone and that it spoke to the villagers. It warned that it would bring about a superior memoir; a stain upon its' victims that could never be forgotten and never be removed. It would bestow a madness, an induction of violence and rage that would rend its' victims apart."

"Whoo… scary." Ichibana crooned, nuzzling up against Oriya and gripping his bicep like a 15th century wench. "Any idea what kind of mark that might be, Blondie? Kira didn't get _this _far…"

"Well keep up with me, cause I ain't finished yet!" I resumed my pacing, this time in a wide circle, talking mostly to myself and paying little mind to my three spectators (not including 003) who started to follow along behind me, forming a bizarre conga line of the curious. "I kept thinking to myself, 'What was the significance of the sigil?' Clearly, it is the mark of Mitkiel but there were so many errors contained therin the sigil that it seems obvious that it was intended to slur the name of the demon Mitkiel rather than correctly replicate his mark."

"Slur or promote?" Ichibana prompted. He seemed sincerely interested in my opinion.

"Oh a slur. Definitely a slur, I believe." I spun about, causing all three of my rag tag conga team to quickly halt to keep from running into me. Gushoushin's flying brake caused him to wrap about Oriya's head like an overdone pancake. "What better way to establish yourself in the demonic heirarchy than to assume the position of one of the most powerful otherworld figures to date? Mitkiel is one of the Order of the Nine Hours, a demonic-god, if the records speak true. And if a demon has designs on any position, it is not passed down according to rank or to the next of kin. To assume that position, all one demon is required to do-"

"Is destroy the demon in that position." Gushoushin concluded, his beady eyes widening with sudden realization. "But if Mitkiel is in the Order of the Nine Hours and a demon-God, he would be too powerful for an ordinary entity like a Popo Bawa to destroy. His only choice would be to enlist other powerful entities to aid him."

"They would have to be an entity stronger than the target, though not a demon because a demon could assume the position for themselves." Ichibana poked his head around Oriya's shoulder and stuck his finger in the air, replicating me to a par. "So, the only choice this Popo Bawa seems to have is to enlist Guardians of Death in his scheme. Though the Guardians would have to be oblivious to the Popo Bawa's true intentions, otherwise they wouldn't willingly assist it."

Oriya nodded, catching on. "So, what this Popo Bawa needs is to make you guys think that Mitkiel is committing these murders. So that you chase after him… and kill him… and then… assume Mitkiel's title as… what?"

"Demon-God of punishment." Ichibana concluded. "But the Popo Bawa would first have to kill the Guardians' of Death, so that _they _wouldn't possess the title." He pointed a finger at me coyly. "But you're onto him. Aren't you, ya sneakly little hopping corpse?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Right. So, instead of going after Mitkiel, we have to go after this Popo Bawa."

"That still leaves a lot unanswered though." Oriya lifted my chin and forced me to meet his eyes. "The poem that you found in the Otherplace… you still haven't explained what that means… and even what this Otherplace is!"

"I'm not entirely sure myself." I stared back into his beautiful dark eyes, wishing I had all the answers he required. Wishing I could end this thing once and for all, so that we could be together without any further hindrances. "But the Popo Bawa is a mimic by nature and that isn't secluded to shape shifting alone. It can change its form, it can hide the true form of others and it can alter its environment. From what I can see, this Popo Bawa wants to _be _the demon of punishment so badly, that it is already assuming the role and mimicking the true Mitkiel. It has created this Otherplace from the minds of those that it chooses to toy with, in the case of last night, mine and Tsuzuki's. It probably wants to toy with us, make us so enraged and frightened that we dash on out right away to kick the real Mitkiel's butt."

"And the poem?"

"Gives us a clue as to the host the Popo Bawa has chosen." I stated, wrapping my arms around my middle and squeezing myself with mounting insecurity. I didn't want to think about the possible, cruelly coincidental reality. "Where would you go? And 'when you were touched by that man?' It refers to Oriya and the girls… and it refers to me, suggesting that whoever was responsible for initially marking me, is responsible for taking the lives of these girls."

"Marking you?" Oriya folded his arms and stared at me with some increduality. "What do you mean 'marking you'?"

"What I mean is, that I have already met the Popo Bawa." I held out my arm, gazing down at the slightly tanned skin where only the night before I had felt those haphazard curse lines of Muraki burn deep into my bone and muscle. "I don't know how but I know he has touched me because the mark of the Popo Bawa is the _Shukusatsu_. It is the mark that Muraki wears. And that I wear also."

"Muraki bears those same markings?" This was apparently news to Oriya and I'm not afraid to admit that I was surprised.

"You didn't know? Well… I can't say I know any of this for sure myself but…" I patted the palm of my hand against my chest. "This is a mark that must spread and make itself known… it either draws its victims towards acts of violence and degradation… or it sends them mad or it seduces them into death. Oriya, I think that your girls... maybe even only one of them, was driven into a violent rage and may have perpetuated the deaths by the influence of the _Shukusatsu. _The Popo Bawa would not have killed them because that is a dead end. His mark will not be spread and for his reputation to meet no end, that is the last thing that it wants." I slapped my chest with the palm of my hand. "I have not been affected as a Guardian because I am already dead and whatever madness I endured ended when my life did." Oriya took my hand and squeezed it comfortingly. I smiled up at him, grateful for his concern. "The Popo Bawa must have changed himself into people that both Muraki and I trusted… all so that it could mark us. He is the cause of so much suffering. To think if he is responsible for Muraki… _being _what he is…"

Oriya was quiet for some time and when he did speak his voice was sallow with suppressed emotions. "I'd gotten used to the idea of Muraki being entirely responsible for each and every one of his actions… I thought I was beyond feeling any hope that his soul might be salvaged… but if the blame is not entirely with him." He looked up into my face, his expression renewed with fierce determination. "If we stop this… Popo Bawa, then we avenge my girls… and perhaps then Muraki…"

"May return to the way he was." To be honest, I didn't hold a great deal of hope in this but I didn't want to squelch Oriya's growing enthusiasm. "And if he is indeed holding Seki hostage… we can save her too."

"Grrr, this is getting out of hand! I'm so confused and I don't just mean sexually!" Ichibana complained, strutting about in a circle of aggravation, eyebrows furrowed and arms jamming up and down his sides like a child in a temper. "How the Heck does a group consisting of a hormonal blond nerd, a talking chicken with library priviledges, the pin up boy for Bonds briefs, a stumpy mechanical owl and a dashing, though admittedly self-interested pregnant djinni supposed to do against a maniacal sex obsessed critter from the wrong side of the tracks?"

Oriya, his jaw set firm, groaned with disapproval as he swatted Ichibana on the back of the head. "And you can cut out that attitude right now mister, or we'll never get this show on the road. Keep a positive frame of mind. All we have to do is take out this Popo Bawa thing, right? Should be simple."

Ichibana rolled his eyes back, linking his hands together behind his head. "Well all right… dinner and a movie but I ain't kissin' him. I _never _put out on the first date."

"You do _so_ and that's not what Oriya meant by taking him out." I exclaimed, punching him lightly in the side. "And on that note, those of us that'll be taking him out will be, I assume, myself and any other Guardian of Death I can get to sign up for this lunatic assignment. But not pregnant djinni and… birdies… or pin up boys! They all have to stay home!"

"WHAT?!" They all screeched at me in unison. My glasses nearly blew off.

"Why should I have to sit back and let you do all the work when this creature has insulted me most of anyone?" Oriya snapped, getting all up in my face. "You're forgetting who I am! I'm no ordinary run of the mill human, you know!" He leaned back from me, eyes shining with an aggressive light and his chest swelling from a deep inhalation. "If what you said is true, this Popo Bawa is only going to get stronger once he claims the title of… of… whatever it is he wants to claim the title of."

"Demon-God of Punishment." Gushoushin quickly reminded him.

"Right, that one! And if that's true, then there's no time to waste! Look at the devestation he has already caused and times that by a hundred! We've gotta nip this thing in the bud before it gets _completely _out of control!" He clenched his fist and raised it, aiming a faux punch at my chin, stopping it just short of connecting. I felt the ridges of his knuckles rest against my skin, not so much as quivering from the effort of withholding the blow. I reeled back slightly before I realized that with his level of control, there was no way he ever would have slipped and brought his fist against my face. "Call your Guardians if you want but you're not leaving me sitting at home, minding the fire. I'm there with you, all the way! Dammit we started this thing together, I intend to see it through to the end."

"Oriya…" I breathed, feeling as though my eyeballs were about to pop from my skull and richochet off the lenses of my glasses. "The way you said all that just now… I've never seen you so feisty and fired up. It's kind of sexy…"

Oriya dropped his fist back down to his side and smirked at me with adrenaline fueled innuendo. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

"Focus people…" The Gushoushin's voice was just strained enough to pull Oriya back from the edge in the nick of time. He shook his head as though to clear it and then turned back to me, curling both hands around my arms and locking his eyes on mine.

"One other thing… last night when I was washing you, you mentioned something about the bathroom in the rooms where the murders occurred…and just before Ichibana joined us you said you wanted me to open the doors… What's up?"

I lowered my eyes a little, curving my eyebrows in as I set my already thoroughly abused brain back to work. "That line of the poem and the words on Seki's… I mean… _Kiekemi's _back; 'There's only one place where sin's washed away.' It struck a cord in me. I thought to myself, where is the first place a rape victim wants to go after they have been molested?"

"The police?" Ichibana suggested.

"The pregnancy clinic?" Gushoushin piped in.

**003: **McDonalds?

"No, no and 003 that's just stupid!" I said, shooting my pet a very unimpressed look. "Try to take this seriously please."

Oriya was more on track then the other two, most assuredly because of his profession. His eyes indicated that the answer to my question was to his knowledge as a result of years of experience. Just as he was able to identify the scars on my waist, so too did he understand the working of the victim who has found themselves soiled by someone who has come upon them against their will.

"The poem mentions washing away sin, so it's clearly alluding to the desire of either the victim or even the perpetrator to eradicate the evidence that the crime has even occurred in the first place." He crossed his arms, head tilted back and expression almost serene. "My girls, after they have been with a client, the very first thing they are required to do is cleanse themselves. They are of course taking the birth control pill but many of the men who frequent here will often pay extra to go bareback. That is of course, sex without a condom. So the girls must wash themselves thoroughly and then see a doctor."

I nodded, admiring and adoring his intelligence more and more by the second. "Exactly. 'Only one place where sin's washed away.'"

"But that could indicate one of two potential places!" Ichibana argued, jabbing at his palm with one long fingernail. "A: The shower or B: The bath. Assuming they wash themselves inside of course and not down in the river."

Oriya glanced down at him with that same lazy assurance. "Not down by the river, no. I'm more inclined to lean in favor of the bath. A woman… when she wishes to clean inside of her vagina, she will swab with a cloth or facewasher or any suitable material she may have at hand. The bath provides better positioning in order to accomplish this task."

Sometimes I was concerned that Oriya understood the intimate workings of womens business just that little _too _well. Did they actually offer this information voluntarily, or was this something he had picked up at 'Pimp School'?

"I agree with Oriya. Either way, if this Popo Bawa wanted to conceal the idenity of his host, he might have cleaned them. Internally. The samples I've tested turned up negative for everything, so I suppose it's not unlikely the Popo Bawa tried to cover his tracks."

"But what evidence could he possibly have left behind in the bathroom?" Gushoushin wondered. At this, I shrugged.

"To be honest… I don't know. But I feel that I'm being directed towards there and I can't say for sure but I get the feeling that things will be cleared up, once I've taken a look!" Ah, I'm so delightfully optimistic, am I not? "There's someone else at work here… I think Mitkiel is trying to inedvertedly help me figure out who the Popo Bawa is by leaving those clues behind and by sending his Pet and servants to intercept Tsuzuki and I."

"Well, what are we waiting for!?" Gushoushin cried, slapping his hands together eagerly. "Let's go check out this bathroom and see if anything pans out!"

We made our way to the closed hallway and Oriya unlocked the doors, letting us inside. With solemnity we moved to the rooms where the murders had occurred and stepped within once he too had granted us access. The room was still very dark and quite spooky. To take my mind off of my impending anxiety attack, I questioned Ichibana about Seki as we approached the bathroom in single, paranoid file.

"What other proof did Kira provide you, to suggest that Seki is indeed alive?" My stomach kept doing flip-flops and I had to keep forcing my joy back, withholding my urgent desire to leap in the air and scream my relief for all to hear. I couldn't survive the disappointment… not if it turned out to all be a mistake.

The short djinni petted my back but his smile grew with boisterous enthusiasm.

"She's not on the List, blondie. At least, not _consistently _on the list."

This threw me for a loop and I wasn't quite sure _how _to feel about it exactly. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," the djinni began, waving his hands about. "Is that Seki is somehow moving back and forth between the world of the dead and the world of the living. She's somehow passing between them… perhaps this induced coma is wearing off and she's regaining consciousness on and off? But whenever she falls back to sleep, she seems to pass into some… other place."

Some 'Other place'. Just as Tsuzuki and I had both passed out and had awoken in some 'Other Place'. All a toy of this Popo Bawa, to confuse and torment us, so that we _would _rush off and bust a cap in Mitkiel's ass. Well, I wasn't going to be doing him no favors. If he had Seki, I would be taking her back off of him. Once I'd made him suffer for everything he had done to her, to those girls he had murdered…

… and to Oriya, whose heart had been broken.

I would never forgive this creature for what he had done! I was not a cruel man but I would see him through the Ninth Circle of Hell before I let him die, so give me the power to deliver him pain!

Ichibana rubbed my back, apparently sensing my anger. His eyes held a gentleness they normally did not possess.

"Watari…_ trust me_. With this, if anything. She's alive. Kira doesn't get these things wrong." He gave my hair a little ruffle. "You're going to see her again. Ye hear? Yer gonna get yer second chance."

"I sure hope so," I whispered back, sighing as our merry band halted just outside the closed bathroom entrance. We hadn't investigated in there. I suppose no one had thought to, not when there had been so much to focus on within the center of the room proper. Bad investigatory skills for you and it was a slip I could have paid very dearly for, if I failed to convey it poorly to the Boss.

Of couse, he didn't have to know about not. Provided I adequately bribe the Gushoushin with a supplementary meal voucher.

"Well… here we go." Oriya provided, easing open the bathroom door. It was so dramtic; I think we all held our breaths as the light from the room outside seeped across the tiled floorwell, bathing the distance shower glass in a misty glow. Oriya hit the switch and the room was flooded verily with light. It only took us each a good second to take in what should have been seen a god damn week ago.

The bathtub was half full, the water murky. Strands of hair and congealing fluid floated on the surface and the water itself had gone a kind of funky gray color, like old dishwashing water that needed to be changed.

It had a bad smell, like stale sex if such a union could expire and I saw Ichibana pinch his nose from the corner of my eye. I didn't bother with this myself (after the Room of Corollary, I was sort of desensitized to other bad smells) and took a step into the room, keeping my eyes focused hard on the foreign object I could see, still stained by blood and buried an inch deep into the wall above the tub.

I swallowed deeply. I could still feel that cold blade pressed into the skin behind my ear. I had to remind myself that this was completely unrelated, though the weapon itself may have been the same. The very same weapon, if not _the _weapon.

"Boys, I think we've finally found our murder weapon."

A three by three inch diameter. A mark that could have only been inflicted by either a short samurai sword, such as the ilk adorning the walls of Oriya's room…

… or by a meat cleaver.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

I lifted fingerprints off of the handle of the cleaver and took a sample of the contaminated water and had a messenger come by to collect and then deliver them to the Level Four Lab, along with my urine sample.

"They'll perform a more in-depth DNA enquiry once they've received the samples." I explained to Oriya, typing up my progress report, ready to email direct to the Summons Section. "I just can't believe how stupid this guy is! Fancy leaving a weapon behind and not even bothering to wipe his fingerprints off of the handle! I mean, sure the guy wants to be noticed but that's just downright sloppy!"

"How soon will the results come back?" Oriya asked, compulsively chain-smoking his pipe as 003 coughed from his shoulder, battering the offensive fog away with his stout wing. I smirked with cocky assurance, sweeping my fingernails back through my hair.

"If all goes well, sometime early tomorrow morning. With any luck, this scum bags already on the data base and that way we can just point him out, take him down and then… Miller time!"

"Hunky dory." Oriya stated, extinguishing his pipe to 003's apparent relief and then reaching up to pet the little owl on his bushy cranium. "Well, I'll let you get on with it. Gotta go keep an eye on those kids anyhow." He climbed to his feet, and then bent his upper body down to kiss me quickly on the mouth. "You done good. All a' ya. Be sure to come down for lunch when you're ready." With a satisfied smile, he left the room, 003 vaulting free of his shoulder at the last minute, circling around to perch himself on the lid of Gushoshin's laptop and then hunkering himself down for a nap. I stretched my fingers out and cracked my knuckles, unable to wipe the stupid smirk off of my face.

"Just when I thought I couldn't wrangle a clue to save my ass, all this comes about!" I flashed my teeth at Ichibana, who returned my smile, though somewhat nervously. I did my best to ignore him, hoping that if I kept talking, he wouldn't drop whatever bad news bear he clearly had kept hidden the entire morning. "Not only have I scraped up some fantastic clues but I've found out that Seki's still alive, I have a good idea who the killer is and Oriya is taking me out for dinner tonight! Now I can just relax until tomorrow morning, without a single care in the-"

"You have to break up with Oriya."

That's when I flew across the room and hurled Ichibana out through the glass sheeting and face first into the koi pond.

Well no, I didn't. That's what misplaced projection I should have done but didn't. I just remember staring at him, thinking to myself _'He's so jealous, he just can't stand it that _I've _got a spunky hunk of samurai spunk and he doesn't!_' But of course in my heart, I knew this couldn't be the case.

"And why on earth should I do that?" I questioned lazily, using denial to try and force the seriousness of the situation aside. If the situation was not serious, then I was not required to pay it credence.

Ichibana looked upon me with solemn eyes. His arms were crossed and his posture as stern as I had ever seen it.

"Because Enma knows."

Three words that strike fear into the heart of any Guardian who has ever had it off with a mortal. Three words that spelt instant divorce in any relationship. Three words that forced my lazy concern to take a flying leap right on into serious street. I jumped up from my seat in front of the laptop, my body positively electric.

"What?! That's impossible! How could he know?"

"Beats me." Ichibana confessed, shrugging his sloping shoulders amiably. "But Kira said he had a _pretty _graphic and detailed idea about just how much you've done with the guy. Seems Big Brother's watching if you get me."

"There aren't any of Enma's creepy voyeur camera's in Kokakuro! This just doesn't make any sense! I mean, there's just no rational way that he could-" And it hit me, mid screech just how perfectly rational it was. With any other Guardian, it may have been easy to conceal such an intimacy but it was just that tad more difficult when you were… well, _me. _"Oh shit."

Ichibana cocked his brow towards me. "Oh shit, what? Sounds like you figured this out on yer own, boss."

I nodded wearily, sinking down back into my previous position by the laptop, fingers sprouted across my forehead.

"It's Mother."

"Mother?" Ichibana came and plonked himself down before me. "You mean your _Mom _told Enma that you were having it off with Hot-Stuff?" His eyes widened with palpable concern. "Just how _much _do you tell your Mom about yer romantic liasons, anyway? Geez... that's a bit much!"

I pinched his ear lobe. "Not my _real _Mother! That's ludicrous! Mother is the super computer of the Ministry of Hades."

Ichibana rubbed his sore ear. "So you've been _posting _your sexual exploits _online? _Well, it was really only a matter of time before Enma stumbled across it then, wasn't it? With the way that perve grills through the porn sites…"

I shook my head. "No, you idiot! Mother is a Master Computer… it's like the center of the Ministry's intelligence. Everything we Guardians of Death ever learn goes into the heart of Mother."

"Aww… that's sweet."

"Not really…" I said, biting my lip nervously and glancing to the side. "Mother and I haven't exactly been on speaking terms since I tried to hack into her on my last assignment. She messed with my brain a bit… think I went kind of nuts there for a while."

"But that still doesn't explain how this Mother knows any more about you then Enma does?" The djinni offered, cocking his head to the side. 003 hooted nonchalantly from the laptop, listening in even though he already knew the details of my involvement with Mother.

"Because I was one of the Five Generals assigned to the Mother Project before I became a Guardian of Death. I was given special privileges, so to speak." I tapped my temple with one of my chipped fingernails. "I was Head Chief and as such I helped design Mother. To establish an interactive basis with the developing project, the five members of the development team were connected to her. A microchip was planted in our cerebral cortex, causing the tissue of the brain to continuously heal about the intrusion. This is an ongoing process that never stops. The regeneration process goes on and on but it's something that I no longer notice. More to the point, this chip acts as a kind of miniature computer terminal, allowing me to access Mother, provided I break through the required security measures. The downside is…"

"She can access your _head _in return." Ichibana concluded, sighing deeply as though sharing my disappointment. "Tough break, man. Fancy that, having a live in audience and not even knowing about it."

"Oh yeah…" I felt my shoulders cascading down in defeat. The idea that Enma had been watching Oriya through my eyes made me feel dirty. "Either way, there's no possible way I can hide what I'm doing from him, if he's accessing Mother to check up on me, eh?"

"Guess you know what you gotta do then."

"Indeed." I started to shuffle through my medical case. "_You _and Gushoushin will crack open my head and dig out that there thingymajigger with this here pair of pliers." I held them out to Ichibana with gusto. "Granted I will undoubtedly sustain a great deal of brain damage but just prop me up in front of Oriya and I'm sure he'll take the drooling for how I normally behave around him."

Ichibana cast the pliers aside and grabbed me by my frantic shoulders. "I ain't goin' there, son, for a great many reasons. That's not the answer to this dilemma and you know it."

I felt my eyes start to well up. "But… I don't want to break things off with Oriya. He's the best damn thing that's happened to me in a long time! I mean, you've seen him. Would _you _break up with him?" I squared my shoulders and set my finger against my temple, speaking with loud exaggerated mirth. "You listening, Mama? Well why don't you tell Enma to go fuck the horse he rode in on?"

"Blondie!" Ichibana gasped, horrified. "Kira said you'll lose your job if this continues on! That means no retirement benefits, cancellation of your dental plan and you can just say bye-bye to any chance you'll ever have of seeing Oriya again, cause you'll be movin' on! Up or down, it don't matter cause he'll still be here on earth and you won't ever get to come back here!"

That stopped my name calling short and I suckered in my mouth, as though I'd just imbibed a lemon.

"This doesn't make sense…" I whined, tapping my broken fingernails against the bench top. I _really _needed to set aside some time to treat myself to a manicure. "I've had relationships with mortals before! Perhaps not to the degree of infatuation that I feel for Ori but… why? Why is the Lord making such a big deal out of this?"

Ichibana gave my knee a little shake. "Beats me. If anything _I'm _the one 'e should be worryin' about."

I cocked my head, not sure that I much fancied the sound of this. "Meaning…?"

He repeated the information he had given Oriya the previous night, about his past service to Mitkiel and the reasons as to why he no longer served him. He also put forth a theory regarding Mitkiel's servants, whom we had thus met already.

"When I was servin' Mitkiel, I worked alongside the Cutthroat, the Bloodbath and the Daemon of Delusion; Prince Eurynomous, Mara and Balban." He counted each servant off on his fingers. "I replaced the vacated position of the Fourth Apostle. That's how Mitkiel referred to them as; his apostles. But see now, we've concluded that Mitkiel is being framed for these crimes and yet we are being confronted by his servants, yeah?"

"Yeah?" I prompted, nodding attentively.

"My guess is, Mitkiel has sent these servants scootin' about, checking up on the victims that wear the _Shukusatsu_. What Eurynomous did to you last night... perhaps the mark only reveals itself when you are confronted by a situation that replicates the emotional density you endured at the time the mark was made upon you. So... it goes to show that perhaps in the eyes of Mitkiel and Eury, that act of degradation was necessary." He scratched his head inconclusively. "Suppose Eury thought he was makin' it up by killin' those guys when the work was done... Ah, I dunno how that guys mind works sometimes."

I sighed deeply, not even able to fully appreciate Ichibana's insight. I was far too depressed and he could sense that. He made a sympathetic utterance and rubbed at my shoulder.

"Who am I kiddin'? Like ye even care about _that _crap right now?" He scooted closer and rested his arms about my shoulders, rocking my body from side to side in a brotherly sort of way. "Ye can't stop thinkin' about what yer gonna say ta Hot Stuff, can ya? Look, it don't gotta be a big deal. Just tell 'im that things are gettin' too heavy and ye need ta take a step back. Cool yer jets. Ye said it yerself; ye've been with other mortals besides Mibu. Don't see why this had got ya so worked up."

My eyes widened and I slammed my hand down on the table so hard it was a wonder it didn't snap in two.

"This is _different. _Oriya is… _different._"

"_How?_." Ichibana asked, as he checked the table for damage. "How is this _any _different to _any _other person or time or place?"

I shrank from this challenge. "I… I don't know! Okay? It just is!"

He shook me in his tight hold. "_I'll _tell ya how it's different, boy. It's different because there seems to be nothin' wrong with this man. It's different because the idea of separating yerself from 'im is makin' yer chest hurt like there's Hell burnin' deep in yer heart. It's different because you're in love with him."

I spun about in his arms, staring with incredulous shock into his exotically beautiful features.

"In.. in love?! With Oriya?" I was overcome by sudden wanker epilepsy and started shaking my entire upper boy in a great-exaggerated attempt to deny his words. "No! That's just… it's way too soon to even be thinkin' like that!"

Ichibana continued to smile in that unwavering, know-it-all-manner he must have learnt off of me.

"Then what's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal?!" I repeated, outraged.

"If you don't love him, what's the big deal?"

That had been the final straw for me. I slammed my hands palm down on the table; head hanging between my arms, long bangs swaying on either side of my no doubt somnolent expression like curtains preparing to swing shut on a rousing performance. The breaths tearing from my body were forceful and frightening. They overpowered my senses and raped me, forcing me to submit to the dominant reasoning that was being thrust against me again and again. Pinned beneath Ichibana's astute observations, there was no escaping. The truth was that much more powerful.

"Because… Because… !" I pressed my nails in sharply against the side of my face, feeling all consuming anger take hold of me. I thought I would explode if I could not soon express it. "- because my feelings are _not_ for Enma to dictate! And so what if I love Oriya? Shouldn't I be allowed to? Isn't it okay?!"

"Watari…" The djinni's voice was as soft and gentle as it had ever been. I recalled that Ichibana had always made light of Tsuzuki's tendency to act too kindly, to treat people more gently than they deserved. But these apparent faults that he had once made fun of were the exact manner in which he treated me that night. If anyone would have understood and veiled my breakdown, it was he. He who had suffered through so much himself.

I coiled on the floor and pressed my hand across my face, caging in my tearful expression. My remaining hand I curled into a tight rock of a fist and I pounded it down against the table, cursing from between the constricted sobs that threaded through the bars of my fingers.

"Damn you! Damn you, damn you, DAMN YOU!" I screamed, propelling the entire force of my shoulder into each punch, the end result being a barrage of wood chips whistling out from the point of impact. Blood started to spray in squelchy bursts from my scraped knuckles, droplets flinging back to splatter against the rise of my cheeks. I was vaguely aware of the Gushoshin attempting to pull him away, most likely trying to save the furniture (and our account balance) before it was completely annihilated as a result of my tantrum. Ichibana too made a half-hearted attempt to restrain me and I struggled against him furiously, trying to twist in the djinni's hold to land a strike upon his face. But as an Underdweller Ichibana's reflexes were superhuman and he managed to evade most of my strokes without expending too much effort to the thought of it. I knew that if I was really serious about injuring my servant I could have done so quite easily by now. With a spell, or a simple utterance to bind him back into my glasses. But my heart wasn't in it. Ichibana wasn't the one I was angry with.

"Why is he punishing me like this?!" I shrieked in what I regretfully knew must have been a rather uncomely manner. Ichibana and Gushoshin couldn't possibly have looked more sympathetic as they placed their respective arms and wings about me. "I tried so hard! I tried! Ever since that day… Why doesn't he want me to be happy?! What's wrong with me being happy?"

"Nothing, baby," Ichibana's voice was soothing and his hold inoffensive. My throat constricted in a strangled hiccup as I attempted to hold back the birth of another sob, tears springing to life from the corners of my eyes. "Aniki… I'm sorry. But you can't fight this. Not yet. Give yerself some wriggle room fer now and do as Enma asks."

"I know… I know I gotta do it." I squeezed my eyes shut, holding a hand to my chest. "It's not right… If I was Tsuzuki, it wouldn't have to be this way. My chest _wouldn't have to hurt like this._"

Ichibana snorted, resting his cheek against my hair. "Look at it this way mate; _you _don't have ta put up with the Count, or Mad-Eye or that divinely traumatic back story. I bet Tsuzuki would rather step into your floppy clown shoes any day of the week."

**XxXxXxXxXx**

I went to see Oriya immediately after. He was sitting on the deck; smoking his pipe and watching Yoshi play catch with the children. I tried to slip in beside him unnoticed but Oriya's senses being as finely attuned as they were, caught me the second I approached the sliding door. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled warmly at me.

"Hey there you." He purred, gesturing for me to come closer. "Come and sit down, enjoy the sun with me. It's really a beautiful day."

I went and sat beside him, not too far and not too close. He didn't take to the minimal distance I had established and scooted closer, leaning down to share close confidences with me.

"The outfits quite racy but I rather like it." He rubbed his hand across my bare stomach and then down to my thigh, giving it an affection tap. "I can't ever get used to young people wearing such minimal clothing these days… though you do have very pretty legs. And your hair looks striking but I do think I prefer it wavy." He passed his fingers through the blond strands and then brought them down my back. I shivered as his fingertips trailed across my spine.

"Oriya…"

"There are a number of Italian Restaurants I could book us into for tonight." His arm went around me, tugged me close against his body. I fought back the pleasurable warmth and comfort his touch and proximity gave me. "Why don't you come inside and help me pick one out? I am on close personal terms with most of the maitre'd's in Kyoto, so spare no thought for the expense. I want everything to be perfect."

My heart felt heavy with despair and I let my forehead drop down into my hands. "Oh, Oriya."

His arm wet rigid and then his face came even closer against my own. I felt his breath against my skin.

"What is it? You're so… tense and upset." His other arm came around me and he pulled me into a complete embrace, trying to pull my face up out of my palms. "Has something gone wrong? With the case? Are you in trouble?" His voice lowered into a concerned susurration. "Are you leaving? Being called back to the Ministry?"

Oh if only… if only that were the worst of my problems. "Oriya…" I forced myself to meet his eyes and my resolve to continue on with this unwanted act near shattered from the depth of empathy I saw radiating out through those dark orbs. "We… we have to end it here. It can't go on any further."

His arms dropped and I looked away from his face, not wanting to witness the fall of his expression also.

"What do you mean?" His voice sounded as dry and broken as footsteps through autumn leaves, breaking beneath the traction of my heels. How I loathed Enma for this. How I loathed myself, the messenger, who had to convey it to Oriya! "You want this… to stop?" He tossed his pipe aside and clutched the sides of face between my hands, forcing my eyes back up. "Don't look away from me, Yutaka! Tell me why you don't want to be with me and show me the sincerity in your expression! … Do you think for a second that I would or _could _ever hurt you?"

I shook my head, as much as I could in his hold. "No. No, no, no and it's not _me _that wants to end this. Dear God, I want you more than anything." I wasn't embarrassed in the least to confess this. I trusted him with my feelings as well as my heart.

"Then why?"

I swallowed back a dry lump. "Enma… the head honcho of the Ministry found out about us. And… it's sort of taboo for Guardians to date mortals. The whole… dead interfering with the living… near-necrophiliac relations, that sort of thing. He proposed that if I were to continue interfering with your life, that I could be moved on."

"Moved on?" His voice was so weak and whispery I wasn't even sure what he had said at first. But I could deduce his question as one that I myself would ask where I in his shoes.

"If I'm no longer a Guardian of Death… I would move on. To… the next stage." I waved my hand about ineffectually. "Heaven… Hell… whatever. And I would never see you again."

He released my face, shifting back from me as though I had uttered something terribly uncouth about his mother. I hated that look on his face. I hated that we had been brought here to this moment…

"We can't just… keep it secret?" He brought his fingers to rest against my knee and I clutched them between my own.

"No." I said, feeling my face start to wrench in order to accommodate my feelings. Oriya's own masterfully controlled features were also beginning to crack. He didn't understand and this was hurting him because he couldn't see a valid reason to end our blissful happiness.

"Yutaka…" His fingers squeezed mine more thoroughly, as though he were grasping upon fleeting straws. I chose to watch them, rather than his progressively collapsing face. "I… I don't want this to end…" I let him cup my neck with his spare hand, though I would normally not permit such a touch. "If you had some idea of how you make me feel… the light you've brought here to me… I can't lose that."

"And I can't lose you." I replied, my own voice bent and ineffective. "If I don't end this… I end my time with you forever. And I'm not prepared to move on just yet. At least this way… I can still come see you. I can still be your friend."

"My friend…" Oriya drawled and he sounded very much as though he wanted to spit those words out onto the porch decking. "I don't know if I can stay friends with someone that I… long for this way."

I let go of his hands and brought both my arms around his neck, bringing my forehead against his. I shut my eyes and sent him the full extremity of my feelings.

"Oriya, this I promise you;" His arms slid around my waist and unified our bodies in symmetrical worship. "Together or apart, I pledge to you my eternal heart and my undying love. Forever I am yours."

He lifted his head and our mouths met in a red-hot fire, sealing my vows to the passage of his lips and soul. I started to feel overcome, my body surrendering to the physical sensations of our embrace and I knew it was time to step on out. It took everything I had to force myself free of him and to push my shaking legs up through the doorway of the Kokakuro and into the shadows of the foyer beyond.

"Yutaka…" Oriya called.

I kept walking.

_**- End Part One-**_


	24. Watari: Loves Last Surrender Pt: 2

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer: **Yami no Matsuei is the property of Yoko Matsushita, not the property of NaPap. And don't think I'm not suing!

**Loves Last Surrender – Part Two**

**Watari**

We didn't go to dinner that night. Gushoshin and I worked hard on the case all day and well into the night, only pausing long enough for me to take a shower and wash away the stink the broiling heat had made of me. The yukata I changed into was a perfect fit. I exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam; my complexion somewhat flushed and my hair pulled back in an immaculate braid.

"Just think… I could have a real job!" I sighed, running a hand through my still damp bangs.

Gushoshin flashed me a somewhat disapproving look from behind the glowing screen of the laptop. "Are you sure you were in there long enough? You may have left just a _smidgen _of hot water and you wouldn't want it to go to waste. What with there only being seven or so other people needing to frequently clean themselves in this establishment."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Oh, would you lighten up Gushoshin? I'm just taking advantage of Mr. Mibu's kind hospitality!"

The Gushoshin scoffed and lowered his head, speaking in a hushed overtone. "I'm under the impression that is not he only aspect of Mr. Mibu that you would care to take advantage of."

"I heard that!" I snapped, sliding my glasses on and wandering over to peruse the information panning across the computer screen. "Did my information on the sigil stand up?"

"It certainly did!" Gushoushin said, bringing up a minimized icon with much enthusiasm. "I checked out the components in correspondence to the demons Eurynomous, Mara, and Balban and at least three portions of the sigil sloppily correspond to these specific demons markings. The forth portion matches the sigil of Cathichas perfectly, so it seems that Kira Tsukiori's information was correct."

I felt a burgeoning sense of satisfaction drill through my body. At long last it felt as though we were getting somewhere. That I was finally figuring this whole sorry puzzle out! A great weight had been lifted from my conscience already. I wasn't alone in this fight anymore. I had the ministry's backing in the form of Kira Tsukiori, Enma's most trusted elite agent. Seki was still alive. She was no doubt the prisoner of that awful man and the Popo Bawa but as long as she was alive, there was still a chance that we could find one another again. There was still a chance that I could redeem myself. And that opportunity was _everything _to me.

"It's definitely a flawed representation of the signature of Mitkiel. Looks like he has been framed by this Cathichas character after all." I leant over, placing my hands against the curve of my knees and taking a more comprehensive look at the sigil. "There must be a way we can find out where Cathichas is hiding… I had a look this afternoon and none of the recent files panned out. I suggest we put it aside for now and peruse the older files tomorrow."

The Gushoushin stretched his arms out above his head, bringing his fisted hands down to rub his eyes. "Well, I'm wide awake, so I don't mind going through some of the earlier files now."

I glared at him with an understanding smirk set upon my features. I had a good idea what he was getting at with this. "You're just saying that to make me feel guilty about taking a break, aren't you? Why don't you just go ahead and write 'Bad Guardian' on my forehead?"

He chuckled softly, waving a hand back towards me with dissuasive insistence. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. Oh and by the way, Mr. Mibu called on you a while you were dallying in the shower." I couldn't help but bite into my lip upon hearing the name. Separating myself from Oriya had been a nightmare to say the least and maintaining that distance was the only thing that would keep my desires from driving me insane. "He wanted to talk to you about something, said to go see him when you were done."

**- SC -**

And that's how I found myself outside Oriya's door only minutes later. I knocked twice, hesitantly, almost hoping that he wouldn't answer. That he had gone to sleep, was taking a shower, was waxing his chest… just so long as he was doing something that would keep him from adhering to my presence, forcing me into a compromising position between my lust and my duty to the Ministry of-

"Come in."

I resigned myself to the inevitable with a sigh and slid open the door, entering the room as professionally as possible. Oriya was shelving one of his katana's on its' display stand. He was wearing a beautiful black kimono with embroided flowers of red and white along its' exquisite length. It peeked a little wider at the chest than his normal attire and I had to consciously force myself to look at his face, rather than what sat below it. It certainly wasn't strengthening my resolve to separate myself from him. I'm sure that was his intention all along. You sneaky bastard.

"Ah, Mr. Watari –" His voice was cool and smooth, so I wasn't able to tell exactly what mood he was in. He didn't appear to be cross. "I was beginning to think your push towards professionalism would keep you from attending to my presence."

"Eh-heh." I flashed a nervous smile. "G-Gushoushin said you wanted to see me about something?" My face twisted comically. "Oh no! You're unhappy with our investigation process, aren't you? Our results are unsatisfactory! I'm sorry this is taking so long but I do have a tendency to be overly meticulous, as you are most certainly more than aware of by this stage-"

Oriya held up a hand smartly, cutting my babbling excuse making short. "Hey, take it easy, blondie. I didn't call you here to whack you around the legs with a wooden stick."

'_Though I might like that.' _I thought, then immediately berated myself for thinking that way. This was in no way conducive towards maintaining a professional relationship with this man!

Oh God, how I loathed Enma for this. Don't _think _he wouldn't be hearing about it in the next Employer satisfaction survey. And that suggestion box would be overflowing, you mark my words!

"Don't go jumping to conclusions." Oriya finished, honoring me with a patient smile. I sighed in relief, pressing my fingers across my chest, registering the excitable fluttering of my heart as I did.

"Well, thank God for that…" I murmured, faintly relieved that Oriya hadn't used the shift in our relationship as an excuse to crack down on me, so to speak. His attitude was as seemingly congenial as ever.

"Actually, I think you've been doing an exemplary job." He confessed, stepping away from the display wall and approaching the center of the room. He gestured for me to step past the doorway and I entered with tentative hesitance, sliding the door shut against my better judgment. It was like placing my signature on the contract of inevitability. I was consigning myself to the predictable conclusion.

I chided myself internally, concentrating on the conversation. I couldn't concern myself with things that may or may not happen. "Really?" I asked, wishing I could think of something to do with my arms. They seemed very obvious to me all of a sudden, hanging limp and loose at my sides. I brought them up and crossed them over my chest, trying not to make it seem like a defensive pose. Hisoka was the master of that one. "You're happy with how the case has been going?"

He nodded slowly and deeply, in that special way only very composed and mature people were able to do. His own arms were tucked into the wide sloping sleeves of his yukata and he didn't look the least bit uncomfortable. "Certainly. You've made remarkable headway. You're beginning to make progress; your investigative skills are second to none. I'm rather impressed by you, Guardian."

I puffed my chest out, feeling quite pleased with myself for all of two seconds. Until Oriya quashed my enthusiasm in one foul swoop.

"I didn't think a blond would even know where to begin! You've certainly proved me wrong."

I felt sweat pop out on my forehead. I wasn't quite sure how to handle this gracefully, so I went the safe route and chose to say nothing, just chuckle a little at my own folly. It was amazing how this man could effectively promote and belittle a person in just the one sentence.

His smile hitched higher, indicating that he meant no harm by his comment. I suppose he felt the need for a peace offering anyway because the next second saw him sweeping over to the nightstand. He swung the glass doors open, revealing a modest but at the same time impressive liquor supply. "I believe a congratulatory drink is in order." He stated, indicating the delicious bouquet with a grandiose sweep of his lean hand. I held up my own in some manner of protest.

"Oh, well that's very generous of you, Mr. Mibu but don't you have some business that needs taking care of, first?" I'm sure it didn't come off as sounding very sincere but as a man moderately fond of indulging in the fey mistress Alcohol, it was near to impossible for me to afford some genuine articulation to my speech when said mistress was dropped squarely in my lap, figuratively nude and lathered up in baby oil.

Oriya laughed, hand already performing a prostate check deep in the dark bowels of the cupboard. "That _was _the business, blondie." He squinted down along the line of his hand, obviously trying to suss out an appropriate blend. "I would have invited the little birdie around but he didn't look as though he could handle his liquor all that well. And I do hate to waste such fine produce." At long last he withdrew the bottle of his choosing and brought it over for me to inspect. I nearly fell over backwards once I had gotten a good look at the label.

"Calvados Hors D'age?! Oriya, this… this is… a fifteen year old brandy!" I squealed, no doubt with diamonds in my eyes. Here in my hand I was holding a bottle that had started to ferment when Oriya had been a teenager. "Next to shöchu, brandy is my favorite! Well, after beer that is…"

"Ah yes. I assumed you would approve." Oriya said. He sounded awfully smug, as though this was some indication that he could afford me any number of pleasures that I desired, without my ever needing to ask for them.

"Approve?!" I spluttered, gripping the bottle to my chest as though it were my newborn child. "If this were a person I would rent it an apartment and visit it on the side! This stuff's so pure it shows up on some periodic tables!"

"My… who ever would have thought the blondie had such good taste." The samurai mused, running his fingernail down the line of the bottle, and then tilting it back up again to lightly trace the curved corner. The implication wasn't lost on me.

"Well… I picked you, didn't I?" I said softly, ever so shyly. Oriya was silent but I could sense that he was as resentful of Enma's orders as I was. This wasn't his fault and it wasn't mine either. It was just stupid dumb rules and we were the ones paying for it.

If only he hadn't been so easy to adore.

Oriya gently extricated the bottle from my tight grasp and held it up by the neck. The light was very dim in the room and it was hard for me to get a good look at anything but I could see that the bottle had not yet been opened. Fifteen years corked up and stowed away and now… here it was.

"So… care to join me for a drink?" He asked tentatively. I was more than honored and it took a while to think of how best to respond.

"Oriya… this is a fifteen year old brandy! You sure you wanna be wasting it on me?"

He looked annoyed. I could tell because his lip curled up slightly and he tapped my head with the bottle, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to let me know that I was being ungracious.

"You brat. It's not wasted on you and I know you realize that." He brought the bottle back against his body, expression drooping somewhat to indicate rejection. "If you do not wish to be in my company this evening, at least be honest enough to say so. Don't go skirting the issue."

How could he even believe that I felt that way? Didn't he realize how I longed for him? How I wanted him with every fiber of my heart and hormones? (The order of that changed depending on the time of day) I would have happily spent every second of every day with him, if he would let me. But Enma… my job at the Ministry… what was I supposed to do?

"Oriya, that's not it." I groaned, resting my hand about his wrist and distributing a comforting squeeze against the bone. "I'd love to have a drink with you! I just think that you're spoiling me with such a bottle… you should save it for a special occasion!"

"What special occasion could I possibly save it for?" He uttered tartly and I felt an enormous wave of pity course through my body for this beautiful man. As decent and kind as he undoubtedly was, he felt very much alone in the world. He'd said it when we'd first met him, those many months ago in Kyoto, though none of us had cared to understand the depth and true resentment behind those telling words: _"A man like me, living in my ghostly world, has no right to interfere with those who are fighting for their lives._"

I understood now, all too well. And I was sick with it. Oriya… he felt dead. In his mind, his existence was void and pointless, even in comparison to those of us that were truly departed.

Oriya felt deader than the dead themselves. God, what a thoughtless prat I was! Worrying about my job and reputation when here this man was clinging to the hope that our relationship could be salvaged, because for whatever the reason, I made him feel alive.

I looked up into his face; forcing the pity not to show and I brought him a smile as purely loving as I possibly could. It had a visible effect. I felt the character of his face change almost instantaneously. There was new warmth and color and I knew that he was grateful to me.

"You're right. We have plenty to celebrate right now." I clenched his free hand between both mine and gave it a tender squeeze. "We know what the killer is. We know that Seki is alive and we can assume for the time being that she is safe. We have air in our lungs and brain cells to destroy. We're healthy, happy and young. Well… _you're _young at least. I can drink to that."

Oriya smirked. He seemed very pleased. "Very well. Just make sure that door's locked. I wouldn't want any of my girls to see me handing this out at liberty. They'd get jealous."

I slid the lock into place on the door as Oriya placed a series of cushions upon the floor, all the better to preserve the sanctity of our butt muscles. I sidled up to join him, watching with curious interest as he placed two tulip shaped snifter glasses down upon the floor and proceeded to empty an appropriate amount into each. My father had been quite the brandy connoisseur and when I'd been old enough to legally drink, he would let me join him and my brothers down in the den to enjoy a glass or two, have a smoke and tell dirty jokes. My father… I hadn't thought of him in some time. The scent of the brandy brought his face to the forefront of my memory. He had been entirely Japanese and he had gone to England whilst he was a young man to live and work for some years. That's where he had met my mother and like most great romance stories they fell in love and whipped their butts off to the Casino Chapel. Some time after their marriage, they'd traveled back to Japan to live where they popped out us kids. He'd been a big man my father. He'd had dark, mussed hair, weathered features and a great smile. He'd worn glasses, though the frames were considerably smaller than mine and he always seemed to have the butt of a stogie between his lips. He'd loved cigars. Heck, I think he fancied himself a bit of an old fashioned English detective after living there for a number of years.

God, I missed that man. He'd been a wonderful father and a strong, valiant protector. He'd been good to me. Even if he had taught me how to swear and smoke, something my mother had never settled for.

Oriya broke through my reminiscing by prodding the brandy glass towards my blank expression. "There you go."

"Thanking you!" I declared, taking the glass and holding it beneath my nose in order to inhale the deep, spicy scent of the brandy. Damn that brought back the memories… "Don't suppose you have anything I could smoke around here, do you?"

Oriya, in the midst of pouring his own cup, raised an eyebrow at me. "You don't have any cigarettes of your own left?"

I shook my head, holding the stem of the brandy glass between my fingers the way you're supposed to. It looked _so _sophisticated.

"Nah… I dropped them all in a puddle last night, remember? Sorry to be a bother but… whenever I drink brandy, I just sorta gotta have a smoke with it. My Papa and I… ya understand?"

Oriya mused on this for a bit. I could recall that he hadn't been exactly shouting his encouragement for me to smoke but then again, I think he could understand my feelings behind it. He climbed to his feet, abandoning his own serve for the time being.

"I don't have anything like cigars or cigarette's at the moment. But if you like, we could share my pipe. Would that be alright?"

Sharing Oriya's pipe… the idea was delightfully provocative as well as quite an honor. I nodded my head and as some means of gratitude, took it upon myself to fill his glass as Oriya unearthed his ornate pipe.

"I know how things like this can be quite precious. This was my fathers pipe and he gave it to me as a gift, just after I had my accident." Oriya returned to sit beside me, retrieving a weathered pouch from the depths of his kimono pocket. He flipped it open and delved his fingers into the unfamiliar weed within. It seemed he caught my expression because the next moment he was chuckling to himself. "Do not concern yourself. It is not marijuana. I can't afford to indulge in such a weed; it would dull my senses considerably. This here is an aromatic herb, cultivated from the village of Asamimura. There is a relaxant property to it that helps soothe the mind and body but I can assure you, it is not of the illegal persuasion."

I shrugged light heartedly, watching with astute interest as Oriya filled the pipe. "I smoked pot once or twice when I was a teenager. Got no use for it now, that's for damn sure." He lit the pipe with a match and puffed a few times to allow the weed to catch. He inhaled deeply and the smoke filled his lungs and I was envious of it.

His eyes met mine. "I could kiss you right now and send this fog deep into your body."

I shivered, wishing he wouldn't just tease me with the words, though they did make the prospect of his actions so much more delicious.

Oriya lifted his glass and held it out me. The smoke passed out from between his lips and lifted into the night air, disappearing up into the rafters. I was jealous. That smoke had been inside of him. It had touched a part of him that would be beyond me forever.

I was jealous of _smoke_. This was a good place to get to.

"Here's to a successful resolution." He said, prompting me to lift my own glass. I raised both it and my smile in the one fell swoop.

"And a merry afterlife!" I concluded, clinking glasses with Oriya and then downing my drink in the one go. The brandy tasted full and dense upon my tongue, the flavor supple and full of memories. It warmed my chest as it slid down through my body, making my eyes water a little as the aftertaste bit back with a vengeance, flaring at the sides of my tongue aggressively. Oriya outwardly blanched at my confident show.

"I… uh… really don't think you should drink it that quickly Mr. Watari."

I held the glass back out to him and gave it a little shake to hurry him along. He'd offered me the brandy, now he would have to face the consequences. "Oh, don't worry about me, sir! I have a very high alcohol tolerance!" I hiccupped in order to add weight to my argument.

Oriya shrugged and refilled my glass. He was a little more generous this time around I noticed. "It's your hangover." He muttered, taking a sip of his own drink and then passing the pipe on to me. I took it in my left hand and brought the ornate setting to my lips, allowing my tongue to rest on the very place that Oriya's would have perched only moments before. I drew back carefully, pulling the smoke into my lungs and grimacing slightly at the unfamiliar taste that came with it. It took a moment but it became pleasant to me, possibly because it was the very same flavor that lingered in Oriya's mouth whenever we shared a kiss. Sometimes this, other times Tobacco. It was divine to be made a part of it.

I blew out the smoke and took a sip of my drink. I was beginning to feel very warm and light inside. "Ah… I love brandy. And shöchu too. Takes me back to my days in college. The first time I ever drank shöchu was when I was eighteen, at a campus party. I met Tamiko that night." I sighed deeply, passing the pipe back over to Oriya. Our fingers met along the line of the shaft and it sent an entirely pleasurable tingle up my spine. I felt like a teenager again. A teenager whose parents said I wasn't allowed to have a girl in my room while they were out but here I was doing it anyway. Take _that _Enma! "God… that really was a long time ago… I was so young. I thought I was going to be with her forever. I thought I was gonna _live _forever."

Oriya set the pipe between his lips and held it steady with his fingers. "It's funny, isn't it? The way some things relate back to a particular time in your life. The first time I smoked a cigarette was when I was thirteen. It reminds me of my father. He smoked 'With Class', an expensive brand. I was seventeen the first time I tried a pipe. That reminds me of the first night I spent with a girl."

And somehow the topic came back to sex, subtle though the implication was. I set my drink down, swirling my finger around the top of the glass. I was curious, always curious and I couldn't dissuade myself from wanting to know.

"If you don't mind me asking… how old were you when you realized?"

"Realized what?" Oriya said, drawing back upon the pipe and exhaling with svelte ease. This man could make disco look sophisticated.

"That you were bisexual?" I questioned, wondering if this were perhaps just a little too personal even as it hurled itself out from my lips. But Oriya didn't even look surprised that I had asked. He passed the pipe back to me, expression unchanging.

"Around the same time, actually. There was this teacher… he taught English literature."

I almost snorted smoke out of my nose."… You slept with a teacher?"

He laughed, waving a hand at me whilst swallowing the brandy he'd just slipped between his lips. "I didn't sleep with him! I was just attracted to him. Strongly enough to make me come to the conclusion that perhaps my door swung both ways. To be honest… I kind of liked it." He smiled in an almost mischievous way, swirling the liquid of his drink about in a contemplative arc. "To admit to myself that men were attractive to me… felt kind of sexy. Dangerous even."

"That's sort of how I felt too. Obviously." We both giggled like schoolgirls and that's when I knew for sure that the brandy was taking effect. What did I do, armed with this knowledge? Absolutely nothing. Well, nothing that I should have done, anyway. "So, do you want to honestly tell me why you specifically requested that _I _wasn't assigned to your case?"

"Still beating that dead horse, are we?" Oriya huffed, whipping the pipe out from between my lips and setting it back between his own.

"Yes I am! I was offended. It hurt my feelings." I took a deep sip, thinking as deeply on that issue as a marginally tipsy person could think. I barely registered the fact that Oriya was refilling my glass. "I can't recall ever having done anything to deserve that kind of disrespect from you. Unless…" I gasped aloud as though making a tremendous revelation. "I get it now! Oh my god, it was so blatantly obvious!"

"Please, share your thoughts." Oriya offered, sounding quite bored. I shot my finger into his face.

"You didn't want me because I'm a blond! You thought I was some ditzy, dumb, no hoper bimbo who couldn't tell a Macintosh from a microwave!"

What a conclusion. Whadda go Yutaka, you nailed that one.

Oriya was just as sound in his evaluation of my foregone deduction. "Wow, Mr. Watari, I may have underestimated you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You're acting more like a bimbo than I would have ever expected." He finalized, tipping his head back in order to drain the final dregs of his drink. I pouted at him through the base of his glass.

"Mibu, you are so mean."

The samurai chuckled, splashing a second generous helping into the now empty vessel. "No, I'm just teasing. I've never had any problems with you."

"Then why?" Still curious despite everything.

He gestured about with his glass as though it were a classroom pointer rather than a rare and perfectly aged beverage. "As I said before, your appearance just inspires all the wrong attention."

"Oh, I see." I said, stealing the pipe back off of him and taking another puff. "You were worried the girls wouldn't be able to work because they would be _all _over me." Seemed a fairly reasonably conclusion to draw in my opinion.

Oriya set his finger on the center of my forehead and used it to push me onto my back. I landed with a hard, overzealous thud on the floor, the pipe still clenched firmly between my teeth and brandy glass somehow remaining upright. How like me to not waste a drop.

"Dream on, four-eyes." Oriya muttered, leaning down over me in order to slide the pipe free and re-set it within the sanctions of his own full lips. "My girls don't attend to your presence that way and you know it. There's more of a chance that _I _would have been the one distracted."

"_You?_" I asked, though not as ignorant of his implications as I pretended to be.

"I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but I have an affinity for blondes." He murmured, winking beautifully at me.

I blushed beyond measure, knowing full well that I couldn't pretend not to notice his behavior towards me anymore. "Mr. Mibu, you shouldn't talk that way. Our arrangement being as it is now-"

He held up a hand, indicating that it wasn't necessary for me to say anything else. "Forgive me. I suppose my advancements have been inappropriate. It's just… the first time I met you, you struck me as a fun sort of guy, even with the geeky disposition and bottle-cap glasses."

"They're not _that _thick…" I said, touching the glasses with sudden insecurity.

"You should get contacts." He suggested, resettling himself atop one of the cushions and washing down the smoke from his pipe with a deep swill from his brandy glass. "You have such pretty eyes and the glasses only serve to draw attention away from them."

"You really think I have pretty eyes?" I was quite chuffed, to say the least. That wasn't something I got to hear very often.

"They're warm and… lively." He affirmed, smiling at me. I returned that warm gesture, feeling my face also flushing slightly at his words. Was there no end to this mans indisputable charm? Gosh, I just wanted to eat him!

"Thankyou." My voice was very soft and shy. I fancied it as almost an invitation that I was susceptible to anything right at that moment. But Oriya apparently didn't notice the gap in my outer wall because he returned to his drink and dropped a stunner on me instead.

" … You have one hell of a scary smile though."

I chuckled in good humor, lifting my glass up as though to say 'What can you do?' "It's a gift." I stated, bringing the drink back down to chug merrily upon it. I finished my third and Oriya refilled both our glasses, this time almost halfway. We was having us a little party. Wonder what the college kids were up to?

Oriya had indulged my curiosity; now it was his turn. "So… what inspired you to so persistently pursue this case, if not for my charming company alone?" I froze up a little, not liking the turn this conversation had suddenly taken. "I noticed that expression on your face when Ichibana said Seki was still alive. You gonna tell me what's going on?"

I smiled wearily and was silent for some time. "…It's a long story."

"I'm all ears." Oriya was not one to be evaded so easily but that's exactly the direction I forced him to take.

"It's a long and _personal _story. I'd need a few more drinks before I'd be ready to spill it."

"Fair enough." He said and we both took hearty gulps of our brandy.

And hour passed and we chatted about other things.

"You don't say?" I asked, taking the bottle off of Oriya and slugging back the brandy. We'd abandoned the glasses some time back, Oriya making use of them for shöchu instead. I'd lost count of how many drinks we'd gone through exactly but it was just enough to make my eyesight that little bit blurrier than it normally was. My mood was charming to say the least.

"You'd be surprised." He said, reclining against the side of the bed and inhaling deeply on his pipe. "I've found aromatic tea often makes my hair more shiny and manageable."

"I'll certainly be looking into it." I stated, running my fingers over the crown of my head. "I have such horrendous problems with split ends."

Oriya looked me over briefly and then shrugged, prying the bottle out of my hand. "It looks fine to me." He chugged it back like a sailor.

I shook a finger in his face. "No, trust me. They're there. Once, I spent the night with this guy I had been seeing for some weeks. We were at his place, getting a little cozy and the minute I took my clothes off, the guy flat out told me he didn't want to go any further because my hair felt like flax and I had… chunky thighs." It was embarrassing to think about that night, even now. Made me wanna get well and stewed.

Oriya snorted disdainfully, passing me the pipe. "I think _that _guy needed contacts."

I took the pipe off of him and drew back the smoke. It filled my lungs with a harsh, grating warmth and just for a change of pace, I exhaled out through my nose, causing my sinuses to burn as a result. The brandy bottle only held a few dregs and Oriya offered it to me but I graciously refused, allowing him to drain what was left. "Ever since then I've had this paranoid obsession about my hair and legs."

"Well the guy was probably nervous about being with another man." Oriya offered, licking the last few drops of liquid from the rim of the bottle. The sexual implications of this act sent a shiver directly down through my loins. "I wouldn't take it personally. Trust me. If anything you could stand to gain a pound or two."

I waved my hand amiably. "You're just being nice. Anyone who has seen me naked can attest to that. Most people are ready to exchange goodbyes the moment I remove my clothing."

"You willing to put that to the test?" He asked, quick as a whip. His voice the very definition of seductive.

I was just tipsy enough by that stage of the conversation that I hardly felt embarrassed by his comments anymore. Instead, I laughed perhaps a little louder than was appropriate in the instance, rolling back on my butt and clutching at my ankles in order to keep from tipping over completely.

"Another drink and I might just take you up on that!" I flouted loutishly, hardly surprised to see Oriya start tipping the shöchu into my long empty glass with overzealous enthusiasm. "No! No!" I laughed, battering his arm away but slinging the drink back, so as not to appear discourteous. "We can't go there, not now! Getting naked with me would only ruin any potential you and I have for a wonderful friendship." It would also rudely awaken Oriya to the harsh reality of how I actually looked naked and I honestly preferred to keep him guessing there. With the right clothing I could actually fool people into thinking that I looked a shiny dollar in the buff, rather than a rusty quarter.

Oriya smiled from behind his trademark wall of smoke. "I must say… it's quite nice having a conversation with someone so easy going. Not having to concern myself with delicate subjects…"

And so he spoke too soon. Our conversation continued on in lighthearted good banter, until we happened to stumble across a more sensitive topic. Before I knew it, I was lying face down on Oriya's bed, crying and carrying on a treat. 

"I'm a useless scientist," Was the first coherent blubber out of my mouth. "I can't invent anything good or do anything right, Tatsumi always gets mad at me for wasting his money, no one loves me as much as they love Tsuzuki, I let him get possessed because I was completely incompetent, I'll never complete my sex-change potion, I'm always gonna be a tag-along and I draw like a pre-schooler!" I wailed in reverence to what was surely a tragedy befitting of the bard in Hamlet.

I glimpsed Oriya's incredulous expression out from the corner of my puffy eyes. "If I'd known you'd react this way, I wouldn't have asked you about your job." He muttered, sloshing a liberal dollop of shöchu back into the depths of his throat. I sat up dramatically, woozing a little from the sudden head spin that assaulted my brain. I'd had too much to drink and now I was paying for it good.

"I'm never gonna make a good guardian!" I ejaculated with sudden, profound emotion. I'd never been jealous of any other Guardians success before, especially not Tsuzuki's. And I'd always fancied myself to be quite an asset to the Summons Section, if not in work ethic then at least in humor value. I had no idea where this random outburst had come from! I was a little frightened of myself!

Oriya extinguished his pipe and tucked it away. I could see from the way his lip was twitching, that he was attempting not to laugh at me. "Aww don't say that…" He at least managed to sound nominally sincere.

"No it's true!" I insisted expressively, jabbing my finger about at god only knows what. "The world's full of winners and losers and I'm a loser! A big fat one with thunder thighs and split ends!" And off I went again.

"Would I have invited you to join me this evening if I thought you were a loser? No." Oriya spoke to me as a parent might address a child that was long overdue for a nap. Goodness knows, I could have probably used one right about then. Probably explains everything.

His words didn't provide a great deal of comfort and I just continued to snuffle pointlessly, face aimed down towards the bed and shoulders quivering a little as evidence of my patheticness.

Oriya took a moments consideration. "I didn't take you for an emotional drunk…" He admitted after observing me in action.

"I'm not!" I snuffled, waving a hand at my face as a means of combating my outburst. "I don't know what this is! I didn't even cry when I found out I was dead! I guess it's just been a long couple of weeks." I felt that one more drink was hardly likely to make the difference, so I reached out for the neck of the shöchu bottle but Oriya beat me to it. He pushed it clear and climbed to his feet, setting himself down on the bed beside me. He pulled me close just as easily as he had moved that bottle across the floor. Effortless, though I was hardly a lightweight.

"Try and calm down." He soothed, bringing his strong arm about my shoulder. Well that sure as Hell wasn't helping things, son! "Take a few deep breaths."

"I'm sorry!" I bawled, burying my face in my hands. If I hadn't been tipsy, no doubt this unlawful display would have left me rightly embarrassed for myself. This was beyond dismal! Why the Hell was I carrying on like this?

"It's all right." He assured me, one of his worn hands running donuts down toward the lower portion of my back. Strangely enough it brought me to mind of an ex-boyfriend who'd enforced the same tactic when comforting me, just as a means of working his way down to my butt. He had liked firm backsides. This guy stuck in my head the most, because he had briefly dated Tsuzuki after breaking up with me. I guess us Guardians of Death like to just keep it in the office. "The investigation must be really upsetting you."

"It's not just that." I said, taking off my glasses and rubbing the heel of my hand into my left eye. The mascara I had used that morning was starting to irritate me, on account of the no good crying. "But… you don't wanna listen to my silly problems."

Oriya grunted in that cranky way that never failed to remind me of an old man. I'm sure he would grow up to be the spitting image of Mr. Konoe, no bones about it. They both possessed that same gruff yet compassionate demeanor. "I bet they're not silly at all." He gave my body an encouraging rock to the side. "I'd be happy to lend an ear. Go on, try me."

This wasn't something I was eager to discuss and I wasn't sure how to best indicate this, without appearing rude. I brought myself unsteadily to my feet, putting my glasses back on and racking my brain for a plausible excuse to annul this possible turn in our conversation.

"I should head off to bed…" I said, rubbing my forehead gingerly with my fingers. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus. "I have a lot of work to do tomorrow…" I felt, rather than saw Oriya stand up behind me. He rested his hands comfortingly on my shoulders and I shrugged them free as gently and graciously as I possibly could. I would only grow weaker in the light of his softness and I wanted to try and be strong now. "Please don't. …You don't have to pretend to care about me. Why, you barely even know who I am and what I have done."

Oriya moved me around to face him and I was momentarily brought to my complete senses by the candid expression worn upon his handsome features. The entire Noh façade had been entirely ripped clear and here he stood before me, the honest sincerity of his core emotions presented to me like open wounds in the hot sun. It made me feel vulnerable and entirely susceptible.

"Why are you closing yourself off to me?" He asked softly, his eyebrows furrowed down in such a true sense of sadness. So open and sore that it made my heart ache by my mere presence before it. "Why won't you talk about what it is that troubles you so? Must you face everything alone?"

I never liked being a hard bastard but I made myself be tough with him. I couldn't let myself be won over so easily, not when there was so much at stake! Besides, kind and intelligent though he was, there were a great many things that he would not be able to understand. Things that I did not want to tell him. Things that I would not tell him.

"I'm not at liberty to share my memories." I said firmly, rapping my hand against the wall of my chest. "They are mine. And they are precious to me. And because of that, you should have the courtesy to respect my silence."

"Of course I respect it." His voice remained calm and centered, though I could see that he was feeling just the slightest bit exasperated by my reluctance to confide in him. The corners of his eyes crinkled, exposing his crows' feet. A sure sign that he was annoyed but not yet to the point of verbally expressing it. "Just as you should respect the fact that I care for you deeply. If you don't wish to speak, that's fine. But please don't be angry with me for wanting to know. For wanting to help."

I never usually drew on my misfortunes in order to make a point but I felt the need to do so then, perhaps because Oriya was pushing me steadily into a corner and I wanted to shock him a little. Give myself a little wiggle room so I could escape from this conversation with my dignity intact.

"I'm used to doing things on my own, Mibu." I growled, my voice holding more than a slight nuance of bitter anger. "I did as a child and for years after Tamiko passed away."

But still he continued to push and I wasn't sure whether to hug him for it, or smash his teeth in with the knuckles of my right fist. God, this man was infuriating sometimes! "But don't you miss having someone around to help you with such trials? Someone of the romantic persuasion? Did you ever marry or engage in a long term relationship following that period with your wife?"

I raised an eyebrow and gave him a curious look. "This sounds suspiciously like a sales pitch. This is really bringing out the pimp in you, isn't it?

He smiled gently, his thumb now stroking a warm circle across my cheek. He had his head cocked to the side as he watched me, as though trying to figure me out.

"The _friend _actually. I'm genuinely interested."

I tried to decipher his expression but the immaculate control he had over it made it near to impossible. He seemed to be sincere…

"Well…" I said, "I never really found anyone I could say that I… _loved _in that way. I've had a few short term, mostly physical relationships. I guess I was hoping to accidentally stumble across the sort of intimacy I'd read about in books. You know… someone to just hold and share all that mooshy stuff with."

I expected Oriya to be amused by this choice of words, at how truly cockney I sounded. But he continued to do everything right. He didn't laugh at me. He didn't pull a face. He didn't drag me into the toilet and drop my head into the bowl for a swirly. He just continued to stroke my cheek in such an unobtrusive and considerate manner. No other man in the world would have allowed me that.

"Maybe you were just with the wrong people." He suggested. I couldn't help but scoff a little. What an understatement! "You said before that you didn't realize you were bisexual until after you and Tamiko were married. It might have taken some time before you could experience a deep relationship with a man. Sex is not the same as making love after all."

"I'm sure I'd have some idea what you are speaking of." I confessed, with a short, soft voice. "If I'd ever felt that way about any man I had been with."

"What do you mean?" He asked, cocking his head to one side. That posture reminded me of Tsuzuki, though the depth of expression in Oriya's face was subjectively more profound than my dear friends ever was. No offense.

"I haven't… had a committed relationship with a guy before." I confessed, wondering even as I expressed myself to him, why it seemed nearly impossible to keep a secret from this man. He was like a childhood confessor, the priest behind the lattice screen that you felt secure in spilling your guts to. "Making love with a man, entails love for the man himself and I don't think I've ever experienced that." I pulled myself free from where Oriya's eyes had kept me rooted for the past couple of minutes and made my leisurely way over to stare out the window. I rested my fingertips on the glass, watching the soothing movements of the plum blossom tree down in the gardens heart. "In fact… I don't know if I've ever experienced that with anyone. Not even Tamiko. To think I've gone through life, having only ever enjoyed sex for the physical implications, rather than the emotional."

I felt him move in close behind me and the warm sensation of his breath upon my ear. "Then why not start tonight?" I jerked my head about to stare up at him, the exhalation of my next breath freezing in the pit of my stomach. "Let me make love to you." He seemed to register my expression and for a moment appeared a little rejected. "You don't want that?"

"Wah?" It was stupid but that was the only sound I was able to produce. My brain was firmly locked in neutral.

Oriya rested his arms around my middle, locking his right hand about his left wrist. This pulled the line of my back in tightly against the wall of his chest. I could feel the heat of his body through the thin layer of my yukata. He rocked me gently. A soothing mechanism to lull me into accepting his offer. "Is there any harm in it, if it will make you feel better?"

I chuckled nervously but at the same moment my undead heart was pounding a million miles an hour. "Do you extend this offer to all your guests?" I joked weakly. He smiled down at me.

"No. Only the cute ones."

Oh Lordy. I could feel myself going red. "Been a while for you too, huh?" I felt it was a reasonably fair deduction.

He didn't bother to deny it. "It's been three long years spent waiting for this night, Mr. Watari. I'll be damned if I'll let your sudden push towards friendship get in the way of how I've been longing for you." My body suddenly remembered to breathe and I jolted a harsh gasp into my lungs as Oriya pressed a kiss against the shell of my ear.

"Oriya… I don't think we should…" Like most men, I didn't exactly concur with the words that were coming out of my mouth. I could already feel my body growing hot.

"Why…? You said yourself there wasn't the issue of trust between us anymore." His arms grew tighter about my middle and he arched his body up against my back. I suppressed what threatened to be a wavering moan as I felt the bare beginnings of his erection press into the curve of my ass. "Do you like this?" He asked, moving against me. I whimpered from between tightly pressed lips as that evocative bulge rubbed a heated patch against my buttocks, sending blood rushing straight to my pelvis. "Do you like feeling my arms around you? My body against yours…"

I turned my head towards him, the sight of his wistful, desire-corrupted expression weakening my resolve even further. I had never before encountered a person who I sincerely found to be as irresistible as he was to me. "I…" I had no idea what to say, or whether I still contained the urge to protest what was happening. My fingers were clearly acting on the authority of a less practical part of my mind because they began to move up and down the line of Oriya's strong arms, curling back to caress the skin with my still torn nails.

Oriya groaned softly, bringing his lips down to the back of my neck, causing the delicate hairs to bristle at the sensation. "Because _I _like it. I like holding you this way. It feels… _right_." He used his calloused hand to brush aside the loose stands of hair that covered the side of my neck, clearing a path for his lips to softly kiss the nape.

"Mr. Mibu…" I moaned, realizing I was fighting a losing battle even as I said it.

His arms cinched about me so tightly that it constricted my lungs almost painfully. "Stop with that already. You didn't even call me that when first we met."

I pushed against his grip, managing to loosen it somewhat but only at his own acquiescence. Despite my advanced strength, he was even stronger. "O-Oriya I…"

His lips were at my ear again. "_Shh… _just relax. Just… focus on the feeling for a moment. Can you do that?"

" … I… uh…" It was impossible to utter a constructive word in such a situation. I mean, what was I supposed to say once he had already gotten started? I could feel my knees caving a little, bending in towards the glass of the window; my body kept in perfect alignment only by Oriya's strong arms. He started to break down my remaining defenses and flimsily constructed as they were, it didn't take long for them to collapse beneath his seductive onslaught. He peppered kisses along my neck, like slow, sensual machine gun fire, whilst his fingers gently drew the halves of my yukata apart, exposing the flesh of my chest. I moaned a little, tilting my head back as the yukata slipped down to my waist, exposing my shoulders, chest and back to the hot night air. The only factors keeping the material sanctioned to my body were the sleeves hanging in the crooks of my elbows and the thin waif of material tied about my waist. Oriya was content to ignore this for the time being and alternatively turned his attention to my shoulder blades, gently tracing patterns across my chest with his hands as his tongue outlined the bone and muscle structure of my upper back. I was forced to brace one hand against the window, no longer having Oriya's support to keep me upright. The sensations were so sublimely erotic and at the same time, they were sensitive and… thoughtful. No one had ever cared for my needs like this… not one of my previous partners had ever taken the time to stimulate my body in a fashion I had only ever considered to be feasible in one of those dippy dime store shelf romance novels.

But then again, Oriya was no normal man. He was cunning and clever. He was profoundly adept at getting what he desired from people by any means. I had seen him at work with the politicians in Kokakuro and I understood him to be manipulative but this… I felt there to be something genuine in this, even if I realized all too well that Oriya was perhaps not the most sincere of men around. And shouldn't I have been flattered to know that he would enact any and every means to acquire me? I mean, I wasn't the most handsome of guys. I wasn't ugly by any stretch of the imagination but I wasn't striking either. Not like Tsuzuki, or Oriya or even, god forbid Muraki. I was a nice normal sort of attractive, my smile being my most appealing asset. Under normal circumstances, it should have been _me _going to each and every extreme to try and pry Oriya out of his clothing not the other way around! This kind of treatment was a bit surreal… I wasn't used to it.

Not to say that I didn't _like _it of course. But I'm sure most people would be thrown if they suddenly found themselves being seduced by someone who was maybe four or five times better looking than they were, half their age, (Yeah, technically I was old enough to have dated Oriya's parents in high school) ten times richer and five or six steps up from them in the social hierarchy.

This had been one odd mission from the get go and it seemed to progressively get stranger the deeper we went.

I was jerked from my thoughts by the sublime feeling of Oriya's wet, slender tongue gliding up the line of my spine. A shiver went shooting down to meet it, and then blew right on by to coil into a knot of pleasure right at the base of my tailbone. "Oh… _God…_" I moaned, fisting my fingers against the glass, noticing the wet patches that the pads of my fingers had left behind. This was hardly two or three tiptoes into foreplay and I had already been brought to a sweat! … Well, it was a hot night. I had to take that into consideration.

I felt Oriya's straight teeth dig into the flesh of my deltoid. It was a small bite but it made my crotch ache in anticipation. "Tell me how it feels… where to linger… what you want…"

I couldn't let myself get involved again. The mission… Enma's orders! I could lose my station as a Guardian of Death! I might even be fired and sent onto the next stage… whatever the Hell that might be! Jesus… what if it _was _Hell? Oh damn, that would be ironic. Sent to the hottest place in existence for _doing _the hottest man in existence! … Still, I suppose that there are worse things to go to Hell for, right? … No, that was just stupid.

"I can't-" My sentence thrust itself upward into a deep groan as Oriya traced my shoulder blades with his tongue, kissing a trail up to my shoulder and into the little crook of his collarbone. "Ah yeah… just there…"

Ladies and gentleman, my name is Yutaka Watari and I'm a sexaholic. I lost my job to sex, went to Hell for sex and burned for eternity. For sex. But if you had seen the guy I'm sure you would agree with me that the loss of my eyebrows and additional body hair was well worth the sacrifice.

I braced the entire palm of my hand against the window, shutting my eyes tightly and reducing my entire vocabulary to an animalistic series of huffing and grunts as Oriya circled one of my nipples with his fingernail, causing the little bud to go rock hard beneath his ministrations. The tightening sensation sent a miniature pulse of electricity down into my loins and I internally begged him to pinch the bud between his nails. To my surprise and delight, he did just that, twirling the nipple between his perfectly rounded fingernails, pinching slightly to stimulate the nerves and then pulling back to tug the bud just enough to reduce me to a panting quivering mess. He seemed to be able to tell exactly what it was that I desired, so I arched my back encouraging him toward it and sure enough he started to kiss down the nubs of my spine, pausing when he reached my waist, where the yukata sat in bunched folds about my hips. I lifted my chest, curving my spine even further.

"Please… Oriya…"

"Please what?" He enjoyed teasing me.

"Just there… the small of my back…" Oriya kissed the aforementioned spot lightly, flicking his tongue out to wet a patch of my skin, then blowing on it gently. I growled, the sound reverberating from deep in my throat, entirely overcome by the unbelievable sensation that this meager act caused me. "Yes!"

Oriya pushed his lips down beneath the yukata folds and kissed my prominent hipbone, alternating between sucking the arched flesh and slurping his tongue about the dips and hallows it created in my skin. His hands meanwhile started to stroke up and down over my back. He dragged his nails against my skin; sending panting gasps flinging out of my mouth uninhibited. The skin burnt and tingled where he scratched me and I cried out internally for him to repeat this act until I could no longer ache for it.

"This feels… different… Better… _Oh God, that feels good…_" I groaned as Oriya kissed his way back up to my neck. He suckled on the pulse for a moment, and then raised his lips to sit directly on top of the opening of my ear. His hot breath seemed set to filter right on down into my very brain.

"Are you sure you won't reconsider… _friend?_"

"Oriya…" He made it easy for me, trailing kisses down to my jaw line and I surrendered to the inevitable. I hadn't the willpower or the desire to resist him any longer. I turned my face towards him, parting my lips invitingly and running my tongue quickly over the dry columns to wet them. Once I was sure they weren't about to tear the flesh from his own mouth, I tilted my chin up just high enough for Oriya to meet me in a sensual kiss.

We were conspirators in the act now and there was no going back after this. Lord help me, I could burn in Hell.

Was this of any concern to me at the time? No sir. None whatsoever.

I turned about in Oriya's hold and slung my arms up around his neck, sinking against him with a moan. His tongue slid across my lips and I welcomed it back within my mouth like an old friend, tasting the liquor and smoke I'm sure he received back from me. I loved the feeling of the strong, probing muscle lapping inside my lips and I brought the tip of my own tongue up to run along the vein line underneath it. Oriya got his hand down my back and tugged the tie out of my hair, shifting his fingers into the braid in order to separate the tresses. My hair tumbled down my back, now returned to its somewhat kinkier state by the setting of the braid and Oriya buried his hands in it, gently licking at my upper lip with his tongue. He pressed me up against the window and I shifted my waist against his, causing us both to moan in time at the friction our hastily stiffening erections caused when meeting. There wasn't a great deal of resistance between the yukata material and what was there only served to highlight the sensation as the fabric rubbed against my swelling penis.

Oriya didn't waste any more time. Before I could so much as ask 'How's your father?' his hand was making sort work of the only thing keeping my yukata around my body. I grabbed his wrist to slow him down, wanting to give myself a moment to think about what was going to happen. It was difficult as I'm sure I've already mentioned. My brain was still swirling about in a hazy alcohol induced cloud.

"Oriya… please…" I whispered, wrapping one arm about my midsection to grasp a hold of the already slouching material. It had sunk so low during our embrace that my pubic hair was already visible above the yukata lining. "You might not like what you see." The idea that Oriya might reject my body as my ex-boyfriend had done so many years ago was just devastating to me. Oriya smiled as though sensing my thoughts and leaned his face in close in order to nudge my nose with his own.

"I saw it last night and there was certainly nothing wrong with it then. Besides… how will I know unless I take a peek?" He kissed me softly and chaste, using this as a distraction to remove the yukata completely. The warm night air enveloped my body like thousands of warm fingers, the beautiful material collapsing in a crumpled pile around my feet. I lowered my gaze and focused on this as Oriya's eyes panned up and down the length of my body, silent in his assessment of me.

"So you _are _a natural blond." He said finally.

I sighed, figuring from the tone of his voice that he _was _disappointed and wasn't entirely sure how to express it. "See… what did I tell you?"

"Not enough." He met my eyes and there was compassion and desire equally evident in his handsome features. "You have a wonderful body, Yutaka." He glanced down the line of my abdomen again and cocked his head to the side when he came across what I knew he was bound to notice sooner or later. "Is that a… tattoo?" He seemed suddenly distracted, bringing his fingers up to brush over the small tattoo of an owl I'd had done on my left thigh when I was twenty-four.

"Sure is." I confirmed, reaching down past Oriya's admiring fingers to bestow a gentle slap to the brown and yellow caricature. I immediately wished I hadn't because it made my thigh wobble in a most unappealing way. "Someone who means a great deal to me… her favorite animal was an owl, same as me. This old girls a little more stretched than she used to be though… that's the joy of getting old."

Oriya chuckled as he knelt before me, bringing his lips down against the flesh of my thigh. I held my breath without meaning to as he started to kiss and suck the tattoo, alternating his attention equally between each thigh. I pressed myself back against the window, supporting my weight with the palms of my hands. It was a hot night and I was becoming exceedingly more aroused by Oriya's actions. It didn't take long for sweaty palm syndrome to set in and my fingers lost their grip as condensation beaded across the glass, sending my hand sliding about as I struggled to maintain my hold.

"Mmmm…" Oriya's purr was deep and raspy. It made me want to skip the foreplay completely and just get him up inside of me lickity-split. But as I later learnt, Oriya was never one to rush right to the act. On this occasion, it was his first real intimacy in three years and he aimed to enjoy every miniscule moment of it. He trailed his tongue along the lines of my loins, causing me to reflexively twitch and moan out loud. "Oh… you make some fabulous noises. I love to hear that voice of yours pitch and awn." He lazily kissed a path back up to my lips and pinched the arms of my glasses between his fingers. "You'll still be able to see me without these, right?"

"R-right…" I stuttered, pressing my chaffed lips together tightly as Oriya removed the glasses and set them on the closest available ledge. "Listen um… do you think you could, y'know… hit the lights?"

Oriya raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged apologetically.

"Sorry! I just like doing this in the dark better. You can see fine in the dark with your senses, eh?"

"Sure. But it'll be harder for you." Oriya said, stepping over towards the light switch and laying his fingertip along the slope of it. "You okay with that?"

I nodded, crossing my ankles one over the other, feeling even more exposed to him now that he had stepped clear across the room. He sure as Hell noticed this too because he was looking me up and down, as though he had to memorize the size and shape of each body part before the lights went out and it became just that little bit harder to do so. But he adhered to my request and switched the light off, encasing us in almost complete darkness. The moon was mostly full, so a blue light shone in through the window, bathing me in an ethereal glow. It felt a little magical and I think we both got swept up in that. Oriya dove in against me and I cupped his face good and hard, drawing him close for another kiss. I had to reach up to meet him, though I wasn't so short myself. (I was actually taller than Tsuzuki, though not many people knew this) I delved my hands into Oriya's dark head of hair, drawing it around my fingers and twisting it between my grasp until I had reduced it to series of complicated knots. We parted just long enough for him to set his mouth against my neck. I shivered at the feel of his lips there and he obviously felt it through his ability because he didn't proceed without permission.

"Can I?" He asked sweetly and with a moments hesitation, I hushed a whispered yes, whimpering with soft gratification as he peppered his hot, wet mouth up and down the line of my neck and chin, taking his time to express his affection for me, rather than making it entirely sexual. His fingers tenderly stroked my Adam's apple, moving up and around to touch the space of my neck just below my ear then suggestively curling downward to caress my throat. I must have been in love. Normally I would have freaked if anyone else had tried to touch my neck in this manner.

"Yutaka, you know if there's anything you want… you just tell me and I'd be more than happy to indulge you." Oriya whispered, bringing his bottom lip open wide enough to succulently cup my pulse. His tongue flicked out and caressed the spot, sending my mind cartwheeling into the throes of ecstasy. I was charmed and touched that he would make such an offer to me. Most men, (myself included) are entirely concerned with their own immediate sexual gratification. So much so that the needs and wants of the other partner came second, if that. It was so refreshing to think that Oriya was separate from this norm. That he was so gentle and patient in his ministrations and his focus was entirely on me. I'd barely touched him with evocative concern once and yet he'd had no complaints! He wanted to know if there was more that _he_ could doand he seemed entirely content in making _me_ the center of attention.

He was just so good. I felt at the very least I should offer him one last chance to pull out of this.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked, groaning softly and curling my leg up as he locked onto a particularly juicy spot beside my jugular I never knew existed. "I mean… you could do so much better than me…"

He didn't berate me with anger this time but proved me wrong with the evidence of his passion instead. He tugged me tightly against him, hands trailing down my back and inoffensively pushing my groin up against his. He was very hard now. You would never know how aroused he was just by looking at his face but by all rights he should have been panting to stick it to me. If you'll excuse the phrase.

"Don't put yourself down, Yutaka. You have me. I want you. There's no place I would rather be right now." He cupped my face and looked down at me with sincere adulation. "You truly have no idea how striking you can be, do you? Hair free, glasses gone, skin shining in the moonlight…" I blushed, despite myself. "I want to satisfy myself in you and see you satisfied by me. Tell me what you want…" He whispered into my ear, bringing his finger under my chin and lifting it just high enough to kiss the shadowed veil beneath. "… let me make you happy…"

My voice trembled as I spoke my request. "Just… say my name."

He looked at me quizzically.

"I've never been with anyone who would say my name with sincerity in bed." I explained, stroking his wrist with my fingers, wishing that he would hurry up and get naked too. I hadn't gotten a good look at him the night before. "That's all I ever wanted from any of them… for someone to say my name. And mean it."

Oriya was silent for a moment but then he gently leant forward and kissed the tip of my nose. "I want you to relax, Yutaka." My breathing sharpened considerably as he trailed his hand down, steering around my throbbing hard on, darting between my pubic hair before nestling comfortably beneath the curves of my thighs. He turned his hand sideways and separated his fingers, encouraging my legs to part. "Spread your legs for me… nice and gently. That's it."

I followed his lead, moving my heels apart in order to bring my legs out to a wider stance. "You don't have to treat me like a virgin, you know." I grumbled, slightly annoyed. "I have done this before."

Oriya smiled, flicking his finger along the curve of my cheek. "You don't like being treated gently?"

"Just a little… unexpected." I admitted, biting my lip as the hand between my legs suddenly darted up along the line of my cock, squeezing it with just enough strength to make the stimulation entirely pleasurable, not the least bit… well, cauliflower crouch, if I have to put it any particular way. Oriya's smile didn't fade as he moved his hand up and down the length of my erection, slowing down once he had reduced me to a shivering whiny mess. Then, he just swirled his thumb at the very tip, pressing his chest up against my own and leaning down to push his triumphant expression right against my own pitiable, sweating face.

"Don't expect from me what you have received from others." He hushed, kissing me softly. I thought I would faint when he took his hand off of me, only to bring his body down to the floor before me on bended knees. Knowing what was coming next and knowing it would be this man doing it… it was a miracle I didn't shoot my load into his face at that very moment. The thought itself was erotic enough to bring me to completion without the act itself. "I treat my lovers as though I am the first to ever take them."

I had to bring my attention away; just long enough to calm myself down at least a little. I glanced behind myself nervously, wondering just how this might appear if anybody happened to go trotting by. "I'm a bit uncomfortable having my bottom pressed against the window like this." It must have looked great from the other side of the glass.

"It won't cave in, if that's what you're worried about." Oriya chuckled, from somewhere around the region of my groin.

"That's most certainly not it." I snapped, offended that this was the first thought that jumped to his mind. My butt wasn't _that _hefty was it? "What if someone happens to walk by? I don't think I want my pale derrière on display."

Oriya traced his hands down around to my waist and dipped them behind my hips in order to catch my buttocks in each hand. He squeezed them, eliciting another mewl of pleasure from me. God damn, why couldn't we just get this show on the road? Some of us didn't have his stamina. Or patience for that matter.

"Trust me honey… you have nothing to worry about." He said, digging his nails into the cleft, drawing them back and forth to heighten the muscle tension. I felt my erection twitch, every time he adjusted those sweet fingers. "It's soft… yet ample…"

"That's from sitting in front of a computer all day…" I said, unsure of this even as I said it. Sitting in front of the computer made it soft, that's for sure. About the only thing keeping it from sloughing entirely was my regular visits to the pool.

Oriya slid up my body like a serpent and used the hands on my hind to pull me close. "Well, it seems to have paid off." He sounded off by delivering a firm smack to my buttocks and I moaned before I was able to help myself. He _spanked _me. Dear God, I think it was the most glorious thing I had ever felt! My erection grew to its' full capacity and pressed upward into Oriya's stomach, drawing his attention down towards it. "Oh my… don't tell me the guardian of death has a masochism fetish?"

He gave me a little pet along the throbbing length and I panted for the shear want of him. "Shit… you could give me a fetish for anything…"

Oriya grinned with a full ferocious urge and the next thing I knew, he had pushed me hard up against the window, pinning my hands high above my head. He kissed me forcefully, our tongues lapping at one another's mouths before without warning, he went sliding back down my body and sucked my sex deep into his throat with one controlled swallow. I mewled stridently, hands still pinned back above my head, palms braced against the glass.I couldn't believe my luck. To think such a beautiful man would go down on me… And he was so damn good too. I wasn't a small man in the pants arena, nor was I overtly large. On a scale out of 10, I was like a seven, which sat just fine with me thankyou very much. Meaning to say, that it shouldn't have ordinarily been easy for anyone to fit my entire erect length down his or her throat and if Oriya had been telling me the honest truth, it was three years since he had done anything like this. And here he was, whipping it out like a natural! I felt a strand of drool start to slide out from the corner of my mouth and I reached down to wipe it away. The head of my cock was pressed into the constriction of Oriya's throat and he didn't gag once, just sucking and swallowing here and there, giving me the most intense physical pleasure I had most certainly ever felt. The sensation itself was the majority of this feeling but looking down along the line of my body and seeing myself buried completely in the mouth of a man beautiful enough to bring the entire male modeling industry to its knees, was nothing short of unbelievable. This scenario was beyond my wildest dreams. Who would have ever thought that I could be so lucky?

Oriya seemed to be handling himself just fine, so I finally relaxed my self-restraints and started rolling my lips languidly against his face, moaning his name the whole while. It felt so damn good; I didn't want it to end. Well… yes and no. I wanted him inside of me, more than ever but to have his mouth wrapped around me like this… not even his pipe got to be this close.Just as I found myself teetering on the brink of obliteration, I felt the warm constriction of Oriya's throat slide free from the head of my penis and with a wet popping sound, he plucked his mouth free of my now shining staff. A strand of sticky saliva snapped free from the tip of my erection, slapping along the curve of his chin, streaking a line down from the corner of his mouth. I wish I had a picture of how he looked at precisely that moment. It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

"No… _please_…" I whined, wondering if my legs would be able to hold me much longer. Oriya was panting for breath. He'd apparently forgotten to breathe through his nose whilst he'd been attending to my manly needs. It took a minute for him to pull himself together but I gathered what he was getting at by the circular twirling of his finger.

"Turn around…" He finally managed to gasp.

I was confused but did as I was told, bracing both my arms against the window whilst Oriya disappeared across the room. I heard him open a drawer and rustle around inside for a moment, then a sharp curse as he slammed the door shut. I risked a glance over my shoulder.

"Babe, what's wrong?" I asked as he traipsed into the bathroom, not even bothering to switch on the light before diving headlong into the medicine cabinet.

"Just looking for… here." He trotted back into view, looking a wee bit embarrassed as he held up a small tub of Vaseline for my inspection. "Sorry. I used to have nice oils around here… better stuff than this. It's just been some time… is it okay if I use this?"

I laughed gently at the expression of guilt on his face. "Honey, I've had worse than Vaseline rubbed inside of me. Don't you worry about that." To be accurate, when that man had kept Reiku and I prisoner for a fortnight, he had once oiled my testicles and anus with an ointment called Deep Heat, used to treat deep muscle pains. The application burnt like Hell and left me squirming and writhing with pain from the stabbing heat and stinging sensation assaulting my sensitive canals. If that hadn't been enough, he'd perched me in front of a heater, so that the burns became almost intolerable. But I didn't feel the need to share that with Oriya. Not then. You know now. No point getting worked up about it, what's done is done.

Moving along.

A moment later, I felt Oriya brace one hand against my hip. His fingers were so strong and gentle… I felt safe with him, comforted and clean, even doing this act that has been condemned from the Church to the streets.

"Spread your legs, Yutaka."

I complied, wondering why I was trembling as I did. I couldn't wait to feel his fingers inside of me.

Oriya rested his head on my shoulder. "Relax…" He breathed and I gasped a little as I felt the tip of his finger press up against my rigid hole. I relaxed my abdomen, pushing down so that it opened just enough for him to slide his finger in. It was thick and rigid, though generously lubricated by the Vaseline. It didn't hurt a jot. Oriya's 'disability' would have allowed him to sense when and if he afforded me any pain and he avoided this diligently. I moaned loudly, orally crediting his ability. He moved the finger in and out charitably, eliciting a further pitching groan from my body as the second and then third fingers were inserted. I could only imagine what it would be like once his cock was inside of me, if his fingers felt this good. He must have known exactly how to position his invading digits because it only took one or two scissoring movements for him to start massaging my prostate. That little bud of nerve endings sent my brain on fire and I squirmed against the window, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as he assaulted that same place, over and over again, until I was crazy for completion. Oriya brought his spare hand down to rub my buttocks, keeping them separated by pushing the muscle to the side.

"Oriya! _Oh!_" I wasn't sure how much longer I could take this but at long last, he seemed to conclude that I had been stretched to his satisfaction. His languorous procedure complete, Oriya finally removed his fingers, leaving me empty and longing to be filled but to my dismay, he didn't undress himself. Instead, I heard him lower himself back down onto his knees. I felt him pressing my buttocks apart with each thumb as though to admire the work he had done on my swollen entrance before submitting partway to his impatient desire and pressing his face directly into the clavicle, driving his tongue down through the tight, stinging ring muscle and back within my still recovering burrow. A foreign feeling came upon me. This wet, hot sensation oiled my sensitive place and my face flushed furiously when I realized that he had slipped his tongue deep inside of me. I shrieked loudly, my hands sliding across the glass as I surrendered what tattered fragments remained of my self-control. The wet, pink flesh probed with an accuracy his fingers would never possess and he was now sampling me in that slightly obscure fashion that was as arousing in speculation as it was in action.

I felt my muscles involuntarily contract around Oriya's tongue and he clasped his long fingers about my thighs, stroking gently in an attempt to encourage me to relax. I'd only ever had this done to me once before and I'm not afraid to admit that I found I rather enjoyed the sensation of rimming. I was so excited however that I unintentionally tensed up, which hindered rather than encouraged Oriya's progress. Eventually, his massages helped me to unwind and my opening widened considerable, awarding the samurai ample room in which to work. Oriya dipped his tongue in as far as it would go, keeping it soft and supple, unlike so many who seemed to think that a pointy dagger tongue was a turn on. It generally wasn't, especially if the rectum was already sore from forceful penetration. Gently, Oriya lifted his tongue along the red raw passageways, wetting the sensitive skin more so that it was already. I was groaning loudly, my fingernails scratching down the glass and my eyes pinched shut.

The feeling of the small wet muscle within me, felt something like gentle penile penetration, only with freer movement and the velvety hot moisture of which attended it. It was one of my favorite indulgences and Oriya seemed so skilled in the act… most of my previous lovers refused point blank to do it at all! Which was fine, everyone was justified to decide what they were comfortable doing or not doing in bed and having it sprung on me now after so long was just _divine._

"Oh Oriya…" I moaned, as the samurai slowly drew his tongue in and out in a gentle serenade.

The slick heat went away for a moment as Oriya paused to consider his findings. "Yes… this is most definitely what is right for you…" He drawled, thumbing at my wet opening. I panted, digging my nails into my folded arms until crescent moons were cut into my skin. Small streaks of blood curved down to drip from my elbows and splatter against the floor.

"Oriya… I want more… God please… more…" I was pleading with him but that didn't matter. Only continuing that otherworldly sensation… nothing was more important than his lips, his mouth, his tongue… He obliged with a quiet sort of contentment and once that slippery wet muscle entered me again, the excitement grew to the overwhelming degree that the scales of my stamina tilted one level too far to the side. I felt my cock twitch and my knees cinch in towards one another as lines of cum began to squirt across the windowpane. Oriya paused and I felt his hand sneak around the line of my body to gently caress the end of my slick penis.

"Oriya that's enough… your windows…" I whispered, starting to feel a little bad that I was making a mess.

"Screw the damn windows." Came Oriya's rough voice and then he penetrated me deep with his tongue and continued to lap at my entrance, pushing me flying into orgasm.

"ORIYA!!" I didn't even concern myself with how loud I was screaming, the pleasure that came from my completion providing too great a distraction. My remaining strength evaporated and my legs actually buckled beneath my weight. I almost collapsed but Oriya caught me around the waist, climbing back onto his feet and using one hand to gently rub the base of my softening penis, working his way up to the very tip as though milking me of as much cum as possible.

"Hmmm…" He murmured and I watched with tired embarrassment as he licked my semen off of his fingers and sighed deeply as though approving the palette. "You taste as sweet as I thought you would…"

I panted, unable to articulate myself further. Oriya smiled understandingly, setting his sticky fingers down on my shoulder.

"Turn around, darlin'." He gently moved my shoulders square until we were facing one another. It seemed that the moment was finally here. Oriya took a step back from me, reaching down to untie his obi as seductively as possible. I held myself up, hands holding onto the part of the window that I hadn't made a mess of, watching with hungry eyes as he slowly slid free of his yukata, revealing a lean, hard muscled body. Good God… I haven't seen anything so perfect… what a body. All that muscle, lined and etched by white and red scars… it was sexy beyond measure. His legs were long and toned and powerful, his arms sculptured like I had only ever seen in male underwear commercials. His dark brown hair cascaded over the muscular lining of his chest, down his back, strands flecking over his eyes here and there. His copper colored nipples were firm. And as for the lower portion of his magnificent body…

Oh my.

Remember how I said that on a scale of one to ten that I was like a seven? Well Oriya was like a… twelve. He was well in proportion with the rest of his large body. His erect penis was thick, large, and jutting high. I had honestly never seen bigger and I'm not just saying that because I'm more than a little fond of you, Oriya dear. I felt a momentary flux of concern, staring down at that solid mast projecting out from the curls of his dark brown pubic hair. He was going to snap me in half with that thing!

I stomped that fear down firmly, reassuring myself that Oriya's size was only likely to increase the pleasure I would feel once the initial sting had passed. I slid closer and braced my hands in the center of Oriya's back, feeling the center of his spine, where it was broken all those years before. I brought my lips to his chest, wanting to repay him in kind for his very generous actions just before. Ever so slowly, I began to rotate my groin against his, trying to rekindle my now limp erection. I was feeling sleepy as a direct result of my orgasm but seeing Oriya's naked body had driven fresh excitement through me and I was eager for more, now that I had seen first hand what was in store for me. I found a scar on Oriya's back and traced it all the way down to his buttocks. Goddamn, it was entirely muscle down there. Just two tight little orbs, no distinguishable fat whatsoever. I dug my nails into the firm flesh, eliciting a loud moan from my soon to be lover.

"You're quite something… you know?" Oriya groaned, head tilted back.

" … so are you…" I whispered up into his ear. Oriya took my hands between his and placed them on his chest.

"Look um…" He trailed off, looking intensely aware of himself. "I don't have any condoms in here. It's been too long since my last time… but I can go right now and get one off of the girls? I'm not sure how this works between humans and Guardians but I assume you'd prefer that I wore protection, right?"

What a dear he was for thinking of this at the last minute. Anyone else would have just hoisted the sails and shoved on forward without a care in the world but here he was actually taking the time to concern himself with safe sex. It was extraordinarily charming.

Unless of course he was asking because he assumed I was riddled with venereal diseases.

I placed my hand against his cheek, shiny with sweat. "It's sweet that you would even bother to ask. Guardians of Death can catch and distribute minor STI's such as crabs or genital warts but nothing bigger than that. I'm pretty sure I'm clean." I would have been positive if I hadn't of bedded that filthy old letch before I came to Kyoto but I'm certain I would have noticed if I'd picked anything up. "It's up to you, Oriya."

"Do you trust me?" He asked. I nodded, without a moment's hesitation.

"Unequivocally."

"Then I trust you." He clasped my hands between his own and sensually trailed the pads of my fingers down to his loins and I panted with mad fervor as he drew me ever closer to that delicious pulsing rod between his legs. I made to touch him, my groin aching in sweet anticipation but Oriya restrained me at the last second. Honestly, the man has the sexual self-discipline of the Archbishop! He twisted my hand over so that my palm was right side up and then retrieved the Vaseline he'd previously used to oil me.

"If you choose to continue this, I want you to be comfortable." He whispered breathlessly, setting the small tub down into the palm of my hand.

I nodded, feeling a certifiable knot of lust cascade through my groin, causing my expired erection to sit up and take notice of what was going on again. I unscrewed the lid of the Vaseline, scooping out a suitable lump of the white petroleum jelly and once I had distributed it evenly between the palms of each hand, I proceeded to lube up Oriya's hard member. He was so big that it was almost necessary to use both hands and I loved the feeling of that hot solid flesh palpitating between my fingers. Giving back some of what I had already received, I gripped the shaft of his erection hard, running the pads of my thumbs up underneath, squeezing the swollen head between them when I reached the end. Pre-cum dripped liberally from the tip and I almost considered sinking to my knees and lapping the milky drops away but Oriya thoroughly distracted me from enacting any such measure by grasping my taut scrotum in the cup of his fist, without so much as a word of warning. He gave me a thrusting squeeze before trailing his long, adept fingers back and set to work, rubbing my perineum, trying generously to coax my erection back to life. My body proved to be no flake and I felt my once retired penis respond to the corporeal ministrations almost immediately. Not wanting to leave him hanging out to dry, so to speak, I returned to my previous task of preparing Oriya's thick shaft for entry. I did a good job of it because I knew it would hurt like Hell if I didn't. I felt a weary sense of relief as I fondled his length, relief that his erection was already as big and thick as it was going to get. Any larger and nothing short of radical plastic surgery would have been able to realign my hips.

"Yutaka…" Oriya moaned my name softly as he pushed a series of shallow dips between the palms of my hands. I was standing so close to him that the head of his erection actually jabbed my thigh as it erupted out of my hold. I guess he was ready then.

I took my hands away, to establish that my good work was done and Oriya wasted no time in pushing me back against the window, squashing my butt into the drying semen stains I had previously left upon the glass. I bit my lip, trying my hardest to ignore the uncomfortable sticky mess and concentrate on Oriya's skilled ministrations instead. It wasn't particularly difficult. He moved against me, sifting a hearty moan from the depths of my throat and weaved his fingers into my hair, kissing me so softly that I was surprised his libido allowed for the gentility it.

"Are you ready for me?" He whispered, his throaty voice laden with lust.

"_Yes_. Baby, _yes._" I murmured, wishing that my voice sounded nearly as sexy as his did. My body trembled from my vocal cords to the tips of my toes, which were liberally curling off of the floor at the amenable prospect of what was about to happen; sex with the most beautiful man I had ever set eyes on.

I was nervous, so I smiled, putting up my happy little shield in order to combat my mounting anxiety. I knew it was going to hurt; I hadn't lied to Tsuzuki about this facet of anal sex. It could be brilliant, sexy and in some cases inexpressibly mind-blowing but that was only if you were able to overcome the severe coital pain. Sometimes you couldn't. I'd had occasions where it didn't matter how much I was stretched before the commencement of the act, the sex simply did not progress beyond the state of severe discomfort. I prayed to all that was Holy that this would not be the case with Oriya. The very idea of telling him to 'stop' made me want to weep and scalp myself.

I would have rather scalped myself than face that possible scenario.

Oriya bent his lips to my ear, momentarily abating my severe case of pre-coital jitters as he distributed a cheeky nip to the tender lobe. "Put your leg around me."

Ah, so this was the game we were going to play, was it? Having sex standing up wasn't necessarily my cup of cocoa (unless it was in the shower) but that was most likely due to the fact that my knees grew notoriously weak whilst making love and if my partner hadn't been quick enough, or strong enough, to grab a firm hold of me, we'd usually end up on the floor, sore in all the wrong places. Nevertheless, I trusted that Oriya, studly hunk of meat that he was, would be more competent in this arena than any of previous partners. Praying I wasn't wrong about this, I lifted my leg up and slid it around Oriya's lovely waist, angling my ankle down in order to drape my foot over the curve of his bottom. Oriya braced his arm under my thigh and firmly clutched my buttock to hold me in place. Bless him, the dear. That leg would have slammed heel first into the floor after five minutes without him holding it steady. Still, I must confess that I felt a little strange being positioned as such. I was balancing on one leg, with only Oriya and the window to support me. God help us if there was an earthquake. One good five pointer and both our asses would be in the koi pond!

"Ori… I don't want my ass on display." Thinking again of the poor nameless sap that may or may not wander past at any given moment and catch a glimpse of things I'm certain they could live a long happy life without ever encountering.

"There's no one out there, Yutaka." Oriya groaned, his thoughts justifiably distracted right at that moment. Eager though I was to continue my wayward plunder into the depths of salacious delights, I wasn't able to comfortably lay this concern to rest. It gnawed at the corners of my mind like a nervous parasite, grinding its' molars as a means to eliminate tension.

"But what if one of your gals decides to go on an evening walk or something?" I argued, glancing over my shoulder towards the dark yard below. Oriya smirked impishly, clearly amused by my fretful expression.

"It's not so peculiar to glance up at night and encounter the moon is it?"

My face lit up like a Tiki torch. "Oriya!" Such a fitfully unabashed statement was unexpected of this reposed gentleman, to the degree that I reposed momentarily in the wake of its' conception. A jocular remark like this was something _I _would have normally came up with, which should suggest the immaturity of it.

Oriya chuckled sensually as he heeded my insecurities and wedged his spare hand between my butt and the window. The sticky webs of cum didn't appear to bother him as much as they did me, for he voiced no complaint concerning it. Additionally, this shielding tactic had provided some ample cushioning for my rump, so I was pleased as punch. "There. Now I want you to relax."

I inhaled sharply as his middle and index fingers brushed over the little pucker, still wet and oily from his luxuriously decadent ministrations. It bunched a little, reacting to his touch by shrinking back in upon itself and I persuaded my mind to sway in the opposite direction to the path my body deigned to follow. I didn't allow myself time to think about it, lest I lose my nerve. "Just do it, Oriya. I want you…" I cooed, in a hushed susurration so laden with lust that it didn't even sound like me. It must have been the tone of my voice that tipped the scales because Oriya's self-control finally faltered and with a throaty groan, he slid his glistening body up against mine, drawing me up the glass of the window and bowing his pelvis just enough to bring his penis up underneath the backs of my thighs and in between the lower curves of my ass. I felt him there, bearing down against my ingress and his teeth scraping the side of my neck like a desire demented vampire, intent on driving his fangs deep into the conduits of my arteries the second he came inside of me. I sucked a deep breath in, mentally and physically preparing myself for what was about to happen. My abdomen contorted, I clasped the muscles of his back with my nails in order to anchor myself down and relaxed my pelvis floor as dramatically as I could. I prepared myself for him.

"Get in there." I hissed.

Oriya gathered himself and though I was ready for it, nothing could have prepared me for the enormity of that sensation that ripped through my abdominal cavities as he drove that long hard organ ruthlessly inside of my puckered slit with one pitiless thrust, penetrating as deep as he was able. I made a peculiar sort of noise; like a gasping scream, pilfering outward through the forced ejaculation of air from my lungs. It was as though there wasn't enough room in my body for both Oriya and oxygen to coexist. He pushed me up on the tips of my toes, buried inside of my warm orifice to the hilt. I bit my lip, sinking my forehead against his shoulder and writhed a little, trying desperately to be sweet and tolerate the pain but it was plenty difficult. There was so much of him and there was so little of me! I felt that he might tear apart my large intestine should he move again!

I consciously relaxed my nails, realizing only too late that they had already bitten oozing scratches into Oriya's broad shoulders. He said nothing to suggest that I had caused him any damage worth mentioning and instead tilted his head to the side, resting it against mine. I felt him flex his upper body lethargically, like a big, lazy lion. For a long time, he didn't move and I suspected that he knew I wasn't coping. Tears beaded at the corners of my eyes as I forced aside the embedded urge of my body to shuck free from the unnatural intrusion. This would only have resulted in the sensitive rectal walls tearing and I didn't want Oriya to feel accountable for that.

"I'm sorry," He said gently, holding himself steady with what was beyond even human constraint. "I knew… I knew it wasn't going to pleasant for you… not to start with…"

"It's nothing to be sorry about." I whispered back, using his momentary immobilization to briskly lift and lower myself on the painful intrusion, hoping that the friction might serve as a means to mask the prolonging ache. To my immense relief, it didn't take long for my pained whimpers to subside into soft purrs of satisfaction. The enduring sting from the initial penetration remained as a consistent reminder of the apparent sin in which we were indulging but it was overcome and shunned insolently by the cloud of gratifying warmth that transcended from my loins. Oriya added to my efforts by dipping his hips in time with the ridiculously serene rhythm at which my own pelvis maneuvered. He didn't bother to suppress a moan as his cock received the stimulated friction that clamped his hot organ on all sides as tightly as two hands consistently squeezing. I tightened the muscles in my ass as much as I was able and shucked my hips upwards, the force of shimmying down Oriya's length nearly skinning the erect penis. The samurai belted out a sound that was something between a scream and a choked gasp, lifting his upper torso in order to whip his hair back off of his face and transmit the exclamation towards the ceiling. I grasped his deltoids desperately, staring down into his tortured features as I continued to move without a seconds relent. His teeth were bared; eyebrows furrowed over his burning eyes as I tirelessly assaulted his trapped cock with the fabrication of my tortuous pathway. It hit me, again and again, the pleasure coursing through me like an overdose of adrenaline, injected directly into the blue conduits of my veins. And just as I hoped, my languid movements proved almost instantaneously effective, with the impressive size of Oriya's manhood able to stroke up against my prostate with every movement. I emitted a little moan of happiness, bringing my hands up to rest on Oriya's shoulders so that I could raise and lower my body more easily.

"Just give me a moment to adjust." I interjected, seeing him prepare for a second brutish assault. "Be sweet."

"It's been so long… I don't know if I have it in me to be sweet just yet." I suppose that's true. After repressing his libido for three long years, I could sense Oriya was raring to go full throttle and I should have expected this going into it. Even with the lubrication, I should have insisted that he stretch me out for longer.

I continued to move of my own accord, forcing Oriya to tolerate the mildly teasing sensation until sure enough, I felt a burgeoning warmth spreading up through my groin and encompass my senses until I was similarly aching for something tenuously more robust. I pressed one of my hands against Oriya's cheek, breathing harsh breaths into his agonized expression.

I issued one command. "Move."

He pressed my leg tightly upwards along the side of his chest, steadying me for what was coming and then pulled out almost all the way, leaving the head of his erection throbbing between the ring muscle of my anus. He forced _me _to wait this time and just when I figured the top of my head was bound to erupt, he took mercy and slammed himself roughly back in, eliciting a yowl of ecstasy from me as a direct result. There was still a bit of raw pain but I toughed through it, meeting the thrusts with the dips of my own pelvis. The pleasure became predominant after a while and the residual ache, easily dismissible. I shut my eyes, pulling my chin up over his shoulder and mewling to the rhythm of every movement he made inside of me. Each thrust hit up against that divine spot and every brush of contact sent a bullet of pure ecstasy rushing down into my groin. I felt as though there was something very good just around the corner, dipping out of sight but still hovering on the far borders of my peripheral vision, torturing me with its brazen, unattainable proximity.

"Uh… Oriya… move ta the left a little… j-just a little ta the left and- and… up further… dive in harder baby and you'll get it… Oh _God_…" The word slipped out in desperation, my toes curling inwards like flower petals coiling in the harsh sunlight. My eyes were clamped shut as I concentrated on maneuvering Oriya's cock into the place I so desperately required it. "You nearly got it… just there move… move, move _please_, harder… harder- _Oriya! Oh!"_

Suddenly I was screaming. Suddenly I was arching my back and thrashing like a fish out of water. Suddenly I was crying out Oriya's name and reeling off random intermingled sentences of English and Japanese amidst a forest of groans and yelps of delight.

He had found something in me. Something that lit a fire in me, greater in divine ecstasy then my prostate could ever offer. I'm not sure what place he had found buried deep within my body but once he had touched upon it, I couldn't imagine ever making love without it.

The effect was incredible. Indefinable. In a matter of seconds, I had shed the final shrapnel of reservation buried within my sub consciousness and reverted to some bizarre uncharacteristic animalistic savagery. My teeth struck Oriya's shoulder like a caustic snakebite, my hips gyrating so wildly against his that I nearly threw him backwards. It was the ever-constant grip of his hand about my bottom that prevented him from losing hold as we joined as one so completely that it was hard to tell where he ended and I began.

Oriya was growling aberrantly, his last shred of sexual control shattered by the strike of intense passion. His cock throbbed within the confines of my body, squeezed stalwartly by my clenched buttocks as he thrust in and out of my slight perforation. I gripped him with both arms around the neck, awash with the fiery sensations that gallivanted through my senses with each perfect stroke to my prostate, inviting… no, _pleading _the far off shadow of orgasm to step forward and be accounted for. The usually comical and eccentric mad-scientist (AKA: Me) found himself in perfidy of his usually well-adjusted personality. The insanity of pleasure held him effectively in its grip and didn't appear ready to relent in its assault at any point in the near future. I submitted, stunned that once I had surrendered, I was not the least bit sorry for doing so. There was no shame in it, no dishonor in letting Oriya see the degree to which he had reduced the quirky and normally unshakably work directed Guardian of Death. It was a testament to him. A tribute to how unique this man was, that he was able to diminish me to this mewling, pleading, writhing thing. A thing that could barely condense its' thoughts into one discernable construct of coherent deliberation. It simply felt too good for depth of any level; be it shallow or profound. I couldn't even fathom just how fine the physical sensations were; could never hope to conjure up words that any sentient creature could hope to bestow upon another. All I could distinguish was the taste of the passing moments, each second prolonging a pin point of pleasure that picked and plucked cords of emotions and delight, until the most hypnotizing song weaved its way through my mind and body, alighting and systematically lulling my senses into submission. Each touch was like the softest most encompassing lullaby. A lullaby that you hoped would never entice you to close your eyes but you were unable to resist the longer it carried you within its soft clutches. The rise and fall of body and breath had a meaning and with that meaning, a reason to why it was happening. And that reason was what we both felt that night but could never define.

Something beyond lust and love even. The very essence that existed betwixt and between each of these indiscernible factors.

The memory of death being lost to me left the sensation of dying unknown. But I imagined that that this was how it felt. As though I were slipping into peaceful darkness, helpless and unable to fight my way back out.

"Yutaka…" Oriya breathed, resting his chin into my shoulder, bracing one arm around my body, and keeping a firm hold of my leg with the other. I was unable to reply, barely able to kiss his face in return for the admission of my name. My erect desire pressed against his stomach, abandoned and aching for notice. Attending to it with sudden aberrant attention, Oriya released my back and used his now freed hand to clasp my cock and proceeded to stroke me vigorously; working his way from the pulsing head all the way to the scrotum and back. I yelped and moaned at the double turns of pleasure being pushed upon me, working one of my hands down to share the task of masturbation. Oriya groaned lustily as he watched me scoop the top of my cock between my fingers and squeeze and pump it desperately, whilst he wrung the cup of his hand around the base, occasionally pumping at it in the same manner he might have worked a stress ball.

"Oriya… oh… god…" The whole experience had apparently brought out my religious side, which is ironic since the religion in mention happened to be the one that condemned what we were doing. There's a thing called poetic justice but my brain happened to be too scrambled at the time to figure it out. It was barely a passing thought and then my mind turned to more important things. I clung to Oriya so entirely that I could have given static electricity a run for its' money. He continued to systematically increase the rapidity of our lovemaking, our breaths pulsing out against the skin of our necks and shoulders. He managed to keep his weight stationed, which was incredibly venerable, considering the passionate degree of our union. My toes were barely scraping the floor; he had me just about suspended, almost the entire weight of my body bearing down on his erection. His abdomen slapped against mine so hard that I was very nearly winded but our amorous amalgamation only seemed to increase in tempo until it became so passionate that Oriya braced both his hands into my lower back, (who cared about that poor fictional schmuck outside anyway?) giving me the assistance I needed to throw both my legs around his waist.

Do not take this lightly. I admit that I have warmed a few beds in my day (and a few backseats and couches also) but I was certainly by no stretch of the imagination, an acrobatic lover. That would require, on my part, a stretch of the imagination and the majority of my creative skills were scientific specific and not in the least bit bedroom oriented. But the passion I was feeling at that moment, the realm of pleasure Oriya was conveying me to, was so beyond anything I had experienced before that it dramatically compensated for the fact that I was a generally unfit man. Sure, you see the American sitcom girls flinging their legs around men's waists, hips, chest, necks with comparative ease but come _on. _That's _television. _It's intended to inspire the notion of sex being… well, sexy. But not all of us looked that good. Not all of us were that limber. Not all of us went to yoga classes and frequented the gym four or five times a week. Most of us couldn't even lift our feet up high enough to tie our shoelaces without straining a muscle in our lower backs.

That's the sad reality and I thought I had learnt to accept my not so limited series of limitations many eons ago.

And yet here I was, pulling off my own version of the American Sitcom girl without even thinking about it. And damn it felt _good. _My erection, left abandoned for the time being, was pressed along Oriya's stomach, pointing up towards his chest. I could feel it throbbing and aching for a secondary release, ready to give in and shoot through every time Oriya moved his hips. I held onto him tight, flexing the muscles in my butt in order to bounce myself up and down on his cock. Oriya grunted into my shoulder, moving his hands back to cup my buttocks in each palm, using this hold to lift me higher, in turn increasing the depths to which his cock would plunge when I was dropped. We continued moving together, moaning, thrusting and yelping and I soon felt myself arrive at the edge once more.

A noise came out of me. It was the strangest noise I had ever made. Something of a grunt, a cry to express a passion that was beyond anything I had ever experienced before. I must have choked on the breath that caught in my throat, a breath that quickly darted free as that elusive bloom of pleasure snatched the lure and leapt clear from the waters that had confined it for so long. I felt myself rapture, inside and out, as wave upon wave of long withheld sexual build up was finally released. Semen ruptured out of me, splattering up Oriya's stomach and onto his chest and my thighs twitched reflexively from the aftershocks that continued to electrocute the interior of my passageways. The modern day samurai set me down suddenly and darted backwards, momentarily freeing himself from my body in order to capture my still expostulating cock in his mouth, swallowing what remained of my dripping passion. The sensation of that lovely mouth rimming about my manhood sent me spiraling once more and black clouds danced before my eyes. So… that was how it was. It felt that for those utterly insatiable moments of bliss, as though I had never experienced the depths of Hades. Instead, the two of us drifted up from its ruins into a blue cloud filled stereotype Heaven, wrapped in each other's arms and covered in kisses that caressed our skin as fleeting and soft as the wings of angels, brushing by our cheeks as we lay enchanted by the beads of love that lay twinkling in the depths of one another's eyes. We were there, the two of us; together in that unsurpassable pleasure that Oriya alone had been able to take me to. How I loved him at that point. How I loved him then when I was finally able to admit the truth of these words to myself.

But I had apparently done myself a little disservice whilst in the midst of my orgasm. It had been so extreme that I was momentarily blinded by burning hot lights that exploded across my vision and as the waves of pleasure assaulted me, I threw my head back and cracked my head on the window, drawing blood that left a matted blot against the glass.

Oriya didn't notice right away, completely distracted by his current task. It felt so good that I didn't have the heart to wise him up, so I ignored the brief discharge of pain and glanced downward, observing with ravenous eyes the delicious sight, as Oriya lapped up every last drop of semen that had erupted from me and not being satisfied with just that, used his hand to generously milk my softening penis, swallowing the residual white cream. He must have found the taste delicious because he even wiped off his own chest and licked his fingers. I personally, did not like the taste of semen. If I was given a choice I would much rather spit than swallow. But Oriya's attentions did go a long way to heightening the sexiness of our interaction.

"Mmm…" He murmured; as he licked clean my balls and cock, leaving me as well groomed as a cub in the care of a protective lioness. I simply panted, still recovering from the wonderful eruption of pleasure. Oriya looked up into my face with a teasing smile, which immediately dropped as he finally noticed the splat of blood against the glass behind me.

"Yutaka!" Oriya cried, pressing his hand to the wound I'd made. As though his fingers weren't sticky enough. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine…" I said, trying not to pant like the dog that just got his bone. "The wounds already healing." I brought myself back to my senses, reminding myself that Oriya hadn't even reached this place once yet. I started to sensually kiss his mouth, thinking it mighty unfair that he'd had to wait this long already. I had to keep myself from flinching at the taste of my own cum residing on his lips and tongue. "_Fuck _that was good… Finish it Oriya… let me see you happy."

He kissed me back and due to the state of my shaky knee syndrome, apparently decided that it would be best if we finished up in the bed. I was all fine and dandy with this. What we had done was amazing, no doubt but after that rockin' window, I was ready for a nice soft mattress and so was my butt. Oriya lifted me up, managing to make me feel like an elegant bride on her wedding night rather than a queer geeky blond and carried me to the bed. I'm no different to how most men feel after successful love and right then, all I particularly wanted to do was roll over and go to sleep. But it wasn't fair that Oriya should forego his own completion after indulging me for double or nothing, so I shook myself free from the fingers of sleep and forced myself to look perky and eager all over again. Oriya lay me down and gave me long enough to adjust myself comfortably before ruining all that by deftly lifting my legs up, pushing them into alignment alongside my _head_, enabling him to penetrate deeper. I hissed between my teeth.

"Don't push my legs back too far… I'm not a contortionist…" True, I had made love in a similar position before but not anyone had ever tried to put my ankles to the pillows! I was flattered if Oriya thought I'd be able to handle such an endeavor but I got the feeling he might be letting himself get just a little carried away.

Still, perhaps those yoga classes were worth looking into…

"I'm sorry…" Oriya panted, appearing a little embarrassed by his enthusiasm. He relaxed back a bit, hooking my knees atop his shoulders and rolling against me. Ah, now _that _was more like it. He was as nice and deep as he had been before but at least now my legs weren't popping out of joint. Wanting to show my appreciation of his thoughtfulness, I moved my fingers to the cleft of Oriya's buttocks and pressed them down, lazily circling the entrance with one fingernail. I was pleased to hear the effect I inspired in Oriya, whose breath started to pump eratically from his mouth like turbulence. His movements became drastically frantic and a little wild, close to inducing a repeated level of arousal in me. And then with three steady thrusts, he spent himself, rupturing deep inside of me. The hot, wonderful liquid shot through my passageways and I closed my eyes, pushing my hips backwards so that no drop was wasted. A beautiful gasp threaded up through Oriya's throat and out from his mouth as he stretched back, baring his neck and chest to the night air. His long eyelashes fluttered in ecstasy as he sat, crouched on his knees, gasping at the blessed air as though he had held his breath whilst he had taken me. Something happened then and I still cannot explain why but for a brief moment, I checked out of consciousness. Everything went black, as though I had dropped off to peaceful slumber, ludicrous though that is. I'm not sure how long I was out for, though it couldn't have been for more than a couple of seconds, a minute tops because I was brought back to consciousness by the feeling of Oriya's fingernails relaxing as he released my thighs, revealing ten crescent shaped cuts etched into my skin, where his nails had penetrated during intercourse. I blinked in slightly dazed confusion, watching with tired appreciation as he leaned back from me, his limp cock sliding out of my thoroughly abused orifice and swinging back feebly between the trembling thighs of the samurai, the tip still dripping with his satiated juices. I groaned softly and brought my arms up, helping Oriya to lower himself down, his wet cock coming to rest on my inside thigh as he collapsed on top of me.

"Was it all that?" He asked, as he wrapped his arms around me, face residing against the crook of my neck. He kissed the flesh there, as I silently considered the question, curling my fingers through the damp brown tresses of Oriya's hair that fell across my chest.

"Yeah…" I said at last, a contented smile marring my weary flushed features. "It was all that."

In the darkness of the night, the Guardian and the Pimp laughed together, arms tight around one another with no intention of letting go. I knew very well that it couldn't be like this forever. Enma was going to know about this come morning and I had no way of knowing just what I was going to do about it. But how could I concern myself with this, when here I lay with the most profoundly divine man on Gods earth, staring at me as though I were a clear pool in an otherwise barren desert? I shifted a little as I felt Oriya sigh and nuzzle his face into my neck, kissing where his lips fell and stroking the pads of his fingers across the opposing side. I groaned softly, feeling suddenly empty and wanting him back inside of me. I lifted my hips, conscious of the warm, satisfying sensation of his semen resting up in the depths of my body, like a very welcome visitor that I was happy to accommodate without charge. Some of the sticky mess was congealing in the opening of my anus and would have undoubtedly ruined the sheets if Oriya hadn't taken it upon himself to get me cleaned up. Using one of his very own handkerchiefs, he twisted the material about his finger and gently poked it up inside of my aching muscle, swabbing at the leakage that was of some immediate concern to the sanctity of his linens. I simply shut my eyes, letting him do as he pleased, feeling very tired and content. After a minute's excavation, Oriya withdrew his finger and scrunched the handkerchief up, setting it on the bedside table, perhaps for later use. He lay on his side beside me, and I reached out, wrapping my arms around him and pulling myself close until our noses overlapped and we were eye to eye. Strands of his long hair had gotten stuck to my chest by sweat and vice versa. I occupied myself in the sensual task of picking each strand free, managing to do so without diverting my eyes from Oriya's own, sleepy dark orbs.

I still could scarcely believe that we had done it. I was so happy it was beyond my ability to express it. Oriya too seemed quite chuffed, to say the least. He gazed at me lovingly as he ran the knuckle of his finger over my cheek. His other arm was wrapped around my midsection, his hand gently rubbing my bottom.

"Yutaka…" He said breathlessly.

"Mmmhmm?" I was sleepy. I had my eyes shut and I was ready to rock out to the world of dreams, which were only bound to disappoint after my reality had just turned so freakin' bitchin.

I cranked open one heavy eyelid to get a look at Oriya, hopefully so that it would imprint into my dreamland where you could have sex forever and never get tired. His visage did not disappoint. His hair was damp and sweat was beaded across his chest, neck and as far as I knew, his back. He looked beautiful and seductive and so much more interesting than the prospect of going to sleep.

"Did you… enjoy being with me?" He asked, after I had stared at him for what felt like a million years. Hell, it wouldn't have been hard to lose track of the time.

I smiled in recognition of this old adage and whispered directly between his lips. "I haven't stopped enjoying it yet, Oriya." I kissed him gently, adoring him and wishing I had the guts to say so much more. "You're still here…"

Oriya returned my smile, running his knuckle over my chin and a sudden, distressing thought came to mind, so upsetting that I could see no other alternative than to address it.

"Oriya?"

"Yeah?" He asked, not appearing the least bit sleepy as of yet. Heck, was probably ready for another go and here I was settling in for a kip! Not that a wash, rinse, repeat of the above didn't sound great too but at this stage Oriya would have only found himself fucking me until I fainted.

"Will you stay with me…?" I asked, feeling very shy all of a sudden. I grasped his fingers between mine and gave them a squeeze. "All through the night? I don't want you to leave me… that's what they did."

He cupped my face in his hand, stroking my cheek with a tenderness that might have even suggested his feelings for me were greater than what we had just done. "_'My eternal heart and my undying love. Forever I am yours.'_"

I smiled, verging on telling him that I loved him again. Fortunately, I got a hold of myself just in the nick of time. "You are a very kind man, Oriya." I nuzzled his nose and then kissed the patch of skin beneath his eye. "I adore you… you're a wonderful man."

Oriya smiled sleepily, taking up my long abandoned task of unsticking his hair from where it had plastered itself against my upper arms, shoulders and neck. It made my skin tickle every time he plucked a strand free. "Thankyou Yutaka. You're an incredibly sweet guy."

He pressed his mouth up against mine again and then seemed to change his mind about the longevity of the kiss because he readjusted his lips to sustain the contact he had already established between them. I placed my hand on the back of Oriya's head and returned the gesture in kind, before gently pressing his temple down to rest against my chest. I stroked the crown of his head and trailed my fingers across the extraordinary patchwork of muscles in his back. Our legs entwined as we lay naked atop the blankets and I found myself longing for him to push himself inside of me again. Not to make love just yet but to fill the empty void that had seemed to discomfort me ever since we had parted.

Oriya's chuckle broke through my bizarre longing, distracting me from the aching want, albeit temporarily. "Who ever thought… that a doctor could make me feel this way."

"What way?" I asked, feeling sleep tug at me like a child attempting to attract the attention of a distracted adult.

Oriya paused for a moment. "Happy…" He finally conceded.

_**-End Part Two-**_


	25. Watari: Loves Last Surrender Pt: 3

_**Dark Adaptation**_

**Disclaimer: **Yami no Matsuei is the property of Yoko Matsushita, not the property of NaPap. And don't think I'm not suing!

**Loves Last Surrender Part 3**

**Watari**

We twined our arms around each other and slowly drifted off to sleep. I slept the sleep without dreams, without confusion and without the unconsciousness' attempts to solve the dilemmas of the waking mind. I remained that way, for the better part of an hour before Oriya decided I'd rested enough. I groaned my way back into the real world as he mounted my body, his weight bearing me down into the mattress. He shifted a little, moving his hips against mine. He wasn't aroused yet but as I pressed back into his movements, I felt his body react.

"Yutaka?" His voice was groggy, and he cleared his throat lowering it to a whisper. _"Sweetheart… are you awake?"_

I was still half asleep and not one hundred percent certain of what was going on. "Mmph… Ori?"

Oriya made no bones about his intentions behind waking me. He wanted to make love again and I found myself embarrassingly receptive to this prospect, though my body still ached a little on the inside. My breath pitching high and low as his lips fell upon my neck, kissing the tender flesh softly, and then moving up to my cheek. I moaned quietly, tilting my head to the side and catching the lobe of Oriya's ear between my teeth and sucking on it gently.

"Did you just call me… sweetheart?" I asked, wondering if I had imagined it. Wouldn't have been the first time I let wishful thinking get the better of me.

"Mmmhmm…" Oriya confirmed, moving his mouth sidelong in order to suck my upper lip between his own. I don't think a one of us had opened our eyes yet; so lazy were we in our contentment. "You don't like that?"

"Quite the contrary… no one's ever called me that before." I kissed the front of Oriya's shoulders and dug my nails into his back. He moaned, a deep, rumbling vibration from somewhere deep in his chest. "You know, from the moment I first saw you… I think I wanted you. I wanted to figure you out, to understand you. …I wanna apologize for that arrogance." I reached up to stroke Oriya's cheek, forcing myself to open my eyes so that I could watch him in the dark. "It was wrong of me to think I had the right to know the way your mind words. Truly, you are the most… complex, intriguing, kindhearted bastard I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. And that's _all _I need to know." I hugged him tightly, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck, feeling warm and safe and right where I wanted to be. "You really are a good person."

He lifted my hand and placed a kiss into the palm. But his eyes were elsewhere and I could sense that he was deeply contemplating something. "Why do you keep saying that about me? What makes me such a… good person in your eyes?"

I couldn't think of any other way to answer right then, so I threw up my defensive shield and smiled until my face felt strained. But Oriya had started to figure me out and he cut through the crap and seared directly to the bone.

"That bastard really wore you down, didn't he?"

"That bastard made a bastard out of me." I murmured, eyes downcast. Oriya looked confused and I realized that there was no way past this without expressing the complete and total truth. A truth I had allowed no one, not even Tsuzuki to know.

Trying to set my mind to another place and separate my emotions from what was happening, I gathered what courage I had and stretched out my right arm revealing the track marks peppering my inside elbow. He must have seen them the night before but probably mistook them for wounds inflicted during my beating. No such luck. I heard myself start to whimper and then this abashed sound broke out into a contemptuous chuckle.

"_I _was the bastard." I wanted no mistakes made about that one and I didn't want to hide my egregious sin any longer.

Oriya was able to see the scarring clearly in the dark and he brought his fingers down to run along them. "Yutaka… these are… track marks." He looked down on me and I felt the beginnings of his erection wither against my thigh. I couldn't see his expression but this was enough to confirm his disapproval. "You had a drug problem. Didn't you?"

"Look what I did to myself!" I cried, holding out my other arm, revealing the marks there also. Being ambidextrous, I had been able to inject myself in either arm, depending on how damaged one might be. "We didn't have money enough for the roof over our heads and I couldn't shirk that damn addiction long enough to put food on the table! I did this… to myself… because I couldn't cope with the memories of what that man had done to me. But that's no excuse! It was selfish and I indulged myself in that weak pursuit! Doesn't that make me the bastard?"

"Stop saying that." He definitely sounded angry now. Geez, why had our conversation taken on this turn?

"But it's true, ain't it?" I could feel my emotions getting the better of me. "I'm an asshole, I'm a negligent bastard, I-"

I had indulged myself entirely too much and Oriya was fed up and tired of it. He lost his temper. "STOP IT!!" He pinned my arms down and glared angrily into my face. I hadn't seen him so furious, not even in the alleyway the night before and I felt immediately chastised. "Stop saying that I'm so much better than you! I have done things in my life that would make your hair curl to your eyebrows! I'm not a good man! I'm a profoundly _terrible _man and even weaker on the inside than you will ever know!" He put his face closer to mine. "All this time… you've been punishing yourself, haven't you? Believing you were only good enough to be with people that you thought to be as bad as you were. That's what this is all about, ain't it?"

He was right. That was _entirely _what I was all about and I was heart sick with the affirmation of it.

To punish myself for my sins, I would find a man in the same age range and of the same appearance as Okiko Haruhi and get them to bed me in a forceful manner. It brought back all those feelings I had endured as a child, locked in the basement of the house next door. It was the best method of castigation I could think of. The greatest hurt I could inflict. Does a bastard deserve anything more than a bastard? That had been my unconscious reasoning and Oriya had seen it, even when I could not.

Now that this had been made painfully clear, I could do nothing in response but simply lay there as dead as I truly was and whimper my suffering like an animal with its foot snared in the teeth of a trap. Oriya stared down at me through the blur of my eyes but eventually relented in his reprimand and lifted up one of my arms, kissing the marks on my inside elbow tenderly.

"Oriya…" I softly whispered.

"Be honest. Talk to me." He rolled over onto his side and gently trailed his hand across my stomach, caressing the slight muscle formation.

"Talk about what?" I sniffed, sucking back a whole lot of junk that was congealing at the back of my sinuses. Hot damn, _that _was sexy.

His voice issued to me, soft and low. "Tell me how you died."

"We don't talk about that." I said, shaking my head with final attendance. Whenever a Guardian of Death said that, it was the end of the subject no questions asked. It was an unspoken understanding, a taboo of sorts to discuss the circumstances surrounding our admittance to the Ministry of Hades. Tsuzuki was a little freer on this unspecified censorship than most. When he had first met Hisoka he just went ahead and started guessing how the kid had died at such a young age. He had asked me too but I never told. We had never shared those details about one another. Our friendship was based entirely on the experience and enjoyment of our second life, not reflecting on our wasted first attempt.

But Oriya wasn't a Guardian of Death and he didn't understand how touchy this subject was. His eyes were very alert and boring directly into mine, as though attempting to glamour me in same way or another. I broke the contact and heard him sigh.

"Can't you talk to me about it?" He asked, voice as gentle as always. "I know it's painful but I want you to trust me. You never know; talking about it might help."

I was reminded of my previous quibble, that if talking were of any use, I would have naught a trouble in my heart! But there again was that indispensable sway Oriya had over people. I felt no desire to withhold that information from him, not when he had asked directly.

"Only Mr. Konoe knows how I died… it was easier letting everyone wonder then to make myself think back on how it actually happened." And yet here I was, thinking back all over again. I forced my mind to view the event with professional apathy. It was better that way… it wasn't as horrifying if I didn't allow myself to _be _horrified by it.

"What happened, sweetheart?" He had noticed my shaky voice and his hand continued to stroke my stomach in gentle circles. I guess he assumed that my death had something to do with my earlier drug addiction, which wasn't the reality at all.

I held my hand out in front of my face and I suddenly jumped back to that day when I had actually seen the skin crackle and melt, the flesh falling away to reveal shiny bone underneath. I remembered the heat, the crackling heat and the cowardice of my mind as I vomited over and over again in fear and futility. Against my will a sob came bursting out of me and with it a series of hiccups as I consciously fought back the tears.

"There was a fire…" I brought my hands up through my hair and pulled my bangs out to hold before my face. I could still see the blond strands turning black and curling back in upon themselves. "The lab I was working in… I don't remember much of what happened but there was glass shattering and then the fire was inside with me…"

Oriya's hand was on the side of my face and he was stroking me gently. "If this was a laboratory… surely the fire department would have been alerted?"

I nodded, still whimpering. "Yeah, of course. But this was late at night. I was working back because… well, that's me I guess. I'm always working. Through the night, through the weekend, through the holidays. I wanted to make a difference. That was my dream, y'know? I wanted to create something that would change Japan… change the world even. But the fire… it spread so quickly. And the windows were bared. The door was titanium and… I don't know. I don't remember a lot of it." That was true. I couldn't recall the specifics of the time before I was a Guardian of Death. It is, in a lot of ways, similar to being born. No one can remember the time before they came screaming into this world. A Guardian of Death too preserves precious few memories. Enma prefers it this way, so that we are not perpetually traumatized by our deaths. In my case, I was relieved. Who would want to remember burning to death? "But… there were hypodermic needles in the cupboard and I… I couldn't just sit there and let the fire eat me. I was so afraid… I filled the needle with whatever chemicals I could find and I… I injected them. Just as I did the drugs. So I… so I wouldn't suffer the fire…" With a surrendering sob, I buried my face into the crook of Oriya's neck and we put our arms around each other, him gently shushing me the whole while I spilt my guts. "But I was in a bad place, even before the fire. I felt all alone in the world. I was scared… This drug I was using, it was the height of popularity at the time and it made all the pain go away. I weaned myself off of it and I was on the straight and narrow for years and years. But eventually… I had this awful relapse. That awful man came back! He brought all my memories back and –" I clutched my fingers against Oriya's chest, squeezing my burning eyes shut as tears coursed down my cheeks. "– I couldn't take it anymore! I was so afraid, Oriya. Afraid of everything! And this drug, this Shell Powder – it made it all go away, even if just for a little while. My family couldn't help me… I didn't even know where they were and the ones I could contact were so disgusted by my behavior they refused to see me." I bit back a sob, ashamed of how resentful I was of them, even after all these years. "They left me all alone! I was all alone and no one would help me! I tried to keep it together and push on but it got to the stage that I couldn't even sleep at night. I just… ran out of steam. I had no one to help me… but that's no excuse. So I started taking drugs again. Shell Powder was a pumped up version of heroin… I shot up so many times I used to lose count. And then… the fire… the fire only killed me-" I broke into uncontrollable sobs. "-before I could kill myself!"

I could feel Oriya's eyes on me and his lips continued to pepper my face, cheeks and hair, his fingers moving sensitively against my bare back. I buried myself against him as hard as I could; wishing I could sink into his arms and be dissolved into the comforting darkness of his body.

"Oh Yutaka…"

That resentful urge hit me again but this time it was directed deservingly upon myself."I thought I had it bad but lots of people went through the same shit that I did and _they _were strong enough to get on with it." I made myself meet Oriya's eyes, giving him the full capacity of the truth that I had been unable to admit even to myself. "I was _weak. _And I've spent my entire death attempting to atone for that. Even if all I can do is smile, it's better than being weak, isn't it?"

He'd heard enough and made that clear with a temperate **'**Shhh…'. He bundled me into his arms and I let my own go up around his neck. "There, there, now. You made a mistake. A _big _mistake and you paid for it with your life. _That_ was your punishment, so don't keep blaming yourself in the here and now. You're a different person. You're a good person. You came in here and proved me wrong about so many things that I have taken for granted." He drew his forehead down to rest against mine, sliding a sincere smile through the night darkness. A smile that even I, with my poor eyesight, could see and feel. "It's amazing… you're a dead man… yet you are more alive than anyone I have ever met. Every time you smile, every time you talk, the faces you pull, those beautiful eyes… don't ever believe that you are a weak person. Ever. I… I believe in you, Yutaka. I believe… that if you can make a ghost like me feel alive, you are stronger than you have ever let yourself believe."

This was the sweetest part about being a couple. It was sharing yourself with someone. It was the consolation of another soul, another heart and another voice. I was so touched by his admission that I was rendered momentarily speechless. This confirmed beyond doubt that the connection we had established here in Kokakuro was beyond simple lust and immediate physical gratification. Oriya had feelings for me. _Genuine _feelings.

"Thankyou." I whispered lastly. It wasn't enough after the sweetness he had shown me but I injected it with all the emotions of my heart and hoped it said everything that I couldn't say. Less is more and I'm sure Oriya understood this. He lifted my knuckles and pressed his lips against them.

"I knew there was something wonderful inside of you. The way you took care of those girls… the way you spoke to them. You're always so… happy."

"Well… not always." I sniffed, wiping at my eyes. "I'm a weepy old thing tonight."

"And that just won't do." Sporting a mischievous smile he slid back on top of me and brushed my hair back from my face. "Maybe I can think of something to cheer you up."

"Hmmm." I purred, rolling my hips against Oriya's. His cock immediately swelled, poking into my inside thigh. "Anything coming to mind?"

He bent his lips down beside my ear, his voice deep and husky. "How does the best sex of your afterlife sound?"

Blood rushed to the head of my penis and it stretched out to brush along the side of his. I smiled up at him, trying my hardest not to get overwhelmed by my hormones and giggle like a moron. "Like I've died and gone to Heaven."

Oriya returned my smile and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Ah… you are easy on the eyes. I could stare at you like this for hours."

Oh God no. … Why would he want to stare for hours when there were so many more creative ways that we could be spending the time? I shifted beneath him, rolling my pelvis up, down and around, hoping that he would get the hint. Judging by the state of downstairs affairs, I felt it was safe to say that he did.

"Ah… except when you move like _that._" He groaned, tilting his head back as I slid both my hands down beneath the sheets and started to eagerly stroke his stiffening erection. I was growing to love the feel of his cock and somehow, I felt immensely satisfied that I was able to put my hands upon it whenever the urge took me from now on. I gave him a good squeeze and dipped my thumb into the wet slit, eliciting a bear like growl from my… well; I suppose you could say he was my boyfriend now, couldn't you? "Careful Yutaka. I can't always be a gentleman in bed, especially if you're planning on pulling out all the stops."

Desire coursed through me and I gripped the head of Oriya's cock tightly, causing him to cry out with uninhibited delight. "If that was what you're like as a gentleman… then for the love of God, _stop holding back._"

We gazed at one another in longing for a moment and then Oriya betrayed his willpower and leant down, capturing my mouth in a blindingly passionate kiss. Healing ability or no, my tongue was getting a Charlie Horse!

He paused for a moment, apparently stuck on how he might effectively relay his thoughts to me and I gave him the time he required to satisfactorily phrase his words, holding my hands and body steady so as not to distract him.

"How would you feel about…" He began at painstakingly last. "…making love to me? Or do you prefer being the… um…" He struggled for the right word.

"Girly one?" I suggested, using Makoto's former description of me. Oriya grinned, embarrassed.

"Yeah."

In male-male relationships, there weren't a great number of occasions in which I found myself taking the dominant role. I generally was not attracted to men who were more feminine than me and that was what it would take for me to assume the traditionally 'male' position. I preferred my men to be more on the masculine side, affording me the opportunity to play the wench. However, I couldn't deny that the notion of being dominant over _Oriya _wasn't intriguing, ludicrous though it seemed. He was just so big and manly that making a girl out of him seemed very much like a contradiction in terms. But it still sounded sexy all the same and I craved to feel myself inside of him as equally as I longed for him to enter into me.

"I wouldn't mind at all!" I declared, having given the matter a good thirty seconds of thought. "Top or bottom, it's all good!" Playing by ear, I flung my arms around Oriya's neck, pulling our bodies tightly into alignment. "LET ME ATCHA!"

Not giving him any time to react, I twisted Oriya forcefully around and pinned him to the bed, forcing his legs apart and then sliding between them. He looked up at me, expression torn between shock and admiration.

"Ow…" He said, grinning and rubbing at the red handprints I had left on the back of his neck. "You know, you have some serious potential…"

"I've tried conjuring it up outside the bedroom but alas all my attempts have been in vain!" I sighed with fake dismay, hanging my head. Oriya reached up to stroke my cheek bringing my attention back to the glorious task at hand. I smiled like a horny imp (Not _you _Ichibana) and tilted my body down over him. "It'll be nice to be inside of you."

"My sentiments exactly, my dear Guardian of Death." Oriya purred and the sound was so sensual that I decided not to fuck about any longer and determinately brought both hands down and worked his aching cock, throwing all the motion of my shoulders and upper back into it. Oriya groaned and slid his hand across my shoulders, tracing his fingers down my spine and then burying them into the cleft of my buttocks. He used his spare hand to rub one of the pert cheeks, delving his fingers into the velvety softness of my entrance.

I hissed slightly from the small stabs of pain erupting out through each point of intrusion. "I'm still a little tender there, baby." It felt natural to call him by this pet name now and though I shocked myself by coming out with it, I was happy to hear myself saying it just the same.

"Well, I didn't hear you complaining at the time." He shot back cheekily, though I did notice that he became decidedly more gentle in his ministrations. Old softie.

"Not complaining. Just… making a scientific observation." I looked over my shoulder and down at Oriya's hands. They looked so big outlined against the pale flesh of my bum. "Here's another one: You, sir, have a butt fetish."

He rolled his eyes, fully intending that I bear witness to his sarcastic gesture. "Well… _eureka._"

I ignored him for the most part, just content to close my eyes and roll my pelvis forward and back, meeting the tender probes where they fell. "Mmm… feels damn good." I bent forward to place a kiss on Oriya's mouth and met his eyes again, grinning like a devil just so that he knew I was going to have my fun with him. I sat up straight and high, seating myself directly atop Oriya's erection. This wasn't something I ever did, it was just too overtly exhibitionist for my tastes but I wanted to do it for Oriya. I wanted to watch his expression and hear his voice and watch him move. I started to rock our bodies together, both my hands on the crown of my head, knees leveraging the weight of my body into the mattress beneath us. Oriya exhausted a deep rumble as our swollen cocks rubbed together, his hands clinging to my buttocks and fingernails hooked into the cleft. He started to thrust upward in order to meet me and I groaned as we swayed together like this for as long as we both could stand it, sweat dripping down our bodies. I felt my hair slide down off of my shoulder, a drop of sweat rolling free from my chin and landing in the center of Oriya's chest. Oriya moved one hand down from my butt and hooked his fingers between my legs from behind. His fingers brushed through wiry pubic hair and pressed against the soft flesh of my testicles, causing me to shiver with involuntary longing. He cupped the swelling sacs, rolling the flesh between his palm and fingers until I felt my balls contract tightly. One of his fingers tickled the underside of my penis and I stared down into his flushed face, wanting to break into his body with wild animal recklessness. I'm sure Oriya judged that this was my next course of action because his hands now grabbed me firmly by the ass and he started to pull him up towards his chest.

"Get up here." He growled.

What he was suggesting was something I hadn't done before. I'd never trusted nor lusted for anyone to the degree that I did Oriya and it was because I was so carried away by the extremeties of my desire in that moment that I went ahead without hesitation. I shuffled forward on my knees, moving up to perch my ass on Oriya's chest, kneeling with my legs framing the sides of the brunette's head.

"Watch me." He ordered and I found it a fruitless command because I couldn't have taken my eyes off of him, even if I had wanted to. Oriya took a hold of me, using one hand to direct my aching cock in between his lips. His eyes never left mine and I wanted to tilt my head back and yowl at the ceiling but I gave him the gift of my complete, undivided expression, hushing out deep, evocative breaths between my gaping lips. I murmured with deep satisfaction as Oriya sucked my greedy length vigorously, his hands braced against my hips as I rotated my pelvis against his face, my scrotum additionally stimulated by the pressure of his chest between my legs. I brought both hands out to blindly brace against the headboard of the bed, sighing and mewling my appreciation of Oriya's skill. It was Heaven while it lasted but after a while I felt an unwelcome pressure push down through my pelvis and this time the groan I emitted was one of sincere dismay.

"Ori? I gotta go."

He slid his mouth free of me immediately and looked into my face with pining eyes.

"Where on earth do you need to go?" He wasn't being difficult but I felt frustrated just the same.

"I need to pee." I whispered, feeling the insistent tug on my bladder escalate at the delay. Oriya's brawny chest was in the way, so I couldn't scrunch my thighs together as a means to hold back the flow.

He raised an eyebrow as though the idea of a Guardian needing to urinate was something he hadn't even considered. "What, now?"

"Either that, or you go on about your business and get a very nasty and not so refreshing beverage." It was a wonder I hadn't felt inclined to go before now, considering the previous sex session and all the alcohol I had consumed before hand. I swung my legs over Oriya and kissed him quickly on the lips. "I'll just be a minute. Keep the bed warm."

"Hurry back." He urged, giving my bottom an encouraging slap as I swung myself off of the mattress. I was momentarily tempted to ignore my straining bladder and just throw myself back on top of the samurai but thankfully my better sense won out over my hormones and I settled for a sly wink over my shoulder as I dashed for the bathroom, not particularly concerned with giving him a good view as I went. I shut the door behind me and hunkered over to the toilet, feeling gratifying weight and tension released as I handled business in the usual manner. Once I was done, I cleaned myself up proper, flushed the toilet and washed my hands, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I headed back towards the door. My hair was disheveled, my face and body considerably rosy and I looked the happiest I had seen myself in a long time.

Damn, I was a lucky guy!

And it occurred to me then, to see whether or not I could sneak up on Oriya. I knew that the guy had been able to sense Hisoka phasing into his Ghost Mode but I was still tempted to try, regardless of the end result.

I shifted and then opened the door, trying to do so as discretely as possible. I tiptoed to the end of the bed and eased my knee up onto the mattress, slinking up to the space between Oriya's legs. His big firm cock jutted up high, eagerly awaiting treatment and I realized then that I hadn't once gotten to taste it yet. Oriya had gone down on me twice and here I hadn't even returned the favor! I would certainly have to amend that little gaffe!

"I can see you, you know." Oriya murmured lazily. He looked down at me, directly _at _me and smiled generically. "You Guardians think you're so damn sneaky with that little gimmick but I've told you before; has jack effect on someone like me."

"That's just too bad then, isn't it?" I said tartly, sticking out my tongue at him as I shifted back into sight. "This might have been extra hot, if you couldn't have seen me doing it." I set my hand around the head of his penis and tugged teasingly, just so he got the hint.

Oriya's eyelashes fluttered and he tilted his head back. "I think I'll enjoy it just fine this way, thankyou."

I grinned sweetly as I crawled up his body and sprawled out on top of him, fingers linked with his own and using this connection to pin his hands to the sheets above his head. I leant down and placed a rather sloppy kiss on his bottom lip, capturing half of his chin in the process.

"You think we're just gonna skip straight to the grand finale without me having done my share?" I asked skeptically, shoving my hips down hard and grinning as blood rushed into Oriya's cheeks. Our mutual desires rubbed together so hard it was a wonder that the throbbing sex organs didn't ignite. "I wanna taste you Ori… I want to make you my favorite flavor."

Oriya merely smiled and when I released his arms, he crossed them lazily behind his head and spread his legs, freely allowing the worship/molestation of his body to commence unhindered.

I spent a few misspent minutes admiring Oriya's naked form before setting to work, kissing and sucking on the perpendicular lines of his throat, capturing the pulse between my lips and holding it as proof of life in my teeth. It twitched in my clutches and I gave it a little lick, listening carefully every passing second for any sound my lover may have emitted. So far, Oriya was emitting a deep engine like purr; a throaty 'mrrrr…', which was nice but more suited to lazy contentment rather than extreme arousal. I knew I had to work harder! Dammit, let I it never be said that Yutaka Watari ever made a half assed job of things! And as soon as that thought transmitted its plan to every station in my body, I had snatched the samurai's hot, erect cock into the palm of my hand and was tugging on it mercilessly, whilst my pink, no doubt incredibly chaffed lips sanctioned themselves around one lovely copper nipple and sucked on it, turning the little bud into a pebble. Oriya gasped and then moaned expansively, tilting back as I kissed him down, tracing my tongue around every little line and arch in the beautifully maintained body, coming to an eventual pause at the place my fingers continued to work so diligently. I lifted my head, meeting Oriya's deep eyes with an expression of teasing ignorance.

"Would you like me to taste you?" I asked after what was, I hoped, an obnoxiously long hiatus. In response, the samurai spread his legs as far as he was able, gazing down adoringly at me as I crouched between his legs in the artistic impersonation of a lioness about to pounce upon its prey. I felt my eyes practically gleam in the darkness and I licked his lips with audible anticipation.

"If you dare… savor me. Devour me alive." The samurai whispered without fear but with every trace of untamable delight. I took my hand away from his erection, stretching my body out and tucking my hair behind my ear as I placed a kiss on the tip of his penis. I tasted sweat and the salty flavor of man and I nearly bit him, such was the crazy longing that stole over my senses. Oriya sat up, leaning his back against the headboard and spreading his legs wide so that he could get a good look at what I was doing. I wanted to give him the most erotic view that I could provide, so I chose to kneel between Oriya's thighs on all fours, my chest pressed against the linen of the bed and my butt arched upward toward the ceiling. I clenched the flesh of his loins between my splayed fingers and lowered my tongue and lips around the dark tip of Oriya's cock as erotically as possible. The head glistened with pre-cum and I placed his mouth around the very tip, swirling my tongue softly across the crown and into the pinprick hole from which the tiny drops of premature desire stemmed. I licked up the pearly droplets as eagerly as he had mine earlier and distributed a little nip to the rounded summit, causing Oriya to arch his back unwillingly. The axis of his spine only curved further to an almost drastic degree as I took the burning desire into my mouth, near swallowing it the very first time. His flesh tasted slightly salty against my tongue as I flicked it over and around the thick shaft, licking with teasing intentions. I moved up and down along the axis, one arm wrapped around Oriya's bent right leg, whilst my other hand determinedly pushed his left hipbone down, to prevent him from getting too carried away with his thrusting and risk choking me. I had pretty good gag reflexes but I had my limitations and Oriya brought me to the very edges of them more than once. I kept my eyes open, not making a sound as I suckled the samurai's penis like a babe on its mothers teat, watching religiously as my less than audible partner stretched powerfully along the sheets, hands clasping at everything from my hair, to his own face, muscles and veins tightening and drawing in rigidly across his chest, shoulders, arms and neck. I observed the rolling of his eyes as they sank back into the recesses of his sockets, mouth sliding open and then just as quickly snapping shut. He gasped as though he were running from something fearful, though his expression was one of bliss rather than terror. It was a simply marvelous thing to experience.

I drew on his manhood, hallowing out my cheeks so that I could contact it from all sides. The only sounds in the room were Oriya's groans of ecstasy and the soft sucking noise from my mouth.

I lifted Oriya's wide hips and used the alternative angle to push his cock a little deeper into my throat. Oriya got the hint and lifted himself upwards so that I could take more of him into the depths of my gullet. My lips skimmed the tight skin mercilessly, my tongue continuing to probe along the hard shaft and then moving to stimulate the sensitive area beneath. Oriya rolled his hips so that he buried himself a little further into my mouth and I relented in the margin of self-control I still contained and started to suck with intense vigor. It was amazing – the sensations! I felt as though I could have truly devoured Oriya there and then and the guy would only scream at me for more.

Oriya sighed and put his hand on the back of my head, fingers fisting in my hair to further encourage my actions, rather then to inhibit them. I closed my eyes as I sucked him deep, focusing on the entirety of the sensation. I pulled him in as far as I was able but I still couldn't take him entirely, which was disappointing to me but judging from Oriya's heated groans, wasn't a great deal of concern to him. I gave his balls a small rub as I drew him back out of my throat and swirled my tongue beneath his penis in a widening circle. His taste was delicious; salty and spiced with the natural tang of man. I started sucking in earnest, moving my jaw up and down to sway that thick erect length in time with my body. Oriya's moans of pleasure brought my eyes back open and I watched his abdomen rise and fall with the excited heaving breaths shooting up out of his body. His eyes remained locked on me as I moved my mouth along his length, every muscle in his chest reflexively tightening and growing taut. I tasted him and nibbled the tight flesh of his cock until the thrusting movement of his pelvis became faster and considerably more detrimental to the continued sanctity of my throat tissue. I let Oriya enjoy himself for just a little while longer and then, when I sensed he had reached his limit, I pulled away with almost callous glee, sliding my tongue up underneath his penis and flicking it upward dramatically when I hit the tip. Oriya gasped, eyes widening and reached down, grabbing my upper arms in his strong hands.

"Do it to me. _Now._" His command terminated in a growl so sexual, it could substitute for an entire hour of foreplay. I eased my arms forward, out of his grip and pressed my hands into the curved pads of his pectorals, thumbing then tonguing at nipples that were already as firm as they were going to be. Oriya eased his thighs up off of the mattress and slid the lower half of his legs up over me, stretching out one arm to brace a hand into my upper back, keeping most of his weight off of me as he maneuvered himself into position. I lowered myself down along the line of his chest, wriggling my pelvis into place and sighing as Oriya's knees came up and framed my hips. He whimpered slightly as I wedged my fingers down underneath his tight bottom and sank them one by one into the exceptionally tense little hole.

"I know it hurts…" I whispered. I kissed his face all over, pecked his scrunched eyelids and used my spare hand to stroke the taught lines of his neck. "Sorry, baby. Haven't you… haven't you ever…"

"Once. The first time I was with a man. I was twenty-two… so it's been some time." He flexed back, groaning as I extended my fingers inside of him, pushing against the tight muscle. "Forgot how much it damn hurts."

"We don't have to do this." I brought my mouth down and kissed his pouty lips, holding my fingers steady inside of him. "I'm more than happy being the 'girly one'. We can turn this around right now. I really don't mind."

He shook his head from side to side, twisting his long hair in trails through the air. "No. I _really _wanna try this. With you. To have you inside of me-" His hands pushed down the heated flesh of my back and hooked about my buttocks, moving me up and down along his throbbing heat. I gasped in a shockingly high pitch as pleasure flooded up through my abdomen. "- after being inside you. I want… _all _sides of you. Every part of you. I don't want to miss a thing." He moved me down and eased his thighs up towards his stomach. I retrieved my fingers from the heat of his entrance and rested both arms down on his chest, exhaling a nervous breath as I pressed my cock up against his sensitive place.

"Okay." I said. I think I was more nervous than he was. "You ready?"

Oriya gave a shallow sort of half-nod and I felt his entire body relax. I guess it was now or never. I steeled myself for what was to come and ducked my pelvis backward, sort of inelegantly heaving myself inside of him. He gasped and dug his nails into the soft flesh of my butt, squirming his erect penis up against my stomach and chest. My throat clenched in and a deep rumbling snarl came lilting out as the tightness of his body encased me like an all-encompassing compression of lust. He clenched the muscles of his ass tightly and I brought myself to move, diving in and out of him with reckless abandon. To be honest, I was finding it difficult to set a pace. I hadn't had a chance to be dominant for a long time but Oriya was wonderfully patient with me. I wormed my hand down and wrapped it around his penis, stroking him up and down in time with the lunges of my pelvis. The friction was outstanding, the groans of pleasure coursing from Oriya's mouth nearly as phenomenal as the physical gratification itself. It didn't take long for those tremulations to start coursing down through my thighs again and I quivered all the way to my toes, curling them back and stretching my upper torso up as high as it could go when I felt my cock hit the edge. I was on the tip of my third orgasm that night, when Oriya grabbed me roughly about the waist and pulled me out of his body.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" I cried, feeling robbed and cheated. I had wanted to come inside of him; I had wanted to fill him with the proof of my desire. Oriya kissed me but didn't bother to placate me beyond this. His own passion had taken precedence over my personal feelings and I was put out about this for approximately two seconds until I realized just what this fervor had inspired in him.

Oriya pushed me, so that I landed on my back against the rumpled bed sheets. I bounced once and whilst my body was somewhat suspended in the air, Oriya hooked one hand beneath the small of my back and flipped me over onto my stomach. My face went a little red but then I was grinning, wild with enthusiasm. He was going to get in behind me and make me moan. This was the most exciting thing I could ever imagine. Being in this position with any of my previous partners had never brought me as much stimulation as it did in that moment.

Oriya slid his hand underneath my pelvic bone and lifted my abdomen off of the mattress, bringing my bottom up into the air. He ran his fingers down the back of one of my thighs and then parted my legs, bringing me into position on all fours. I felt his lips press down against one of the rounded cheeks before the mattress bent beneath his weight. He shifted onto his knees and held my ass steady as he positioned himself behind me. I was trembling all over, shaking from sexual exertion, from excitement and anticipation. I brought my cheek down to press against the mattress and had just enough time to grab a mouthful of the bed sheets between my teeth before I felt the hard shaft enter me again, lifting my hips at an obscure angle and twisting like a corkscrew inside of me. I shrieked from around the mauled material, vaguely aware of the saliva dribbling down my chin as Oriya lifted my waist off of the bed and held onto my thighs, fucking me doggy style. My fingernails were tearing cuts in the starch white sheets. I groaned as loud as I was able as my ass took him repeatedly, eating up the delicious length. I was panting as though I had run a marathon and I could feel my skin shivering, an entirely separate sensation from the trembling of my limbs. I found myself making this strange barking groan, a sound I had not imagined myself ever capable of producing. Oriya was emitting similarly primitive sounds of passion; one of his hands fisted in my hair, the other clutched the space between my legs as he pounded into me relentlessly. Sweat was streaming out through the pores of my skin and I thought I would faint at any given second. As though I were not suffering enough, Oriya went one further and suddenly grabbed a hold of my testicles, alternating every movement with his hips to every squeeze and massage with his palm and fingers. I squirmed against the twisted sheets, mewling without shame as he then traced the fibrous flesh surrounding my occupied entrance with the fingernail of his spare hand. Then he brought that hand back and started to heartily slap the cheeks of my ass, causing my cock to tremble with each blow. I drove my head into the sheets of the bed, twisting my face around in the wrinkled linen, trying desperately to alleviate myself of these indescribable feelings. It didn't seem natural… no one should have been this good! It was _too _good if that was possible… I felt as though I were about to lose my mind… And regardless of that fear, I was addicted to it. I wanted _more._

"Yes! Oriya, keep going…" I yelped, managing to push my torso up off of the bed. My head was hanging and I could see Oriya's knees positioned behind me through the gap in my legs. My ass stung from the slaps Oriya left behind but my healing ability kept kicking in, only escalating the pleasure of this erotic demonstration. He didn't hit me hard, each contact was more of a playful smack and it was entirely lovely. I looked back to that day I'd made my way to Kyoto on the bus; how I'd confessed to myself that I wasn't sure I could enjoy sex without an element of masochism to it. I knew now, that wasn't true. Even this minor act of masochism Oriya exerted against me wasn't damaging enough to be considered violent. He followed up every strike, with a tender rub to the injured muscle. It was pure sexual pleasure and it was something Oriya and I were indulging because we were pent up like a bunch of randy stoats. Once we'd passed this stage, I could see myself quite happily making love with him in a more civilized, compassionate fashion.

But until that time came… "Don't stop… Oriya… Ahh…" I scrambled for purchase against the sheets and found none. My toes curled again as the erotic sensation increased inside of me. He was so big and full and he stretched out my cavities to full capacity. Part of me ached but a larger part of me would have been content to see him remain there forever, if that was possible.

Oriya eventually stopped spanking me and used both hands then to pull my buttocks back tightly, pressing even deeper into me then before. I yelped eardrum fracturing high as the other mans big erect length smacked into my prostate, shooting additional pleasure up into my brain like a resulting dust cloud. One of my legs snapped back in reflexive response to the stirring of the nerves deep inside of me. My head tilted, hair rolling down across my shoulders as I braced my weight on my aching hands. I looked over my shoulder, meeting Oriya's eye with a dreamy, lust filled smile. It was apparently more than enough to drive Oriya completely over the edge and he then literally threw himself on top of me, arms braced on either side of my body and driving into me with all the strength he possessed. He was rough and he moved against me like an animal, driven into a mad mating frenzy by the full moon or something. I kept waiting for my butt to break, I kept waiting for the novelty to wear off but the shear, tormenting pleasure never ebbed for a second. He had his teeth in my shoulder and I'd started to bleed but he licked at the small wound he'd made, even as it healed. He kissed the back of my neck, nibbled the lobe of my ear, and rubbed his chin into the tangled mess of my hair. I felt ready to collapse back down onto the mattress and just let him drive me into the linen when he had a sudden change of heart about how this might best work. The next thing I knew, Oriya was pulling me back until my legs were hanging over the side of the bed and he checked out of me momentarily in order to position my body just right. I should have been grateful for the chance to rest but to my immense surprise, I wasn't the least bit relieved. I wanted him back in me. So much, it couldn't happen fast enough! I whined at the lack of attention but was soon rewarded for my (very little) patience when Oriya leant over my body, his chest pressed to my back for a moment and hair spilling down over both it and my shoulders. I took a moment to catch my breath and Oriya used this opportunity to brace his arms on either side of me, fisting his hands into the blankets.

"Hold on…" He panted and I had to wonder just to what anomalous lengths this mans stamina went.

I did as I was told, ten times the panting mess that he was. I grabbed a hold of Oriya's arms above the elbow, hanging on for dear life, wondering if I was going to survive another onslaught. "I feel like… I'm going to die… you'll kill me with these things you do…"

I don't know if Oriya heard me or not because seconds later he was bucking against me again, penetrating so deeply that he actually suspended my lower body completely before settling into a pleasurable, if erratic rhythm. As we moved together, Oriya pressed a kiss into the side of my face and then rested his chin on my shoulder.

"Honey… want me to say your name?" He barely got it out.

I gasped as he touched me deep. "I want you to scream it." I provided some most likely unnecessary assistance in this task, arching my back as far as I was able and then thrusting back against him with all his might, tightening the individual muscles in my anus as I did. The friction threw Oriya into orgasm and he came screaming my name.

I lay there, half sobbing, half panting, tasting blood from where I had bitten clean into my bottom lip. Oriya's cock started to soften inside of me and I pinched it tight, wanting to hold on and keep him there, maddening though making love with him was. I wasn't sure that I had emerged from it with my sanity intact. Was I insane now? I felt the world was a very different place to what it was when I had left it.

Oriya panted for a while before reluctantly retrieving his limp cock from the depths of my considerably swollen entrance. I whimpered softly, my body starting to slowly slide down the bed, my strength almost completely evaporated. Oriya picked me up and lay me out on top of the sheets, crawling sleepily up alongside me, kissing me wherever his lips fell; the backs of my knees, my thighs, the soles of my feet, my loins, my hands, the scars on my inside elbows, everywhere. His mouth found mine and then he slowly kissed me down from there, taking my cock into his mouth when he reached it and finishing me off in a matter of seconds. I came into his mouth with every ounce of strength left in me and then the same thing happened again. I experienced that brief blackout but this time, I passed through that and moved right on into the period of sleep, such was my exhaustion.

Though, if I thought myself finished for the night, I was one sadly mistaken Guardian of Death. A few hours later, Oriya got up to go to the toilet and the sight of him moving back and forth across the room brought out the tender side of me. When he arrived back at the bed I was waiting for him with arms wide open and rather than the aerodynamically robust butt breaking escapade we had previously embarked on, we opted for a more lazy and tender expression of affection. He lay on top of me and our arms went around each other and then he was inside of me and we made love, more so for the intimacy of the act than for the sexual gratification. That had been what the previous two sessions had covered. We kissed and touched and whispered to one another of tender things and my heart felt the warmth of it, even more than my body did. When it ended, he stayed inside of me and I was so happy I could have cried for it.

Three times in one night was none too shabby. Especially for an old bloke like me!

It must have been around 6:30 am, when Oriya's stirring brought me out of unconsciousness. I was facing away from him, having a bit of Me time on the opposite side of the bed but I could hear and feel his movements easily. The only other sounds that could have competed with him were the cheerful chirping of some crazy early morning birds and the rivers ever-constant trickling flow in the near distance. The mattress bent and then lifted as Oriya stretched wearily, smacking his lips and uttering a small complaint, no doubt from the varying aches and pains acquired during the night. As for me, my butt felt as though it had been thrown into a weed whacker, prodded with an electric cattle rod, pulled inside out, then set to rights and reattached to my body all without anesthetic. If anyone should have been complaining around here, it should have damn well been _me._

But I didn't feel like complaining. Not in the least. I was damn sore and damn _sure _I would be walking crooked until my healing ability kicked in but I was supremely chuffed to say the least. If you subtracted my ass from the equation the rest of my body felt tingly all over, that brilliant post-coital buzz I usually had after making love, times fifty. It wasn't something I could do every night, (Maybe every _second _night, if I piled up on the vitamins) but it was a nice way to kick off a physical relationship. It had been an exhausting affair though and I wasn't yet recovered enough to even react to Oriya's awakening, so I chose not to move and shut my eyes, snuggling down against the pillow and willing myself back to sleep again. With any luck, he would sneak off quietly to do his early morning training regime and I could catch a few extra hours kip uninterrupted by temptation. But it seemed he wasn't quite ready to skip on out just yet.

I felt him roll over and he was no doubt looking at me, watching me doze, which was terribly romantic but I couldn't relax for the concern that he would try to initiate something. Some people like to make love in the morning. I'm not one of them. Morning means gummy teeth, bad breath, mussed hair, craggy features and black bags under the eyes. Morning is for sleeping in and _only _sleeping in. In fact, I distinctly disliked being touched up in the morning. It usually made me quite crabby and I didn't think I could even exempt Oriya from this norm, beautiful and charming though he was. Watching me sleep was all well and romantic but I kind of just wanted him to piss off so I could go back to sleep and not concern myself with the thought of his hand snaking up between my legs.

Oriya didn't yet have that in mind, though I was sure it wasn't too far away. He was instead more interested in using the light to his advantage and I felt a slight chill go through my body as he slowly pulled the sheet down off of me, all so that he could take a more comprehensive look at my body. I felt his hand stroke up my butt and had to actively force myself to steer clear of the pleasure it afforded me. Making it just that little extra difficult as always, Oriya then decided to test the waters by scooting closer and nuzzling my cheek affectionately, one hand mooching between my legs and delving down through the pubic hair to cup around my testicles. I elegantly responded by snapping my thighs together like a blunt pair of scissors and then slamming my heel backwards into Oriya's shin.

"Morning, Kitten." The brunette calmly commented, though he did retract his hand as quickly as one of those 'Whack-a-moles' you see at the sideshow carnivals. "That's weird… I can usually see that sort of thing coming…"

I retrieved the sheet from where Oriya had considerately bunched it around my ankles and hoisted it back up to my chin, ensuring that my bottom was safely tucked back out of sight. "Still sleeping… too tired to play now…" I yawned with such bravado that it nearly strained my jaw muscles. "And why are you calling me Kitten?"

"Did _you _hear the noises you made last night?" Oriya said provocatively, his hand petting deftly at my backside. "And who said anything about playing right now? I was just looking for a bit of a… cuddle."

"Oh bullshit." I snapped, wriggling about beneath the sheets, enjoying how the material felt against my bare skin. "Where is your hand right now?"

Oriya took a moment to check."…On your bottom."

"Case in point: Men never want to cuddle." I patted his hand, trying to pry the fingers away without entirely waking myself up to do it. "Cuddling is a woman thing and a more sensitive queer boy thing."

"That's not true." Oriya said indignantly. "I like to… cuddle." He kept saying cuddle like it was a foreign word. "I like to _cuddle_ a damn lot."

"Then don't grab my ass as a means of conveying it." I guess I wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon. I could already feel a slight hangover starting to take effect.

His hand didn't go away but continued to rub my fanny in a gentle circular motion. "I wasn't grabbing, I was just… touching."

"And the difference?" God, who I wouldn't kill for an aspirin.

"The difference is that it's affectionate." He leant over to plant a kiss below my ear. "Sorry. I guess it's been some time… I might be letting myself get carried away."

"I think so and I urge you to keep it up!" I yawned again and snuggled down deep into the blankets so that only the upper portion of my face was visible. "So sleepy…"

Oriya's voice dissolved into an impish tone. "I'm not surprised. You were a busy boy last night." He gave my bottom a departing squeeze and then swung his legs out of bed and faced away from me. I wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon and the opportunity was just too tempting to pass up. I looked over my shoulder as Oriya climbed out of bed and stretched his arms above his head, drawing out his cramped and aching muscles. I took it all in like a breath of fresh air, eyes grazing across the shifting expanse of muscles in his back, the sinews of flesh rippling down over the arched bones of his shoulder blades and hips. And that bottom… Damn, why wasn't there ever a camera around when I needed one?

… Hold the phone…

While he was distracted, I fished about on the floor until I came across the place I had set my mobile phone during the night. Upon hearing the mechanized snap that was intended to replicate a camera shutter, Oriya spun around just in time to catch me holding the phone up.

"That thing better not have a camera attachment." He said in mock warning.

"Aww, don't be upset!" I cooed, flashing my most winning smile. "It's just a little memento! I gotta have some evidence that I managed to bone a supermodel, otherwise no one's bound to believe me."

He laughed that deep rusty laugh I was already so in love with. "I ain't no supermodel, mate." He sat down on the side of the bed and began pointing out his faults to me as he listed them. "I got split ends and freckles on my nose and brown spots on my chest. One of my eyes is bigger than the other and this nose of mine; it hooks slightly to the left." He ran a finger down the line of his nose, which now I noticed _did _lean slightly to one side. "I broke it doing martial arts when I was a kid and the plastic surgeon did a shoddy job of straightening it up again. I'm a very normal, very average human being. My only saving grace is that I work out a lot and that takes attention away from my more obvious faults." He glanced towards the bedside table, checking the time. "Speaking of which, I really should be getting on with it."

I dropped the phone back down to the floor and used my fingers to stroke up and down the line of Oriya's back. "Oriya no… don't go outside, it's still mostly dark." He'd woken me up good and proper and now he here was preparing to welsh on me? I had already bypassed the grumpy waking up stage and had passed well into drowsy morning pillow talk cuddly wuddly stage. "Why don't you just come back to bed and put your big beefy arms around me?"

He gave me a weird look over his shoulder."… As… appealing as I'm sure that's supposed to be… I'm sorry but I can't comply. I gotta uphold my routine." He twisted around and started to sort through his underwear drawer. "Unless of course you _want _me to get fat and lose all this muscle?"

I'm sorry to say that I had a shallow moment."…Then again… physical activity is also very important."

"Yes it is." He said smirking smarmily at me before returning to his valiant search for underwear. I watched him with mounting anticipation, blinking through the slight headache-laying siege to my brain. I was in a very lovey dovey mood all of a sudden. My body felt tender and extra sensitive, as though the slightest touch would alight each and every last one of my nerves. But I was tired. More to the point I felt… drained. Lethargic. Like I had no energy at all. I haven't ever been a morning person but this was bizarre even for me. Passionate night of love making aside. Oriya on the other hand appeared bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"My _god_ you have a great bum." I mused after a good minute of just watching him. "I didn't get to see much of it last night what with you hogging the steering wheel and all." I reached out and ran my hand down the visible portion of Oriya's ass, marveling at the taught muscle, the smooth flesh… "But that's weird… your skin is tanned but… you're equally dark on your bottom. You've got no tan lines… is this your natural skin tone?"

"No, no. I like to avoid tan lines when possible so I sunbathe in the nude." Oriya fished a pair of suitable underpants out of the drawer and slung them over his arm.

I stared with my mouth wide open, unable to shake the image of him lying naked out in the blazing sun from my head.

Oriya noticed my expression and winked slowly, licking his lips in a purposefully seductive manner. "Maybe you can join me one day and we can do something about the outline on your butt."

The cheek of him! I stuck my tongue out to show just what I thought of his unnecessary observation."_I _think tan lines are sexy. So did my last boyfriend." It had actually been his idea for me to sunbathe in my thong. Honestly, the things I will do for men sometimes astounds me. I guess at heart I'm a truly tiny man, if I feel the need to alter myself just to suit the desires of others.

Oriya clearly didn't appreciate me bringing up my ex because he gave me a look that was rather haughty in the definition. "Was your ex-boyfriend able to fuck you unconscious several times during the course of one night?" He said, lowering his voice to a husky drawl. My face lit up like a Tiki torch.

"I don't know _what_ that was about… I've never blacked out during sex before." I chuckled softly, scraping my hair back out of my eyes. "You were just… so damn good. It felt like I was going to explode if something didn't happen. I guess my brain shut down in order to protect my body from experiencing the full extremity of what was happening." Seemed like a fairly sound analysis to me.

"Geez, I don't know if I'm _that_ good…" Oriya said doubtfully, making his way over to the cupboard and rummaging through for his exercise gear. "None of my ex-girlfriends ever reacted that way."

"How about ex-boyfriends?" I asked carefully, not entirely sure that I wanted to hear him affirm that he'd had past relationships with other men. Girls I could handle because they were in an entirely separate league to me, so technically they were not competition. But Oriya was tactfully honest and he chose not to elaborate any further than simply confirming my thoughts.

"None of them passed out either." He stated, picking up his since abandoned yukata and sliding his arms into the sleeves, leaving it untied so that it gaped at the front. I bit my lip, musing over his revelation thoughtfully, not at all minding the view he was giving me. Knowing now that I was the only one who had ever reacted such a way, made me feel kind of wimpy.

" … I must be getting old." I concluded with a shake of my head. But that didn't make me feel any better either. "Nah, let's just pretend that you're that damn good."

He smiled suggestively at me. "I can go along with that."

I propped myself up on my elbow and braced my fingers against my temple, smiling with drowsy affection as Oriya finally completed his search for his training attire. "You were right though. That _was _the best sex I've ever had… not that it's been much of a horse race admittedly."

He stared at me for a long time and I sensed that there was something bothering him, evident in his body posture, if not his immaculately controlled facial expressions. With a downward glance towards the floor and a departing tug at his obi sash, he emitted a deep sigh, the line of his eyes diverted in all and any direction but my own. Oriya wasn't one for blushing but there were other signs he exhibited that indicated his guilt just as dutifully as other people's eyes and facial expressions might. I waited for him to speak up, to make some indication as to these internalizations that seemed to concern him so. Perhaps here and now in the light of day, free from the influence of alcohol, he was regretting our passionate exchange the night before? Maybe he was embarrassed by the fact that we had both gotten equally carried away and had done things usually seen only in the more extreme of adult movies? I felt a sharp twinge in the region of my heart and suddenly found myself wishing for the security and modesty of my robe, since left abandoned by the filth-streaked window. I certainly hoped that Oriya wasn't intending to leave that mess for Mrs. Koneko to clean. I would have to sneak in later and wipe it down when I had the chance.

"Oriya…?" My voice was so temperate and reluctant. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the truth of his feelings, if the honesty would only harm my delicate state of bliss. "What is it?" I sat up, pulling the sheet to my chin to keep myself covered, despite the morning warmth already dribbling in through the walls. "Are you regretting what we did, is that it?"

His eyes snapped back into alignment with the direction of his face and he stared at me as though I were absurd. "What? No! No, honey not in the least!" He crossed the room in a heartbeat and slid back atop the mattress, pulling an arm around my shoulders. The sheet slid free from my body as he pulled me onto his lap, trailing his knuckles up and down along the side of my thigh. "Last night was perfect… You have no idea how long I've been thirsting for your body against mine, the sound of your voice as we made love." He gazed down into my eyes, running his finger up along my face and through my hair, stroking it back behind my ear with an adoration I had never seen anyone, not anyone ever, direct towards me. "I want to tell you something… something I've wanted to tell you for so long." He bent forward and kissed my mouth, bringing his bottom lip slightly open so that we could initiate an intimacy in the act and then set me back down upon the mattress, hoisting himself out of bed. I watched him with mounting confusion, feeling anticipatory emotions whelming through my chest and an uncertain waver of disappointment, stemming from a passing hope that he had been just moments from confessing his eternal and undying love to me. But he instead crossed to the credenza and with an awkward glance back over his shoulder, slid open the top drawer and started to rustle through it. I had an absurd fleeting thought that his hand was about to emerge clutching a jewelry box, there within residing an engagement ring. I nearly squealed like a girl, before reminding myself that a fortnight was far too soon for him to be proposing. Never mind the tepid cold flush that snared my heart and lungs when that hand instead emerged from the drawer clutching two familiar, long thought misplaced, sealed bags. With a brief moment of hesitation he held them up high for me to clearly see and then tossed them onto the bed near my feet. Even without my glasses, I could make out the flaking of skin contained within the plastic folds of each bag. I looked down upon them, positively mortified by what I was witnessing and with deliberately neglectful naivety, reached out to pick them up.

"These… these are the samples I was missing." I stared at him with undecided emotion, knowing what he had done but not entirely wanting to hear him admit to it. "You took them. You took them out of my damn medical kit?!"

He took a deep shuddering breath, his expression dissolving rapidly into distress. "Yes. But I was going to return them." His hands implored me desperately. "I've already returned the semen samples."

Sublime anger welled up inside of me and I felt my features rot into a pure snarl, my lips curling back over my upper row of teeth. "Why did you take them in the first place…?" I demanded, climbing out of the bed and storming up to Oriya, so furious that I didn't even bother to throw on my yukata. He wasn't enjoying the view right then that was for sure. My expression must have been severe because he actually took a step away. "What on earth were you thinking?! What could it…" I grinded to a halt in my onslaught, eyes dragging down from his as it dramatically dawned on me. Something clicked inside of my mind. Something snapped at such a deep profound level that it near shattered my heart. "I know what this is about… This is about Tsuzuki, isn't it?" I prodded his chest with my finger. "That night Muraki phoned you… I should have known better than to think that guy was simply doing me a favor. He asked you to do this… didn't he?"

He couldn't meet my eyes and his face was so deeply shamed that I knew the answer before he spoke. His chest swelled with a tired, regretful sigh. "Yes." I felt the depth of regret in his admittance but it gave me no solace. My eyes teared up; the degree of the truth was so painful. "He told me that if I delayed the case and kept you here in Kyoto… he wouldn't kill anymore."

"He told Tsuzuki the exact same thing." My eyebrows shot up into the lines of my forehead. "Oh my God… _Tsuzuki_… Now it makes sense! Muraki wanted me out of the way so that he could have Tsuzuki all to himself. He must have realized Tsuzuki wouldn't have risked going to anyone besides me for help. All this… just so he could get to Tsuzuki?!"

"That seems to be the case, yes." Oriya confessed reluctantly. He seemed as disgusted by this arrangement as I was but I wasn't about to grant him any degree of lenience on account of our shared antipathy. I narrowed my eyes, reminding him just who was the subject of culpability in this instance.

"Did Muraki tell you to sleep with me too? To win me over so I'd stick around longer, was that all part of your sick games?" I launched myself directly into the space between his arms and struck out with both my fists simultaneously. I was so fired up, I didn't think about where I was aiming and went straight for his chest, which turned out to be a big mistake. I gave it a good go, predisposed to resent him for the admission I was certain was coming but it was like punching a wall of concrete. Oriya let me take my aggression out on him for a moment before tiring of my attempts and grabbing me by one of my wrists. He spun me around, pinning my back against the line of his body and bracing his arms around my chest and abdomen respectively. I struggled and screamed in meaningless wordless rage, my movements resulting to no avail. Each struggle on my behalf caused considerable discomfort and even pain, which only served to make me angrier.

I wanted to hurt Oriya for what he had let Muraki bring us to, for the manipulation I had endured at the hands of these men and my own feelings. For betraying me… and most of all for betraying _her._ Thinking of her made me all the more furious and I renewed my attempts to engage him on a violent level. I wanted to keep on punching him because it was better to direct my attentions elsewhere then my own troubled thoughts.

"Damn you!" I cried, trying to stamp on his toes. He squeezed me harder against his chest in response. "Damn you, you two-faced _prick_!"

"Now you just calm down!" That last comment had apparently been too much for him to tolerate. "Calm down and we'll talk but there's no point going on with this if you assume my intentions before I have even expressed them."

It took a minute but his words had a gradual soothing effect on me, just as they always did. My energy levels, already drained and lethargic, petered away to non-existent and my body lagged in his grip. He hesitated upon registering my surrender but assessed my state as sedate enough to chance his lips upon my ear. His breath was ragged but not from the same reason as mine I wagered. Fighting a battle with him was like fighting off my own past. No matter how I struggled, it was still there and could not be pushed aside.

"Are you angry at me because you feel that I have betrayed and tricked you?" He asked in that same husky tone that made me shiver all over. "Or are you angry at yourself for feeling this way about me, when you know it should have been the last thing on your mind?"

I dropped my chin down against my chest and just panted, not possessing the energy nor the will to reply. I knew he was right. I was angry but not just at him and Muraki. I had been weak… I had let myself get carried away in my emotions and concocted a means of salving my wounds by burying them deep beneath a prospective romance. I had accelerated my emotions and extended my degree of affection towards Oriya more than was natural because I had been facing a tragedy too great for my weak heart to cope with.

I was more at fault than anyone and I couldn't figure it out for myself. Not until Oriya had all but rubbed my nose in it.

Oriya granted me my shamed silence and rested his chin on my shoulder, clenching his fingers about my waist and arm respectively.

"I'm sorry." He soothed, planting a small kiss into the side of my neck. "I'll admit, when your assignment first started out, yes, I manipulated you. I used your attraction to me to divert your attention from what you should have been doing. I thought it was for the greater good, don't you get it?"

Once again I could feel rather than hear the sincerity in his voice and that old fashioned compassion was always a welcome change to me. I could feel his arms making slow-drugged movements across my waist and arm, could feel his body moving against mine as he breathed. It was a blessed welcome release to be awarded this decadent indication. His long warm fingers gently soothed my hair away from the left side of my face and then I felt his lips just at the nape. He softly pecked the skin below my ear and my eyes slid shut for applause at the delicious sensation. His hand pressed against the crown of my head, so his lips were now set atop the shell of my ear. He was attempting to seduce me away from the topic. To annul my anger in the same manner that he had distracted me from my task in the first instance. This time, I refused to relent, easily tempted as I was prone to being.

"Playing with my heart is worth Muraki's empty promise, huh?" I was surprised my lips didn't freeze from the cold tenor and Oriya sure as hell didn't miss it. His lips released my ear but his warm mouth stayed in close proximity.

"I haven't played with your heart. That's the point. I know I used you." I felt his chin press down against the crown of my head. "I did a terrible thing in going along with this and the guilt has been driving me insane. But when I saw you in that room, examining the bodies of my girls… I didn't have to pretend anymore. My feelings for you are very real."

I tugged free of his hold and spun to face him; my eyes tearing up so furiously that my vision became doubly blurred, rendering Oriya's face into an indiscernible mass of blots. "I wanted to believe that more than anything! But now- now I don't see how I possibly can!"

I couldn't see his eyes but I could hear the injection of tears in his voice. Dear God… I couldn't deny that he wasn't at the very least frightened by his prospect of losing my trust. If not _me _entirely"You have to believe me. _Please. _You _have _to."

"Why?" I blinked back my furious tears. "Why should I?"

"Because I'm falling in love with you."

I felt my features literally contort and my chest ache with the agony of several skipped heartbeats. My mouth slumped wide as my vision cleared, assembling Oriya's beautifully sincere expression back before my eyes. He looked frightened and tears broke his own eyes. They said beyond doubt that he longed for me.

"…_What_?!" It burst from me like a whispered screech and if I thought the sounds I had made the previous night were strange, there were nothing compared to the garbled mess forthcoming.

He came toward me and brought my fingers down along the cup of his palms, urging me gently towards him. "Every second I spend with you, I feel it growing in my heart. I don't understand why it's happened this quickly but I think you were always meant to come to me. I think you were meant for me, somehow." He leant forward, pressing his lips against my forehead, thumbs rubbing up over my knuckles. "If you only knew how good you feel to me. Being around you… it's like you've lit a candle in my chest. There's warmth and light where before there was only cold searing darkness. I was dead until you came here."

I felt burgeoning warmth flare up through my body and I pressed my nose into the curve of his cheek, caressing the lines of his hands with my fingernails."I understand… that's how I feel too. You have no idea how strong my feelings for you are. You could beat me, you could break my arm and I'll still long for you. I'll still want you… But I have to trust you. That's more important than anything. You understand?"

He cupped my face between his hands and forced me to meet his eyes. "Then trust me. _Please. _Believe me; It's broken my heart what I have done. I want to know who hurt my girls so badly it tears into my brain. The only reason I did what I did was because my girls _were _dead and there was no changing that. But if I could do this one good thing, if I could keep anyone else from dying… do you understand? This time, I could do something in order to save lives. That's important, isn't it?"

"Of course it's important." I said, pressing my hands down over his. "But… you have no idea what this case has been like for me." I sighed. I made a decision. "I can trust you… right? I mean, you already know two of my most shameful secrets. Maybe it's time you learnt of my proudest one."

"I'd like that." He whispered. I stepped back out of his hands and made my way over to the crumpled form of my yukata and pulled it on, composing myself as much as possible before turning back to him.

"Should I tell you then, why I have cried here within Kokakuro? Why I cried for those girls that should have meant nothing personally to me?"

"It's because you're a gentle soul." He concluded, smiling as though there was no other reason why I behaved the way that I did. I shook my head in dismayed return.

"No. That's not why. I haven't been crying because those girls lost their lives." I strengthened my chin and raised my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze with strong resolve. If he was to know the full extent of my neglect, he would not hear it from a weak mouth. This truth, this unintentional secret was truly my proudest mistake and had remained so for thirty-three years. "I was crying… because I thought that my daughter… had lost hers."

Oriya's eyes shot wide. "… Your _daughter._" He literally gasped as the obvious answer leapt out at him from where it had surely crouched in speculative musings within his mind since my earliest days here. "_Seki_."

**- EC-**

**Watari: **Whoo! I feel so hot! (Faints)

**Oriya: **I feel highly disturbed that we actually read through that with these two staring over our shoulders! (Points to Saki and Count, who look very content and romantic)

**Count: **Awww... you two were so cute...

**Oriya: **You shut up, Perve-boy!

**Tsuzuki: **(Pokes head back in) Say, is it over yet? Is it safe to come in?

**Watari: **(Revives) Never. Go away so we can have the post chapter discussion without you sticking your finger down your throat and rolling your eyes.

**Muraki: **(Comes back in) Never mind, I know for a fact that NaPap is way too tired for her normal 'after-fic-discussion-with-the-characters' so she is just going to go ahead and conclude everything here and now.

**Tatsumi: **That is terribly lazy of her.

**Saki: **Indeed it is. But that's our NaPap. And I guess after such a long update, she has a right to feel tired.

**NaPap: **(Sticks head back in) You know it! (Waves at readers) Hope you enjoyed the porn everyone! Please review me! Give me lots of reviews! I know that there are at least a hundred people reading this and for the amount of work I put into it, I expect more reviews! It's kind of like writing a bestseller and only getting paid ten bucks for it!

**Tatsumi: **That will never happen with ME backing you financially, Miss NaPap.

**NaPap: **And that's why you get the biggest throw cushion on the floor, Tatsumi. (Waves at readers again) And I know I haven't gotten back to my reviewers yet and I'm super sorry but I just wanted to get the next chapter up lickity split! I promise I'll get back to you all as soon as I'm online next but I'm so tired right now, it's all I can do to make this good for nothing excuse of a vow. (Head swoons from tiredness) So, thanks for reading as usual and I hope you enjoyed it and that not too many people got nosebleeds!

**Watari: **I know I did! (Holds up piles of bloodied tissues)

**Muraki: **Put those in some sort of biochemical waste disposal unit, if you please. The last thing we need is all your various blood infections floating about the office.

**Watari: **I don't have blood infections! I'm as clean as soap!

**Muraki: **I wouldn't have unprotected sex with you even if you were skipped to me across a pool of disinfectant.

**Watari: **Oh yeah? Well you're not that hot either, Mad Eye chipmunk cheeks! Your shoulders are too wide in the anime and you're voiced by a mad American Weasal!

**Muraki: **That's very rich, coming from the gentleman who was voiced by James from Team Rocket!

**Watari: **_Eric Stuart_ and that voice leant me a delightfully eccentric quirky air! ... Even if it wasn't all that sexy... still sexier than the mad American Weasal!

**Oriya: **And they're off and running. So much for the Post-Lemon sex I was hoping to have...

**Tsuzuki: **Ah, I don't care. Let them fight. The longer they carry on, the more time there is before NaPap forces me to give up my virginity. (Shudders) Eek, that's pretty soon too! Save me Tatsumi!

**Tatsumi: **I shall certainly try my best, Tsuzuki.

**NaPap: **Well, that's it for this update, ya'll! Hope it was fun and all that but now, I gotta go sleep for a few days! Oh and buy myself some of those nicotene patches. Please review and I'll try and get the next chapter up as soon as I can! Love you all! (Huggles)


	26. Tsuzuki: Death Precedes us

**_Dark Adaptation_**

**Disclaimer: **Yami no Matsuei is the property of Yoko Matsushita, not the property of NaPap. And don't think I'm not suing!

**A/N: **Sorry about the delay folks! Working full time and the like takes up a lot of – well, time! So I hope you can forgive me! Now, before we get into the meaty center of the story, there are a couple of notations I must make.

First, this is only part one of Tsuzuki's installation and it is so humongous, that I haven't yet written the second part! Which is a shame, because the second part is the fucking lemon!

**Muraki: **Bitch! I stab you!

If I had a dollar for every person who ever said that to me… the second note I must make, is that some severe editing has gone into the earlier chapters of DA and some parts of the plot have been changed around completely. It is nothing that you need to go back over but I thought it would be a good idea to let my lovely readers know, just in case they were interested. The third point I must make is extremely important because it concerns me directly. (That was sarcastic somewhat). Aye, I have decided that after all these years of being NaPap, I am changing my frame.

**Tsuzuki: **Thank Christ! Because, no offense or anything but that name really sucked.

Yes, _thankyou _very much, Tsuzuki. N e way readers, the reason I am changing from frame is because of the history I have with the first one and it wasn't really me that wanted to use that frame in the first place. It was sort of decided for me. But now, I want to use a name that I actually picked and liked and has a certain meaning for me. So, you may now all refer to me by the non de plume Hickock.

**Watari: **Why Hickock? Do you live in Abilene or something?

No… but Abilene is the second name I chose for myself when all the Catholic folks got to pick their new middle names. Thus, Hickock. Plus, it was also the nickname my favorite character from Blood Games, my all time beloved Laymon novel, called the main character. Now, enough about that. I'll try desperately to get the second half of Tsuzuki's addition up as quickly as possible. (I had better or I think Jollyolly's going to go Hitler on my ass, to say the least). That being said, I do hope you all enjoy but there are some warnings I must impress upon you before we get started.

This chapter contains particularly bad language and some extremely disturbing scenes. Almost moreso than anything I have written thus far. If you are particularly queasy or easily disturbed, I might steer clear from the third quarter of this chapter. I can't say where exactly because it will ruin the plot. But a fair warning; it is not very nice.

All right, enough of that pish, on ya go. Happy reading!

**"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." **_**Macbeth -**_**Act IV scene 1.**

**_Death Precedes us with a Knowing Smile_**

**Part One: The Serpent that devours Sorrow**

"One of the most terrifying phenomena is the human mind gone mad. But what is madness? And what is sanity? Is reality as we perceive it or as something else entirely – something beyond our wildest nightmares?" – **Stephen King on the novelette 'Come and go mad' by Frederic Brown.**

**Tsuzuki**

The mind is mad. Perhaps my mind madder than most but the full extremity of the mind itself is startling to behold, if we are to say the very least. There are no boundaries to the mind. It can change you completely. Can morph your body in ways you never imagined possible. The mind can sink you and raise you and devour you entirely. It can abduct your senses and fabricate a non-reality, something that seems so real you have no choice but to believe what you are being confronted with.

The mind can sometimes shelter you. Hide you in shadow, nurse you in mothering arms, submerge your fears. In your mind, the labyrinths are vast and to traverse them more treacherous than any true adventure upon which the physical body might embark.

The mind is the ultimate super power. Within your mind, anything is feasible. And madness is perhaps the greatest poison of all.

There is a saying. In Latin. "Amantes sunt amentes". It means; Lovers are mad. No doubt Muraki and I could be well applied to such an analogy. But are all lovers not mad in their own unique fashion? Is it not a despairing madness to love so passionately, you cannot escape from the sensation? That the guilt of such yearning could consume the entirety of your essence, pervade your common sense and dictate every minor manner of deed that you embark upon. When in love, when one is a lover, that second person, your loved one, is always present in your mind, if not in your physical presence. Such is the dramatic power of the human mind. Omniscient to the one to whom it belongs. It is the God of the individual. The governing presence.

I read a short horror story in a magazine once. The name of the author escapes me but the title of the piece is distressingly clear. "Come. Come and go mad." The main character, a reporter, infiltrates an asylum to uncover the truth behind the treatment of the patients. He poses as a madman himself and is gradually brought under such scrutiny from the presiding doctors that he begins to question his own sanity. Is this a trap? Did his boss actually intend to have him institutionalized, under the guise of an investigation? He begins to think on other issues. He considers things too deeply. He fractures his mind and gradually cracks it wide open. He understands the truth of life itself and learning the meaning of life, is far too encompassing for the fragile human mind to understand.

"Where am I going?" The man asks.

"Insane." The voice answers. But is the voice his own? Is it someone, or some_thing _else? Who can say? Does a madman know that he is insane? I can say with certainty that he does not. I realized the devastating trauma to my mind and hence my body, suffering from the continuous onslaught of my cruel and weak mind. But I believed only that I was severely sick, suffering from devastating depression. I didn't know much of anything at the time. I was so doped up on drugs and my own toxic misery; I had few precious moments of rationalization. Many times had that urge overwhelmed me and I ached to free myself from my wretched never-ending existence.

This short story theorized that when the human mind encroaches the entire truth, whatever that truth might be defined as, it physically cannot rise above the summit. People who came to that stage instead evolve towards a quiet creeping madness. Hence the reason for that saying; 'A genius is one step away from a madman.' And then the novelette ends with the provoking words; "It doesn't matter. Don't you understand? Nothing matters!"

That story had frightened me. I remember clearly setting the magazine aside, sinking my head down into my hands and quietly weeping in mourning for how those fleeting eight years of insanity had consumed the entirety of my existence, ever since I had opened my wrists. Since dying, my life had been saved. I felt that I had been spared something. Had escaped, found the easy way out. But my internal self-opinion hadn't been much better.

One thing I have come to understand better than anyone else is just how fragile the human mind truly is. Our thoughts, our sanity and our peace of mind are as delicate as porcelain, swept astray as freely as a feather from the precarious tip of a cliff. It can happen in a second, a fleeting moment. In the blink of an eye, your entire frame of mind can shatter to a thousand pieces and some of these shards can slip away into darkness, never recovered. Never remembered. Forever lost.

The mind is a delicate, precious thing. It is cowardly and when eventually broken it totters on unsteady legs for the rest of its' days. The mind despairs and betrays the heart, dragging every part of you down. And madness is the serpent that slides from the darkness to devour the grief, the sorrow and the sanity.

I was a madman once. I had existed through a period of darkness for eight long years, only regaining consciousness long enough to attempt suicide. Again and again until I had eventually succeeded.

Hadn't I?

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Hisoka and I had been waiting in line at the Cinnapon for about ten minutes. I was humming and jigging along to 'Somebody to Love', which was blasting out, from the Walkman of the kid standing in front of us. I'll admit, I was in a pretty good mood. I felt like I had heaps of energy since my exchange with Muraki in the bedroom. Yet at the same instance I was swarmed with guilt over the whole debacle. Under Hisoka's ignorant nose we had performed that very act which Muraki may very well have enacted upon the poor boy in order to shame and humiliate him. To think that I had taken such pleasure in it! I knew that soon or later I would have no choice but to confront this serious moral issue but at the time I was quite content to stick it in the 'Too hard' basket and worry about it later. That had always been my greatest fault, I suppose. I am lazy in most matters, be they physical or mental. But never had I been so neglectful of moral issues! The only rationalization I can make is that I was enjoying the dramatic process of the whole thing. The danger of it… it was the first thing that had made me feel truly alive in literally years. And my feelings for Muraki… whatever they were, however wrong they were, they seemed to complete me. He instilled a sense of confidence in my soul, made me feel desirable and worthwhile.

I knew that I was an attractive man. I've never had any misgivings about that. But I'd never particularly cared because being handsome hadn't done a great deal for me through the passing years. I'd only had a few relationships and only one or two really serious partnerships. And even these had never progressed to a sexual level. Muraki had already seen more of me than anyone else besides myself had. (If we casually ignore the one or two rare occasions I may have stripped at the Count's cherry blossom viewing parties but come one… I was under the influence. No one could hold that against me). What was truly depressing about the whole thing was that the one person I had lusted for to this degree of intensity was Muraki! Since the moment we had first met, no one could deny that we had a bizarre unfathomable kind of chemistry. The line between hate and love was obscure at the best of times and the line between hate and lust even tragically thinner.

You couldn't deny that Muraki was an attractive man. Plain and simple; he was an incredible knockout, the kind of guy that was so beautiful it nearly compromised his masculinity and would have rendered just about anyone insecure to the degree that they would have been positively incapable of asking him out.

I doubted Hisoka would have accepted any of this as a plausible excuse for going ahead with what had happened earlier, so for once I made the wise decision to keep my big bazoo shut. But it also required that I keep my distance from Hisoka physically. Which wasn't too difficult considering how much misanthropy the kid possessed. He sure was making it easy for me to keep a secret.

"Tsuzuki, have you been avoiding me?"

Hisoka's question came so abruptly, so suddenly that I very nearly missed it completely. He was facing away from me, speaking to the back of the guy standing in front of us and it took a moment for me to realize that it was actually _me _that was being addressed.

"Avoiding you?" I repeated unnecessarily. "No, of course not. Why should I be avoiding you?" I was almost ashamed; it was so easy to lie now.

Hisoka glanced back toward me, his brilliant green eyes only halfway revealed from beneath heavy lids. He looked a little peaky and his skin appeared sallow, as though he'd given blood only a minute earlier. I wondered if he'd been neglecting himself again. Sometimes the strain of blocking out people's thoughts day after day took a toll on the boy, inhibiting his appetite and working his mind to the degree that he was unable to sleep. Judging from the dark rings underneath his eyes, it seemed Hisoka was having another of those days.

"These past two weeks you've been… distant. Like you're afraid to get too close." He shook his long bangs out of his eyes and turned his face back in alignment with the rest of his body, shoulders rolling carelessly. "Sorry. Guess I just sound paranoid to you, huh?"

My stomach twisted into a knot of guilt and I had to actively force my face from mirroring the sentiment. Hisoka was no longer that insecure, suspicious child I had met in Nagasaki. That boy who constantly doubted the affection and loyalty of those around him, who had started at long last to feel secure in his friendships. But to hear him give credence to that small seed of doubt and rightly so, made me sick to my stomach.

_It's because I'm doing this with Muraki that he's free from his branch of the curse, _I reminded myself, ignoring that little voice which objected to the honesty in this supposed moral statement. _As long as I keep him happy, no one else has to go through what Hisoka did ever again._

As a means of placating that ever increasing tide of shame, I brought my arm around Hisoka and gave him a strictly 'He-man' squeeze around the shoulders. "Hey," I said, leaning down to speak directly into his ear. "I'm sorry. Things have been kind of… hectic lately. But I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, not after everything you did for me. You understand?"

He looked at me with eyes that questioned my honesty as profoundly as I questioned myself. He seemed like he wanted to say something else but changed his mind at the last second, shut his mouth tight and shrugged my arm free, eyes staring resolutely ahead.

"Whatever." I guess I'd embarrassed him because his cheeks were a little pink. Kids these days. Show a little sentiment and it sends them dead surly. "Look, are you sure that sale was on today? I'm not going to stand in line and miss the meeting while you yell at the girl at the counter again."

"It _is _today, Hisoka!" I insisted, reaching into the inside pocket of my trenchcoat. "See? I wrote it down in my planner! Right here-" But what had emerged from my jacket was not my usual black day planner but a disturbingly familiar calico colored journal and a number of newspaper pages, that fluttered towards the ground before I was able to catch them. I held them up and examined the headlines with expectant horror. Yes. The very same articles detailing the kidnapping of Watari and his older sister. The articles I had taken from the box in the Other Place and stored away in the off chance that I would be able to leave with them.

But I had not left them in my trenchcoat. I had not even _worn _my trenchcoat in the Other Place. The articles had gone into the inside pocket of the suit I had appeared in. I can't believe now that I even considered that little irregularity to be as alarming as the reappearance of the articles themselves. And the journal… though it had only contained one obscure article in the Other Place, in the light of day, there now existed substantially more detail. An embroided name, perhaps the journals owner, had been scratched out and another name written beneath it in scrawly child like writing. This too had been crossed out and replaced with another name. That had also been crossed out. A line of question marks seemed to surmise the feelings of the owner on the subject of his or her identity.

"Yeah? What does your planner say?" Hisoka asked in a bored voice. He stared at the calico journal blankly for a moment before realizing that this wasn't in fact my planner. "You got a new one? Sick of the 'little black book' references, eh?"

"Um… yeah." I leapt on that solution like a Sumo Wrestler, finding it easier to just agree with whatever he said then tell him the details surrounding the journals presence. "And yeah. It's today. So let's wait a little longer. Please Hisoka?"

The boy sighed huffily and turned back to face the front, giving me the privacy I desired in order to peruse the journal. Just as the outside had changed, so too had the interior. The crazed, psychotic babble that had been present in the Other Place was gone and in its' place, almost every page had been filled with what appeared to be certified diary entries. I flipped back towards the front and started to read, shuffling forward in the line when I saw Hisoka shift from the corner of my eyes.

**October, 31**

Papa got me this di-ry. He says that when i feel sad about mama, I can write mi thorts in here and it'll help ceep mi head togetha. I'll try and do a good job and rite a lot!

**November 9**

Dear diary, (Papa says that's how your sposed to spell it!)

It's starting to get colder. Papa says that winters just around the corner. It mite snow soon. Nee-san and I cant wait. When Papa gets time off work, hes going to take us to Kyoto for a visit! Im really excited! The only bad part is… Mommys buried there. We're going to leave some flowers. Papa says sunflowers. They were Mommys favorite.

**November 14**

Dear diary,

Papa took us for a walk last night. It was kind of cold but Nee-san really wanted to see if there were any owls hangin round. Nee-san loves owls. They're her favrite animal! I kind of like tigers. Tigers are cool. Papa likes owls too and Nee-san and I like to joke and tell him that he kinda looks like an owl! Papa larfs when we say things like that. We all like to make each other larf.

I'm so happy, diary! Even tho thinking about Mommy makes me sad, Papa's around to make me smile again. Even tho I know it was because of me that he and Mommy couldn't love each other anymore. He still loves me just the same, just like Nee-san.

Papa! You're the best Dad in the world!

**November 21**

Diary! We went to Kyoto today!

Our holiday room is so cool! We have a grate view! Papa's real pleased with himself and he keeps larfing happly and hugging us. Nee-san thinks Papas gone loopy. She's always saying that. But Papa doesn't care! He just larfs some more.

We went to the cultural (I arsked Papa to spell that word for me!) festaval just after we arrived. There were so many awsome masks and the dancers were really pretty! Even tho it was kinda cold out, we really enjoyed ourselves. Papa ate five stix of sticky scwid!

Were going tomoro to put floers on Mommys grave. I wonder if shell be happey to c us? Papa doesn't say nthing but I think he wonders to.

**November 22**

Dear Diary,

It waz windey today but we steel went to visit the grave. Papa seemed wrelly tired today. I arsked wut was wrong but I think this onley made him grumpey. I thinck he misses Mommy too. Nee-san and I got to put the floers down and we lit some incenss, so we coold pray. Papa says that Mommy will here whut we r saying. Mommy must be happy in Heven. I wonder whut God is like? I bet evrythings purfekt up there.

**November 23**

Dear Diary,

I don't kno whut I did wrong but Papa seems even grumpyer today. I thought it was just visiting Mommy that made him akt weird. I don't think he wantz to talk to Nee-san and I, so we're staying put in our room.

We wer supposed to go out to lunch today.

Nee-san wont stop crying.

**November 24**

Dear Diary,

Papas better now! He sayd he waz sorry and took us out for an extra big lunch to make up for yestaday. It rayned but we were all so happey we bearly noticed. Nee-san is sad becawz she hasn't seen any owls in Kyoto since we got here. Papa took us to a toy stor and bowt me a little toy tiger and got Nee-san a little plush owl. Theyre both so cute! Papa said that we can tell all our frends back home that we saw tigers and owls and Kyoto, but its not really the same tho, is it?

**November 25**

Dear Diary,

Were back! Our vacation is ova and we gotta go back ta skool. Papa's gotta go back ta work. I steel feel bad for upseting him on the trip. I hope he knows how much I love him.

I'm gonna go tell him.

**December 5**

Dear Diary,

School is so boring! Everything's too easy now, diary! Papa says I gotta stick at it tho because I might need to use them smarts one day! Papa is so clever. He went to University and got a diploma for some inventing thing. I'm not sure what its called. But Papa's had a hard time getting work lately. He seems tired all the time and his eyes are red. When _we _get like that, Papa makes us go to bed early! _He _should go to bed early too but he always stays up late.

**December 31**

New Years Eve Diary!

Tomorrow's gonna be the start of a whole new year! I can't wait! Things are going to be even better, I know it! Papa took Nee-san and me to watch the New Years Celebrations, even though he doesn't have much money. We ate so much, I thought my tummy would burst! Then we stayed up all night and made a wish when the sun came up. I hope it comes true. I wanna stay with Papa and Nee-san forever.

**January 1**

Dear Diary,

It's the start of a whole new year! Hooray for 1983!

It's gonna be a great year, you wait and see!

I gotta go for breakfast now. I'll write some more tomorrow.

**January 2**

Dear Diary,

Second day of 1983. I knew it was going to be a great year! Papa doesn't seem as tired anymore and though we don't have much money he still bought us heaps of presents to celebrate Christmas. There are a lot of Japanese families that don't believe in Christmas but I'm glad we do!

Papa didn't get anything for Christmas. Maybe his Mama and Papa don't believe in Christmas, just like the rest of Japan?

I wish I could meet Papa's parents. Other kids have Grandparents, why not me and Nee-san too? Maybe I should ask Papa about them?

**January 5**

Dear Diary,

You know how I said I would ask Papa about Grandma and Grandpa? Well I did. And I wish I didn't. I didn't mean to make Papa cry.

Today's a bad day diary. For some reason, I feel sad too.

I can smell tulips…

**January 8**

Papa didn't come out of his room much today. I think he might be sick. Is it my fault again? Nee-san's going to be sad if Papa gets grumpy again.

**January 9th**

He hit me.

I don't know what I did! I went into his bedroom to see how he was and he got scared or something and he hit me!

I wasn't going to hurt him.

Maybe he does hate me.

**January 10**

Dear Diary,

Papa says he loves me. I'm so happy. I don't care why he hit me anymore, just as long as we can smile again. He seems better now. He took me shopping to make up for what he did and said sorry heaps, so I guess it was an accident. Nee-san got to come shopping as well, otherwise she would be left at home by herself!

**January 12**

I smelt the tulips again today.

Why can't I stop crying?

I miss someone…

**March 29**

Dear Diary

Sorry I haven't written in ages! Things have been pretty busy around here the last few months. Papa's getting more money now, so we moved and got a bigger house! I don't have to share a room with Nee-san anymore! The house is heaps bigger than our old apartment. I'm having some friends stay over on Friday, for the first time ever! Sometimes the kids at school say mean things about my Papa but I don't believe any of it. Papa's the greatest! I think they're just jealous that their dads aren't cool like mine. That's what Nee-san says and she should know. She's super smart like Papa.

**April 13**

Dear Diary

A kid at school today said I was a 'bastard'. I don't understand. I know it's a bad word and it means you're bad as well but I've never done anything mean to anyone. The boy said his dad had been talking to his Mama about me and he had been eavesdropping. He said that a bastard is someone whose parents weren't married.

Does my Papa think I'm a bastard too? He said he doesn't and told me I shouldn't ever repeat that word. I promised I wouldn't.

I don't like that word.

I hate it the most.

**September 11**

Dear Diary,

Papa doesn't look well again today. He seems kind of sick. His eyes are red and droopy. I asked him if anything was wrong but he just smiled. Papa doesn't get grumpy anymore. He's always smiling.

**September 20**

Dear Diary,

Papa was sick again today. He kept on touching his arm and saying that something hurt. I wanted to kiss it better but he wouldn't let me see it. He fell asleep on the floor and Seki and I had nothing to do all afternoon. Papa's been going to the doctor a lot lately.

**No date**

Papa…

**No date**

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Where are you? Where are you? Oh, why won't you come home?

**No date**

You wicked man, you wicked man!

You made Nee-san cry!

We need you, please come back!

PLEASE!

We'll be good!

**No date**

Please come back

**No date**

Please come back

**No date**

Where are you? Rotten good for nothing.

Some people came and got us. We're going to a group home for a while, that's what they said.

I don't wanna go. I know Papa's not coming back but I don't wanna leave! I wanna stay here! This is where we all smiled together.

They said the fire took Papa. There was a fire… did Papa burn in the fire?

It must have hurt so bad! Oh Papa! I miss you so much! What are we gonna do without you? The other man doesn't want me! He already has a son of his own.

I have nowhere.

**No date**

I could smell the tulips again today. It doesn't feel so bad this time.

**No date**

A woman came today with her husband. The woman is apparently our- no, she's really Nee-san's aunt, since Papa's not my real father. She was Papa's sister but they haven't seen each other in years, not since she was nineteen. She seems nice. Her husband runs a big restaurant in Kyoto and they want to take Seki to live there.

I have a blood father in Tokyo. The people here at the group home are trying to get in contact with him but apparently he's overseas at the moment. Auntie is going to attest custody, so that Seki and I can stay together.

I hope she can. We've already lost Papa. Nee-san and I have to stay together! We _have _to!

**No date. Handwriting far advanced**

Seki has been living in Kyoto for some time now. I can't go until that man is contacted. I wish they'd hurry up and find him already. The group home is _so _boring.

**Still no date**

They found him.

I can't believe it. He actually wants me to come and live with him now! After ignoring me for all these years, now he wants to try and establish bonds? At the expense of my sister and me?

I'm so angry! But what am I supposed to do? I'm still a minor and that man _is _my blood father.

I have a brother too. A little brother. I always _used _to be the younger brother.

I'm going to miss you Seki… but I promise I'll write you all the time! We'll see each other again one day. We gotta do our best now though. We can't be bitter.

Papa wouldn't want that.

**No date**

I met my little brother today. I think he was more shocked to find out about me, then I was to find out my father actually wanted something to do with me! He's got this real platinum colored hair… I've never seen anything like it! It's a bit soon to start calling him Nii-san, so I addressed him by his first name instead. I hope that's okay. Maybe it's a bit impersonal in an upper class family, I don't know… Ah well, he seems nice enough. He's a bit on the shy side but we can work on that!

Papa worked so hard pushing and pulling for Nee-san and me. He was so good to us, up until the very end he protected us and gave us everything we could ever want, at the expense of the things that he needed. Papa never rested a day even until the very moment his entire world collapsed. So even if my entire world collapses, I have to live up to my father's memory. He gave everything to me when I was weak; so no matter what I have to protect my new family. I have to protect my brother.

That must be the reason Papa died… and why I couldn't stay with Seki. Kazutaka needed me.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

_Kazutaka?!_

I flicked through the remaining pages of the journal but nothing else was written. No indication as to the writers identity, nothing. There was a plain suggestion that this was the diary belonging to Muraki's half sibling but I hadn't a clue as to who this was. The only knowledge I had regarding the family relations of the Muraki family I had learnt from the reports submitted by my fellow Guardians, who had been present in Kyoto during those traumatic events so many months ago. I knew that Muraki had been interested in using my genetic profile to fill in the gaps of a cloning experiment he'd been steadily working on for a number of years prior to my first meeting with him. The specifics however were unclear… he had divulged none of the details to any of my fellow Guardians naturally and the large vat containing the remnants of his initial efforts was destroyed in the fire that had consumed the University, the contents whatever they were, unsalvageable.

So, there were a number of alternatives; either this half-brother was the individual whom Muraki had been devoted to resurrecting or else he was still alive out there somewhere… The idea of Muraki having a brother around the same age as him stimulated me somehow. If he was still alive, where was he? And who was this Seki the poor boy spoke of? This older sister whom he had been separated from by the cruelest of circumstances?

I tried to work it out as Hisoka and I continued to shuffle forwards in the gradually shortening line. This boy, the half-Muraki, had lost his mother and he and his half-sister were living with his sisters' father, whom he thought of as his true parent. From what I gathered, his stepfather had then passed away in a fire and the daughter, Seki, had been shuffled off to live with a relative of the fathers and the half-brother admitted into a group home, whilst awaiting the return of his blood-father from overseas.

Muraki's father… Why had he left his illegitimate son in a group home for so long? Surely he would have checked in with him from time to time? Provided financial aid for child support and the like. I just couldn't understand and I desperately wanted to show this diary to Muraki and hear what he had to say on the matter. It had to be important, judging by the way it had appeared before me in the Other Place. But whose writing was displayed on the single page then? Not the half-brothers surely… but someone else. Someone more disturbed… And if I were to take into account the number of syringes littered across the floor, then the author of that particular piece was surely drug dependent.

I sighed deeply, tucking the journal back into my inside pocket, where it weighed heavy against my mind as well as my heart. It was almost impossible to fathom a simple answer to the many questions that continued to plague me. And not only were the problems complex but there were hundreds of intrinsic connections; as though a huge spider had spun a web across the voids and drawn a thousand unaware persons all together. I almost expected to feel a bump against my back and to turn around to find someone drawn in against me; someone who somehow connected to me, though I may not have seen the thread before.

"Tsuzuki? You going to order something or what?"

**XxXxXxXxX**

We arrived at the Ministry with a minute to spare. Tatsumi stopped me in the midst of my regular morning mad rush to the office that I shared with Hisoka, holding my assorted pastry boxes against my chest as though they were my newborn children.

"Ready to go Tsuzuki?"

I gave him the dirtiest look I could possibly muster. Barely one foot through the door and the guy was already raring to reverse me right back on out it!

"Do you mind?" I said, outraged. "I haven't even had breakfast yet!"

Tatsumi wasn't as accommodating as I'd hoped. His nostrils went white and he adopted that prudish expression I imagined would not be uncommon on the face of a mother. Not that I had any memory of mine but you get the point.

"Well, that's your own fault now isn't it?" He stressed mulishly, putting his hands on my shoulders from behind and steering me forcefully in the direction of the staff room. "Go in and sit down. You can eat while we discuss the mission variables."

I scoffed loudly before I was able to stop myself. "_Mission variables? _What is this; the army?"

Tatsumi moved his hands up from my arms and used his fingers to squeeze my ears until tears came to my eyes.

"You cut that cheek right now." He said as we rounded the corner and into the midst of my fellow Guardians, all waiting outside of the staff room for Tatsumi to unlock it. Konoe looked exceptionally huffy; no doubt due in part to Tatsumi's unrivaled knack for managing to exercise more authority within the Summons Section than him. Hisoka slouched in behind me, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans and only the faintest trace of a smile lifting the corner of his lips.

"Whenever you're ready, Tatsumi." Konoe said, putting on his most important voice as though to remind everyone that _he _was in fact Chief and _he _should be in possession of the keys. His eyes lingered with offensive interest on my oodles of goodies and I tried without much success to covet them from his eyes by angling my upper body around so that my arms faced back towards Tatsumi's towering figure. Hisoka didn't bother to hide the fact that he was very openly rolling his eyes at this not unusual display. Well, not unusual for me, anyway.

"Well, isn't this a nice way for us to gather?" Terazuma commented, with the air of one wanting to get the worst over with. "Cozy little circle in the middle of the hallway. Almost like standing around a campfire."

Wakaba smiled patiently at him. "Campfires are supposed to be bright and cheerful, Hajime. This is hardly anything like a campfire."

"Well, Tsuzuki's bright and cheerful." Saya pointed out, which forced Yuma into a string of heartfelt giggles I couldn't pretend to understand. "He can stand in the middle of us and make crackling noises!"

"Cracks more like."

"Shut up, Hajime!"

"_Don't _call me Hajime, you tinsel toed freak show!"

"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!!" Konoe bellowed and I did so immediately, afraid that if I pushed it too far the old fella was likely to blow the lid right off of his blood pressure. His eyes had already acquired that dangerous, slightly protuberant look I had come to associate with imminent disaster. He glared at us reproachfully, daring either Terazuma or I to violate his command in any way and seemed to eventually conclude that neither of use were so inclined risk our jobs just for the sake of a few extra seconds of tattling one another. "Thankyou." He said, with much dignity, soothing down the nape of his light purple jacket and gesturing towards Tatsumi with a weary wave of his hand. "Tatsumi? Would you be so kind…?"

Tatsumi hastened immediately to unlock the door and we all filed inside like badly behaved school children that had just been shepherded in from the playground. Everyone immediately helped themselves to my menagerie of pastries as I set them down on the table but I dared not protest whilst that vein continued to throb so threateningly in Konoe's aged forehead.

Tatsumi stood at the head of the table, looking very important and making sure that everyone took notice of his new jacket, the nape of which he had finally negotiated into being correctly directed.

"Meeting commenced at 8:35 exactly," He declared, running his fingers absently down the interior lining of the jacket, so that we could hardly fail to miss the perfect symmetry in which it framed his matching blue striped tie. "All Guardians assigned to this mission present and accounted for."

"You mean… we're _all _going to take out Muraki?" I blurted, pointing at each group member in turn. "Don't you think this might be just a _little _overzealous, Tatsumi?"

Tatsumi's lips were pressed thin. "When it comes to Muraki _nothing _is overzealous, Tsuzuki. If we're going to do this, we're not going to give that doctor even a sliver of a chance to come out on top."

"And with the eight of us there'll be nothing but a stain left by the time we're done with him." Terazuma assured, tapping his chest cockily with the ball of his fist. I forced a smile, finding it a little harder then I expected.

"Yeah. Great! Great Hajime, great." But something about his wording stuck me as incorrect. Looking around the gathered congregation I counted the present number as I visually inspected them. Myself, Hisoka, Tatsumi, Wakaba, Terazuma, Yuma and Saya numbered seven, so long as I was counting correctly. (Konoe was not included as he was no longer a field operative). I added up a second time just to be sure.

"Hajime… you can't count." I broke into a string of obnoxious giggles, which I'm certain the shape-shifter failed to appreciate. "Look! There are only seven of us. See? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Mr. Konoe doesn't count of course." I added, with what I hoped was a graceful nod at my boss, who chose instead to look scandalized my apparent claim that he 'didn't count'.

Tatsumi smiled patiently, settling his clipboard into the crook of his opposite elbow and using his now free hand to straighten his glasses.

"Actually, it's not just the seven of us who will be going to face Muraki, Tsuzuki. His majesty Enma formally insisted that an agent of the Containment Sector accompany us today, should we have require any extra force."

"Any extra force?" Yuma scoffed, tossing her light brown shoulder length hair haughtily to one side. "How much extra force could we possibly need, what with the seven of us being so majorly badass?"

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. A sixth sense of some cruel irony about to take place, so persuasive that I actually found myself loosening my tie, something I did when I found my anxiety substantially increasing. Even my remaining goodies could do little to ease my growing concerns.

"Just… who exactly is Enma sending along?"

If Tatsumi noticed the apprehension in my voice he either didn't notice it or chose to ignore it. With him it is always sort of difficult to determine the extreme dictations of his emotions. He was well guarded.

Tatsumi checked the clipboard, eyes scrolling down a little way before settling on the appropriate section.

"A gentleman by the name of Orakiku Segai." Tatsumi looked back up at me, smiling with oblivious encouragement. "He's been employed at the Ministry for just as long as you."

Oh dear God… it _was _him.

Aki.

My _original _forbidden love.

I wanted to handle this development with verve and grace but let's face it; I'd never exactly been much of a sophisticate. And I wasn't given a great deal of time to react before Aki actually walked into the room and joined us.

Even after all these years he still had an effect on me. Just the sight of his lean body made my hormones ignite, despite my passionate exchange with Muraki earlier that morning. When your libido had been kept in check for as long as mine had, it didn't take much to set it off and Aki certainly provided no battle.

In respect to his appearance, Aki was both handsome and homely. Favorably toned and with naturally dark skin that made him appear tanned all year round, he was built like a jock but had three times the smarts of your average varsity chowder-head. He was a little shorter than Muraki and just a little taller than me, which had made kissing him enjoyable, as I wasn't required to crack my neck out of place to reach him. He'd cut his blond hair since we'd dated last and now wore it short and spiked, which suited him more than it had long, though I'd spent many happy nights running my fingers through it and enjoying the silky texture.

His personality was a plus too. He could be pretty deep when it suited him but was generally a soft and tender guy with a very charismatic attitude. I doubted he had a mean bone in his body.

The time I had spent with Aki had been, until this point, the happiest time of my afterlife. I'd fallen in love with him but like most people that got too close to me, he couldn't handle the more angst riddled aspects of my personality and watching him struggle to do so became too painful for me to bear. Not to mention I had very nearly jeopardized my friendship with Watari over Aki. I'd first met him when he and Watari had been going out. They'd been a certifiable item for a month when Watari invited me out for a couple of drinks one night and we'd gotten to know one another. A little too well. Aki and I hit it off famously. For weeks we had nursed a shared secret infatuation, neither having the guts to confess it to Watari or to ourselves. Finally, one night when Watari had had too much to drink, Aki and I took him home and set him to bed and then I'd made the ill-fated mistake to invite Aki into my apartment for a cup of coffee. We must have kissed for hours. My lips were chaffed and raw beyond even my healing abilities capacity to tolerate. I'd been besotted with that man. If there were anyone I would have thought could have been the 'one' for me, it would have been Aki, no questions asked.

Things between Watari and I had been pretty tense during that period. It was pretty low, in my opinion at least but I'd explained to him as sensitively as possible that it was easier for him to find romantic partners than it was for me. I'm still not entirely sure why, even to this day. Guys have always been… _weird _around me. They didn't treat me like a prospective lover, like a living breathing human being. They treated me… I'm not even sure _how _to define how they treated me.

But Aki hadn't been like that. He'd been good to me. He'd spoiled me. He'd loved me. I would always be grateful for that. And I'm such a small person that I can say with complete honesty that it was worth the friction between Watari and myself. Sorry man. You know I love you dearly but I'm glad I hadn't missed out on the chance to experience everything that being with Aki had to offer.

We'd parted on favorable circumstances, offering to try and pick it up again a little further down the track. Should we both remain single of course. No problem with me. I seemed to spend most of my time alone, rather then as part of a couple.

We hadn't seen each other in some years now. We worked on opposite ends of the Ministry and he was more often than not out on regular field assignments. Agents of the Containment Sector were like the hit men of the Ministry in a fashion. They were the ones that were sent out to locate and decimate demons and supernatural creatures that were considered a verifiable threat.

Apart from his hair, not a great deal had changed about Aki Segai. He was still as lovely as ever. In every meaning of the word.

"Well, if it isn't Little Python!" Aki exclaimed cheerfully, walking straight past Tatsumi as though he were the cellophane man and slinging his arms about me casually. He started that familiar pattern of patting up and down my back, his tactic to work his way down to my bottom. And this wasn't easy either, considering that I was still seated and all.

Aki had always appreciated a firm bottom.

"Hey, I have a real name. All my own." I said, perhaps a little more flirtatiously then I needed to be. I just couldn't help myself. Aki was the kind of guy whom you always felt comfortable flirting with. Possibly because he was such a flirt himself.

"Did he just call you _Python?_" Terazuma asked once we had parted. I noticed Saya and Yuma looking on approvingly. Trust _them_ to appreciate the scene.

"Aki- Um Orakiku here gave me that nickname because of my iron stomach." I explained, not failing to notice Aki's hand still resting on the inward curve of my back. This guy wasn't under the delusion that he was being subtle, was he?

"He can digest anything." Aki said with a hint of pride. "Just like a python."

"Yeah… yeah, I got that." Terazuma offered, looking annoyed that Aki had felt this required further explanation.

"This guy could eat anything ya put in front of him and never get sick. Once, I saw him eat a beer and Chanpon together. Yet he somehow still manages to keep his fabulous little figure." Aki gave me a little jiggle and smiled, expressing how sincerely happy he was to see me. This genuine honesty was one of his big appeals, never mind his perfectly white and straight teeth, flawless complexion and trim waistline. Having died in his late twenties, his forehead was mottled with a number of deep lines from years of laughter but this only increased his appeal, rather than dimmed it. He was human and that was a _good thing._

"Ah… gee thanks Aki- Orakiku." He had great manners and he knew how to treat someone in order to keep them happy. "Not looking too bad yourself."

He gave my head an affectionate tussle. "How's Watari doin' these days? Still as carefree as ever?"

I shrugged, wondering why I couldn't wipe the giddy grin off of my face. I was such a hormonal little schmuck these days. "Ah, you know him. Everything's all shits and giggles in Watari-land."

Aki stroked his chin thoughtfully, a slightly devious gleam to his hazel eyes. "Is he seein' anyone right now? Heard he went on a date with some bloke from the Detriments section a couple of weeks back."

For some reason, my stomach swooped considerably at his words. Before I could respond however Tatsumi took it upon himself to intervene. I was almost grateful.

"How is it that you're acquainted with Watari, young man?"

Aki (who had nearly half a century over Tatsumi) smirked and stuck out the tip of his tongue. "You almost sound jealous there, matie. The doc and I used to date a little, that's all."

Tatsumi quirked his brow. "You used to date…?"

"Yeah. But we broke up. I met someone worth the trouble." Aki winked in my direction so that there would be no mistake about who he had ditched Watari for. I didn't appreciate him making it so damn obvious. "Thing is, I was kind of looking forward to catching up with him one day soon."

I felt a little snipey and I think it was obvious in my voice unfortunately. "Well, you're out of luck. Watari _is _seeing someone. A samurai. Big thump of a thing. Possessive too, from what I heard."

Tatsumi's head whipped in my direction. "What?!"

Aki laughed brazenly. "Hey, don't get me wrong Python! I wasn't interested in catching up with him for _that_!"

_Sure you weren't, _I thought but I didn't bother expressing it out loud. I just crossed my arms and flashed him a look that spoke my mind and he cinched close, slinging a reassuring arm around my shoulders.

"What's with the look? It's the truth, matie. Watari makes for good company but I'm sure not interested in opening _that_ can of worms again! You're the only one I'd take that risk for. You know that."

Bless his big country heart. Though I wish he'd said that last part a little quieter. "Cheers, Aki. You sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself."

He gave me a peck on the lips, just a quick friendly gesture but the next thing I knew Tatsumi was yanking me away and steering me towards his office so quickly I wondered whether he had affixed wheels to my shoes. I glanced back towards the gathered congregation, as perplexed as they no doubt were. I was a little surprised by the expression on Wakaba's face; she seemed particularly pained as she watched Tatsumi drag me from the scene.

"Tsuzuki and I will just be a moment, I must discuss the mission variables with him." Tatsumi blurted before he liberally threw me through the door of his office, resulting in my plowing face first into the floor. Great. Now I'd be picking carpet out from between my teeth for the next week.

"What was _that?!_" Tatsumi bellowed without even waiting for me to get up. I spat out lint as I shuffled onto my knees.

"What was what?" I asked, totally perplexed by his turn of behavior. I counted Tatsumi as one of my good friends and he'd been kind to me throughout our long years of association but lately I couldn't fathom just where his mind was. That fortnight ago, when I had dressed up for my date with Muraki, Tatsumi's reaction had been enough for even someone as oblivious as me to read. It should have been clear before then, his feelings for me. The number of instances when he had fashioned a physical intimacy between us, raced to my rescue, mothered me to an almost embarrassing degree…

Now that I think about it, it's really no wonder that he responded to Aki the way that he did. To say he didn't like it would be an understatement. His brilliant sapphire blue eyes seemed to burn with a cold fire and his face was like stone. I'd never seen his lips pressed so thin as they were then.

"You know very well _'what'_." He jabbed his finger back towards the closed office door. "What is your association with that man? And what on _earth _did you mean when you said that Watari is dating that… that Oriya fellow? You _know _and _he _knows that Guardian-Mortal relationships are against the rules."

I struggled to my feet, sullen that my temper had resulted in this accidental slip of the tongue. After Watari had been so good in keeping _my_ secret, here I'd just gone and blown his right out of the water. My mind raced to fashion a plausible excuse that would clear Watari's innocence but I was still mostly divided on who better to defend in this instance; Tatsumi was glaring at me with the same expression he'd worn when I'd destroyed the library for the second time running. It made me wish I'd scored higher in defensive spells during Training.

"Well… it's not _technically _against the rules." I delicately stressed. Tatsumi looked as though I'd just wafted dung underneath his nose. "It's really more taboo… and it's none of my business anyway… and it never happened!"

Tatsumi exhaled slowly and shut his eyes as though praying with the Lord to give him strength.

"Stop contradicting yourself, Tsuzuki." It seemed he was going to exceptional pains to try and control his temper. "Watari begged to take this case, which in itself was unusual-"

"He just wanted some fresh air." I interjected nervously. Tatsumi's eyes narrowed ever so slightly behind his delicate wire framed glasses.

"Don't interrupt me, Tsuzuki." There was a familiar dangerous twinge to his voice, I recognized all too well as the sign to shut up or die. "Now, as I was saying, Watari begged to take this case and now all of a fortnight later I hear that he's involved in a…" He struggled to allocate the right definition. "- romantic liaison with the individual employing our services." He curled his lip and strummed his fingers against the curve of his chin thoughtfully. "Granted I can understand Mibu's reasons for wanting to establish this 'relationship' but I thought… well, I _hoped _that Watari was smart enough to know better."

I'd never been particularly good at interpreting subtleties in… well, pretty much anything, so I didn't understand what Tatsumi was suggesting at first. I gazed at him; feeling my brows quirk up in silent question and then when he failed to elaborate further, saw no harm in prompting him to do so.

"What do you mean by that?" I took a stab, thinking I understood his meaning though questioning the likelihood of it. "Are you trying to say that Watari's so hot, that Oriya couldn't _resist _getting it on with him?" I started laughing even before I finished the sentence.

Watari 

I think it's perfectly plausible myself.

Tsuzuki 

You would.

Tatsumi's mouth twitched as though he were going to smile. "Don't be ridiculous, of course that's not what I'm suggesting." He leant back against his desk and crossed his arms tightly across the broad expanse of his chest. "I simply question the sincerity of a man who maintains close confidences with someone like Kazutaka Muraki. Has it not occurred to you, or to Watari for that matter that this Mibu gentleman could be using him to get inside information on the Ministry? Information he can pass on to Muraki?"

This suggestion was so ridiculous; it made my own theory look plausible. For a minute I simply stared at him in mute speculation, waiting to see if he was joking or if he would suddenly realize just how unreasonable this summation was. He stared back at me silently, eyes widening and shoulders shifting upward to express that he was equally surprised that this interpretation hadn't occurred to me also.

"What?" He questioned, seeing that I wasn't about to look at it from his point of view. I gave my head a little shake, breaking myself out of my shocked trance.

"But Tatsumi… that's… that's completely mental!" I didn't stop to think that this was a phrase I _never _used but it seemed appropriate given the circumstances. "It's paranoid! It's like a conspiracy theory! And I think you're investing _way _too much stock in how much this Mibu guy cares about Muraki's batshit plans!"

Tatsumi didn't argue with me but simply shrugged. "Well… I expected you'd say as much. I shall be making a full inquiry of course."

"Tatsumi, don't be a dick." It was out of my mouth before I realized it. Tatsumi's eyes snapped up furiously to focus on me but now that I had said it, I couldn't see that I would do much more harm by expressing everything else that was on my mind. "You know Watari doesn't appreciate you meddling!"

"What Watari appreciates and what protocol requires I do are two separate issues entirely." Tatsumi responded coolly, lifting his nose in a slightly haughty gesture. "Should any harm befall- … well, should anyone in the Ministry's employ be harmed as a direct result of Watari's association with Mr. Mibu, then I will be held equally accountable for having not done my part here and now."

I could feel my features flushing at my boldness and I leant forward, encroaching Tatsumi's personal space. "Last time you nettled him about his relationships, he split your lip and set a whole army of stickmen loose in your office!"

His face was stricken and his body tense. "How do you know that gentleman, Tsuzuki?"

This change of direction took me completely by surprise and I spluttered over my words in a rushed effort to keep up. "What the- Why are you-? Are you talking about… about Aki?" I could feel myself getting angry. "Are you jealous? Is that what this about?! What has any of _that_ got to do with Watari being used as Muraki's unconscious mole?!"

"I'm sorry," Tatsumi said, completely sincere. His face still appeared remarkably tense but there was another emotion hovering just beneath the surface of his brilliant blue eyes; they seemed to shine as he looked at me. And he was close. I could literally feel the heat radiating off of his skin and see the lines separating his eyelashes. He seemed to be breathing very deeply.

An uncomfortable spear of sensation plunged down directly into my stomach and I wanted to take a step away but I couldn't do that without making it look as though I _wanted _to get away. He was just so close… _too _close.

"I'm sorry." Tatsumi repeated in an oddly husky voice I hadn't heard him use before. Sweat was breaking out on the back of my neck. Tatsumi paused in his next step forward and cocked his head sidelong as though something had suddenly caught his attention. "Tsuzuki… did you comb your hair?"

With all the fuss, I had forgotten that Muraki had tidied me up before shoving me out the door. I reached up and smoothed my fingers back through the neatly controlled waves he had somehow forced my hair to comply with. My unruly hair that behaved for no one had submitted to Muraki just as willingly as I seemed to be doing these days. Again, I suppose the signs were unmistakable.

"Oh… does it look weird?" I asked, grateful for anything that would distract Tatsumi from the hungry way he was suddenly staring at me. I had only ever seen him stare at generous monetary donations with that level of affection.

Tatsumi twitched his eyes down away from my hair, locking his gaze to mine again. "No. Not at all. You look very-" He swallowed deeply. "- nice."

I should have seen it coming. All the signs were there; his body language, his expression, the shining of his eyes. And yet, it still came as a shock when he leaned over and kissed me.

Tatsumi was so warm compared to Muraki, which was ironic considering that he was dead, whilst the latter was alive. His mouth and tongue actually felt hot, unlike Muraki who seemed to have no blood in his lips at all. The kiss was passionate, unforeseen and impetuous. My body responded of its' own volition and I let my lips fall open, allowing Tatsumi to compromise the sanctity of my mouth. His tongue moved clumsily about, probing against mine with tentative inexperience. It was clear; even to someone as innocent as me, that Tatsumi hadn't done this with another man before. Not to say that he was letting that lack of association inhibit him in any way whatsoever. He was really giving it everything he had, applying his passion and imagination to substitute for lack of familiarity. Warmth and a funny smug sort of feeling were increasing in burgeoning waves throughout my body and I felt Tatsumi's arms go around me and draw me close and it seemed like a good idea to respond. To let my arms go around him in return and sanction my mouth around his upper lip, running my tongue along the smooth pink column, lifting the angle of my thigh so that it pressed against something thick and hard. Something that made Tatsumi gasp, made his arms tighten, made him arch against me-

This primitive hormone driven reaction was enough to bring me back down to earth with a thud and I pulled myself away, breaking Tatsumi's hold about my body. Our lips parted with a soft, smacking sound and from the way Tatsumi's head dipped, it was clear he wanted to continue the kiss. I put my hands in the center of his chest and maintained my distance.

"Tatsumi… we can't do this now."

"I'm sorry… but I've been wanting to do this for longer than you know, Tsuzuki." His fingers tightened about my shoulders; thumb stroking the indent below my collarbone. "And if we should meet Muraki today… well, believe me; there's no better time than now."

I knew what he was getting at but I never thought the day would come when I would hear such terrifyingly frank words fall from this secure and stable mans lips. And it made me angry; that he thought he could only do this now, could only confess this phenomenal truth because there was a good chance one of us wouldn't survive our "encounter" with Muraki.

I gripped him tightly by the lapels of his jacket, the very same jacket he had been complaining about only two weeks ago and forced him to look directly at me.

"You don't get to talk like that." And for a minute, just a minute, I actually _felt _like the older one. Technically I _was _older than Tatsumi but he had lived longer than I had; he was twenty-nine when he had passed away and I had only been twenty-six, so he had been a much more mature person when he had become a Guardian of Death. He'd always seemed like the oldest. That moment was the first time in our entire association that I felt in some way superior to him. "No one is going to die today, so you don't get the luxury of being honest with me. You don't get to confess your feelings because you _think _one of us might not pull through this."

I hadn't lied. Muraki wasn't at his home. He wasn't even in Tokyo. And because of his arrangement, I could guarantee almost one hundred percent that Muraki wouldn't so much as sneer at another Guardian of Death without losing my trust.

Muraki… 

If he had any inkling that Tatsumi had kissed me… let alone that I had _responded _in kind… I'd never seen Muraki in a real temper before and I could only imagine what it would be like. Tatsumi really _would _have to watch his back then.

The secretary's eyes were shimmering with a light film of tears and he took my face between his hands. He rubbed my cheeks and stroked his thumbs over my eyelashes and ran his fingers through my neatly brushed hair. As though he were trying to absorb every single line of my body. To experience me before it was beyond his ability to do so. I knocked his hands away.

"Tatsumi… I'm seeing someone." This seemed to be the only way to get him to back off and it wasn't exactly a lie either. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry if this isn't what you want or need to hear right now but I can't… I can't feed you any false hope."

He stepped away, disentangling himself from me. I wasn't an empath like Hisoka but I would have to be brain dead to not feel the desire and longing rolling off of Tatsumi.

"Is it that man out there?" He asked softly. I shook my head.

"No." And I was dramatically overwhelmed by the unfamiliar prospect I was suddenly faced with. Three guys, all handsome, all well to do and all interested in me. My love life had never looked so good! What was ironically the most frustrating aspect of this situation was that the man I was currently most attracted to, was a sadistic ex-murderer.

I could have gone with either Tatsumi or Aki and been happy, content and spoilt rotten for the rest of my days. I wouldn't be going through this disgusting emotional turmoil and compromising my morality and betraying Hisoka and everything I held dear. Why did I have to make things more difficult for myself? A tiny, unbiased part of me wondered whether or not I had a pining for dramatics. I wondered if I could ever truly be happy just… being happy.

"Tatsumi… let's get this over with." I grasped him about the wrist and pulled him out of his office and back in the direction of the staff room. "We'll have all the time in the world to talk about this. Let's just deal with one thing at a time, eh?"

Tatsumi had no response to this except a throaty grunt, which I found difficult to interpret to say the least. Once back in the staff room, he immediately busied himself in getting the girls to change into more appropriate clothing (they were donned in their usual flowy and feminine attire, which was pointless for a physical mission) and ensuring that every Guardian was equipped with what appeared to be a small pager and in the event that we were unable to use _mana, _our choice of a handheld weapon. I restocked my fuda and arranged all the basic spell scripture.

He didn't look at me once during this entire process and when the time came to leave, he strode on ahead of the group, moving quickly so as to avoid keeping pace with the rest of us, even as Wakaba did her best to sweet talk him out of his obvious blue funk. Mr. Konoe flashed me a confused look as I bustled past him and out through the archway, a half eaten treacle tart dangling from between my teeth.

"Well, someone's getting the cold shoulder," Konoe commented, rapping me confidently on the shoulder as I vaulted down the steps. "Good luck. Be safe, all of you and be sure to call for assistance if you feel it's necessary. Don't be embarrassed to, even if it is eight to one and he still manages to beat your asses down!"

"Good value for money, that one." Aki said cheerfully, beaming back at Mr. Konoe with genuine affection. "You know, I think the old bugger is starting to grow on me."

It turned out that Muraki's mansion was a lot closer to the Ministry than I had originally thought. The eight of us turned invisible and flew there in a short ten minutes, landing in a deserted alleyway just down the road from the mansions gates. Then we strolled on up, casual as you please.

In the morning light, the mansion looked much bigger than I remembered it. There were three sections; the main building and two slightly smaller guest wings in the right and left hand corners of the facility. It was hard to think that seventy-two years ago, I had been hospitalized in one of those guest wings, which had at the time been converted into a hospital by Muraki's Grandfather. Not that I had any memories of those days of course. And I wasn't planning on exploring the guest wings at any rate. If Muraki had been here it only seemed plausible to purpose that he was in the Main Mansion. So I would insist that we keep our investigation segregated to that area alone.

The stonewall surrounding the property was almost as imposing as the silent white buildings looming just beyond it. We wasted a lot of time just standing around staring up at it, trying to officially formalize our 'attack' plan.

"So… should we try buzzing the intercom?" Wakaba suggested, after we'd spent a good few minutes doing nothing in particular. Yuma rolled her eyes haughtily.

"And say what? That we're dropping in for a cup of tea and a quick assassination attempt? Yeah, that'll bring the welcome wagon running."

Tatsumi nodded thoughtfully, eyeing off the intercom as though it were about to start shooting laser beams out at us. "I agree with Miss Fukiya. We've got to assume that Muraki has alerted his servants to be on the look out for us. In which case, we can't risk being seen."

"So, we go incognito." Terazuma stated, enforcing some of his detective vernacular just to prove he still had it. "Go invisible, hop the wall, and bust in."

I raised a hand, waving it about as though I were a student on a rather interesting field trip. Tatsumi's mouth quirked a bit as he pointed at me over the heads of the other Guardians.

"Yes Tsuzuki, what is it?"

I lowered my hand at his validation. "Well, not that Hajime's plan isn't all well and nice," I distinctly heard Terazuma swear and insist in a rather rude manner that I desist from calling him 'Hajime. "But, once we're over the wall, how are we supposed to get into the house without alerting the servants- and Muraki – to the fact that we're there? I'm sure they're bound to notice eight great honking Guardians of Death breaking down the door."

Aki laughed broadly, resembling a football jock more than ever with his hands on his hips and his broad chest thrust out.

"You're as artless as ever, Python! Good thing ya got me here." He ignored my scowl and instead whipped something out of his pocket, something that look suspiciously like a credit card. "Watari made these little nifties for all the Containment Sector agents some time back. The essential tool in infiltration!"

"A credit card?" Saya enquired, clearly trying to be polite. Hisoka's wasn't so concerned. His eyes rolled back so that the whites were showing.

"Oh come on! _Everyone _knows that credit card trick! And it only ever works in the movies anyway."

Aki waved a finger at him. "Not so quick to judge, kiddo. Watari made this device to look like a credit card because of that very attitude. But it's actually much more than that. Once we get inside, I'll show you what I mean."

We all nodded, quite content to place our trust in a member of the Containment Sector, even if everyone (especially Terazuma, as of late) was particularly iffy about placing our fates in the hands of anything that Watari had made. No offense, mate.

Hisoka, Tatsumi and I surveyed the three possible directions in which people may have approached the Muraki mansion and sensed no one in the immediate vicinity. We kept watch as Saya, Yuma, Wakaba, Terazuma and Aki shifted to invisibility and Jumped the wall, landing without so much as a sound on the far side.

"Seems as though Muraki hasn't cast any protection spells around his mansion." Hisoka mused, taking one last glance about to make sure no one was watching before he too shifted to invisibility. "Strange… makes our job easier though."

Tatsumi and I shifted to invisibility and cleared the wall along with Hisoka, my mind racing as fast as our _mana _energy propelled us through the air. I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me that Muraki hadn't thrown any spells up; it would have kept me from being able to visit him, if the urge had ever taken me. It truly occurred to me then, the risks Muraki was taking on account of our 'liaisons' as Tatsumi called it.

Still invisible, the eight of us traipsed up to the door, watching Aki to see what mystical deeds he was going to perform with the 'Watari Made Credit Card of Infiltration Wonderfulness.' For a moment he just stood there, as though savoring our rapt attentions and then moved to the far side of the great oak double door, pressing the end of the card against the hinged line. He swiped the card down quickly over the hinges, as though using an ATM machine and then casually pocketed it, gesturing for us to move closer.

Terazuma scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Was something supposed to happen?"

"Shhh…" Wakaba urged and then suddenly gasped as Aki reached out and pushed at the left hand side of the double doors, the side he had just swiped with the card and it swung inward, swinging from the center rather than from the hinges, which opened wide to admit us into the foyer beyond.

We entered slowly and carefully, the door clicking shut softly behind us. The air seemed strange; thicker somehow and it appeared to radiate with a purple light. Aki waved a hand nonchalantly and the chandelier hanging above the foyer burst on, showering us with a brilliant blue glow. Tatsumi rounded on him, eyes narrowed down to form That Look.

"_What do you think you're doing?_"

"Ease up, ease up." Aki yawned, traipsing liberally over to a lamp set atop the entrance hall cabinet and switching that on too. "That card allows us to step through the true reality of a building and enter it through the subjective Fourth Layer of Reality. We can freely interact with any material object on this plane and not interfere with it in the First Layer of Reality, or the real world if you prefer. Of course, we'll be invisible to any people we encounter. They won't be able to hear us either, so feel free to jabber 'til your hearts content."

"And how do we get out of this reality?" Saya wondered, clearly nervous by the prospect of being trapped in this bizarre purple dimension for the rest of her days. I wish I could be more loyal but the prospect that Watari had created this thing with no reversal process was my immediate concern also. Aki gave her a comforting squeeze about the shoulders.

"Ay, don't sweat it! Done this plenty of times and it's never gone wrong once. Not once." He held up the card again. "It'll reverse itself either as soon as we leave the building or if I swipe the card down the correct jam of any door in the house. Then we enter the door the usual way and we step back into the First Layer of Reality." He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. "Certain sources have revealed that icky blue marble the doc has for an eye can see into three alternative layers of reality. I'm using the card for fourth layer, so that we can sneak up on him rather than vice versa."

Tatsumi gazed at the card and Aki with annoying fondness. "A fine idea, Mr. Segai. This should certainly make our job easier."

"And if it doesn't work and Muraki's able to see us?" Hisoka asked carefully. I knew what he was worried about; that despite the curse marks disappearing, there may still exist something of a connection between them. A connection Muraki would be able to sense and use to his advantage. It almost made me want to sigh with impatience and blurt out that none of this was of any concern because Muraki wasn't even in the damn building! But this would have been stupid and incremental and even I wasn't foolish enough to act out of frustration.

Aki grinned and stuck out his tongue. "Then he gets a face full of Tsuzuki boob, which will distract him long enough for us to hex him a hundred ways to Halloween."

I gasped and slapped Aki hard on the arm, trying not to let a blush gain control of my features. "Listen you! I am _not _gonna flash Muraki just to save your butts!"

"Too bad Watari's not here." Terazuma mused wistfully. "He'd have _no _problem doing it."

Tatsumi clapped his hands together loudly. "All right now, that's quite enough chit-chat. We have enough to be getting on with, so let's do what we came here to do." We all looked to him like obedient children and I'm sure I too would have appreciated the seriousness of the situation if I had been as invested as everyone else. But I _knew _Muraki wasn't here. I _knew _we wouldn't be facing him. It was hard to act serious and somber and scared when I was none of these things. I think this has been said before but I'm something of a terrible liar. And an even worse actor.

"Enma has instructed that we only capture Muraki, so that he can be bought before Hades Court for Judgment. Preferably alive of course." The secretary curled his lip to demonstrate exactly what he thought of such orders. "However, if at any time you feel that your own life is in jeopardy, you have approval to defend yourself in whatever means you see fit. Now, we split up. The Main Mansion is a big place, so it'll take a while to search the whole place. Miss Fukiya, you take the right wing of the second floor, Miss Torii, the left wing of the second floor. Miss Wakaba, I'll ask you to take the right wing of the Main Mansion on the ground floor. I believe kitchen and dining area is in that direction." (It was too. _Where _did Tatsumi get his information, I had to wonder?) "Terazuma? I'm trusting you to take the left wing of the ground floor." Terazuma gave a lazy mock salute, just to show that he had heard. "Mr. Segai? Please take the attic and basement. I will take the Garden and grounds. Kurosaki? Tsuzuki? The two of you will explore the third floor area. Kurosaki will take the right wing of the third floor, Tsuzuki the left wing. When one of us finds Muraki, or encounters danger of any kind, we hit this button on our pagers." He held up his own pager and indicated a large black button with his ring finger. "This transmits the alarm signal to all corresponding pagers, that you each have on your person. It will make a strong vibration like this." He demonstrated by hitting the button on his pager and causing all corresponding machines to twinge violently, including my own, long since shoved into my jacket pocket. "It will display on the screen who has activated the alarm signal and once you see that, we all go straight to that Guardians location to assist in any manner we see fit." I had a very bad, almost vague premonitory feeling that if Tatsumi had been the first to encounter Muraki, he wouldn't bother to alert us at all but would take him on by himself. Perhaps that was the reason he had been so touchy feely that morning. "Once you have thoroughly searched your assigned location, return here at once to the Entrance Hall and await further instruction. Do not proceed to investigate a fellow Guardians area under any cost, unless of course you are alerted to do so." His face held an oddly eerie contrast in the vague purplish light emanating from all around us. "Be careful. Move out."

Touching goodbyes were not his thing and he immediately moved towards the far side of the entrance hall, stepping through an adjourning door and swinging it slowly shut behind him. The other Guardians parted ways, Yuma and Saya cheerfully jogging up the stairs to the second floor, chatting and giggling with such animation you might have thought they were getting ready for a day at the beach. Wakaba gave my arm a comforting pat before moving to the right hand side of the entrance hall.

"Good luck everyone!" She called, before swinging open the old oak door and stepping through. I could tell from the way Terazuma was biting his lip that he was more than vaguely concerned for his petite partners welfare.

"Be careful Kanuuki." He pleaded, before he too went on his way and stepped through the opposing door into the left wing of the ground floor. Aki tilted his head back and hefted a not unattractive sigh at the ceiling, so high above our heads.

"Guess I'll take the attic first. Though, in a psycho's house I'm half expecting to find skinned corpses hanging from the ceiling. And I doubt the basement would be much better."

This unfortunate comparison reminded me all too much of the half skinned cadavers in the Room of Corollary and an involuntary shudder went through my body. Aki, clearly thinking that my disgust was attributed to something else entirely, squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, his eyes liberally twinkling with their usual cheery mischief.

"Hey, don't worry none about this! You're going to be fine. We'll get this guy and then you'll never have to concern yourself with him ever again." He slapped my back and then marched for the stairs in a bold exaggeration of a fearless explorer, swinging his arms like a lumberjack. "Never fear, the A-Man's here!"

"Watch your tail." I called and he gave a jaunty swish of his backside in response, disappearing up the stairs heading in the attics vague direction. Hisoka and I were left alone in the eerily quiet Entrance Hall.

We looked at one another in unison and I forced a smile, slightly put upon by the surly frown I received in return.

"Well, let's go on a Witch hunt!" I declared enthusiastically striding towards the stairs and flashing a confident grin over my shoulder. Hisoka continued to stare with discouraging disinterest and I tried to force him to crack a smile by tap-dancing up the marble staircase, in my best impression of Gene Kelley in 'Singing in the Rain'. His expression didn't change as he came stomping up churlishly, giving me a disdainful shove in the shoulder as he passed.

"Stop it. We're working." He snapped, as though I required some reminder of the supposed 'seriousness' of the situation. "Well… most of us will be working. _Some _of us will be playing grab ass, if they happen to find Muraki first."

My features flushed furiously. "For the _last time, _I didn't play 'grab ass' with Muraki in the hold of the Queen Camellia! I wish you'd just let it go!"

For all the good my protest had done, I might as well have not said a word. Hisoka gave me a look that said quite plainly that he didn't believe me. "Is that why you've done your hair up today?" He asked, his tone unnecessarily brutish. "Wanted to look your best in case he got you bottled up alone somewhere?"

We had reached the second floor by then and I could feel my temper rising in time with our ascent. It wasn't the first time Hisoka had taunted me about Muraki's infatuation but I was feeling much less tolerant about it than I normally did. No doubt as a direct result of my deeply entrenched feelings of guilt. I stretched out my hand to halt his progress, being careful not to actually make contact and risk a direct psychic bond. Then there'd be no hiding the times since the Queen Camellia that Muraki and I had played 'grab ass' as my young friend so eloquently put it.

"Hisoka, drop it." I said, wiping every noticeable trace of humor from my voice. Hisoka's expression remained as diligently impassive as ever but I sensed something change just behind his eyes.

We had reached the opening of the center hallway of the third floor when something came spinning towards us from the penetrating darkness at the far end of the passage. I shrieked and pulled Hisoka in front of me, positioning him as something of a meat shield much to his obvious disgust. The approaching enigma came into focus as I peered over my partners shoulder. It was a serpentine shape, dull gray in appearance with gaping black holes for eyes and a mouth, similar to the _Scream _mask from the popular movie series. It spiraled towards us, screeching to a halt just five feet away and then lunging forward suddenly, two luridly blood red snakes erupting from the black pits of its eyes and hissing into our faces. Hisoka and I reeled back, shielding our faces with our arms in the event that the snakes would attack but the whole thing seemed to be a show. The gray creature remained in place at the entrance to the hallway and came no closer, as though some invisible leash had restrained it. Looking closer, I was able to see into the depths of its gaping maw and was mystified to find that the creatures tongue was also an independent entity; namely a large black leach, swollen as though thoroughly quenched by blood. Hisoka's expression mirrored my own as he too took this alarming factor into consideration.

The creature didn't waste any more time on theatrics but started to speak, in a voice as harsh and guttural as an old hag gargling broken glass and acid. Neither Hisoka or I moved a bare inch whilst it recited its' lengthy prose, possibly on account of the agitated looking snakes hovering a bare inch or so from our suddenly much more vulnerable eyeballs.

"_Solve my riddle before you leave," _Hissed the creepy in its harsh tones. _"This is the story of the Riddling Three;_

'_Many centuries before your time of death, there came the life of an Old Buddhist priest, whose name is unknown, though his story not forgotten. This Priest traveled from the northern most island of Japan, to the Southern most tip, chasing the _Sakura Zensen. _During his fastidious travels, the priest often found himself being forced to bunk down in some of the more obscure of places. This story takes place on one of those nights. Weary from the day's travels, the priest was forced to spend the night in an abandoned temple along the mountain path that he had been traversing since the suns first light. The temple had been left in disrepair for some time and was thick with dust and wreathed in the webs of spiders. But this mattered not to our tired traveler, whom had spent the night in far less respectable conditions than this. Exhausted, the priest soon passed into a deep sleep and so remained until the first hour after midnight. _

_During that first minute of the first morning hour, a dim light that did not belong to the still sleeping sun broke the traveler out of peaceful darkness. Startled, the priest searched for the source of the light and found that it emanated strongly from the neighboring room, though he could not distinguish the source. He heard a deep and unnerving voice issue from the conduits of this bright wreath of light:_

"_Holy-Man. Priest of Buddha, who places his faith in the almighty. Can you believe in the presence of the Otherworld here tonight? Do you know who we are, Mr. Priest? Do you believe?"_

"_You are ghosts!" Exclaimed the Priest, who knew just enough to understand that it was better for him to accept without question. Something cold pressed against the bare flesh of his neck._

"_That we are Mr. Priest. We are the undead and we have come to test you. Three riddles we will present you with. If you fail to answer them correctly, we shall divide you into three parts even and devour you. We shall now begin."_

"_I can only hop to make my way, one eye alone to see the day. A single leg upon which to stand, who am I, mere mortal man?" Asked the first ghost._

"_My face is square, worn by the track, yet I can carry you upon my back. I have two teeth and three wide eyes, so who am I? Yes, who am I?" Sand the ghost of the second._

_And then, the third ghost slid around the Priest's subjective figure. "A fire burns within my chest and while it burns I never rest. And though my body is thin as rye, I never die, so what am I?"_

"_Who are we? Who are we? What is the answer you're longing to seek? Who are we? Can't you see? Who are the ghosts of the riddling three?"_

The ghoul inched closer, its' foul breath cloying my senses. "_Answer this, you Guardians two; tell me who and I let you through. Should you fail my simple task, I'll break you in half and devour each part."_

All I can say is; thank God for Hisoka. After the door puzzle in the Other Place, my brain had effectively switched itself off from riddles and went a clear blank at the prospect of working through this impending conundrum. Fortunately for me; my partner was switched on.

"I've heard this story before," Hisoka whispered over his shoulder to me, not breaking eye contact with the hovering ghoul. "Saw it in one of the library books."

"No wonder _I've _never seen anything about it then." I said crankily, looking to the side as though berating the wall. "I've been banned from the library for like the next two centuries…"

"Shh…" Hisoka urged, waving a hand over his shoulder to urge me into silence. He stood straight and tall and spoke in a very loud and distinctive voice, to ensure that his answer was not misinterpreted.

"The first," He said, "Is the ghost of the Umbrella, with the single eye at its' center, directed towards the sky and one leg, held by the arm of mortal man."

The ghoulish creature was silent for a long time but eventually conceded with a barely discernable nod. Hisoka took this as the cue to plunge forward.

"The second, is the ghost of the Geta; the Japanese wooden clog." I stared at him, utterly bewielded by how any of the creatures riddle corresponded to what the boy was saying. "It carries the entire weight of the wearer upon its back, has three eyes between its' square teeth, which are forced into the ground day after day as it is worn." Hisoka elaborated, no doubt more so for my benefit than the creatures. It gave another tiny jerking nod and with renewed confidence, Hisoka wrapped things up. "And the third was the ghost of the Paper Lantern. You light a fire within its' body that burns constantly unless extinguished by the one whom lights it. And though it is made of paper, the flame never touches it, so therefore, it never dies."  
… This sounded like total _bullshit _to me. But I waited to see what kind of reaction it would inspire from the questioning presence, still hovering a mere foot from our faces.

"_Both you and the monk answered correctly," _It finally admitted, though there was nothing grudging about that dispassionate voice. "_And with the spirits satisfied, they departed and allowed the living to move on, unhindered any further."_  
And like a piece of spaghetti being sucked between the lips of a diner, the snake like being was suddenly whipped back along the hallway and disappeared effortlessly into the wall at the far end, leaving neither a mark, nor dent upon the paintwork. For a long while, Hisoka and I remained silent, neither quite able to express our severe astonishment over what we had just been confronted with.  
"What… was that…?" Hisoka finally wondered. I had a brief, incomplete memory of Watari showing me something in one of his favorite demonology texts in the Library (before I had been banned of course), something that possessed a vague sort of similarity to this bizarre being that had just appeared before us.

"A… Guardian Ghoul."

"Huh?" Hisoka intoned.

"A minor demonic force of the Other Plane. Set to guard important passageways and entrances." I quoted, quite proud of myself for having memorized that so efficiently. "They confound you with riddles and the like and if you should fail to satisfactorily answer them, then the beastie… well, you heard what it said. Shall we proceed?"

Hisoka wasn't exactly turning cartwheels in his enthusiasm to hustle his butt any further down the hallway and since I had none too courageously hidden behind him in our first encounter with Muraki's defenses, I felt it only chivalrous to push on ahead.

We went as far as we could go together and then the hallway split in two; one heading to the left and the other to the right. Hisoka and I turned to look at one another, neither sporting much of an expression.

"Well, catch ya later." The teenager said and with not so much as a backward glance, stole down the right passage, moving with tentative ease, in order to interpret any trap that may have been coming at him. I watched him carefully until he turned the first corner and was gone and only then did I feel comfortable going on my way.

I hadn't gone more than two steps past the first turn in the hallway however, when I came across Muraki's second trap. I sighed inwardly, feeling a tiny part of myself fracture. I hadn't expected Muraki's home to be some kind of unmarked sanctuary but there had still been that tiny, ineffectual hope that he would not have favored the close proximity of death within his own living quarters. That hope was maliciously quashed in the presence of immediate death, splayed out before me as though to mock my predictable ignorance.

At first I thought that Muraki had been responsible for yet another tragedy and was appalled that he had broken his promise to me. Four corpses lay sprawled at various points throughout the passage, two male, two female. One male was slouched in an upright posture against the wall; one of the females lay flat out on her stomach. The other two resided further down the hall, curled into awkward fetal positions, like spiders that had been sprayed with poison. There was no blood, no evidence of foul play. It was as though these bodies had just been removed from their place of rest and set higgledy piggeldy about the hallway in the vain hope that an intruder may have tripped over them in the dark. I was brought to a complete standstill and something inside of my chest seemed to tighten.

I'd certainly seen worse during my time as a Guardian of Death but somehow this apparent act of betrayal left a deeper mark on me. I was as disgusted as I was shocked by it. "He just… _left _them lying out in the open?" I pondered to myself.

Then I took a closer, more rational take on the matter. These couldn't possibly be corpses. Did I honestly believe that Muraki, mad though he was, would just leave these out in the open where his servants could just stumble over them? It almost wouldn't have surprised me but my prior observation made far more sense; Muraki wouldn't risk his help coming across a corpse, so this had to be something else. Some sort of spiritual protection he had laid out in the off chance Guardians of Death invaded his house. I had never been to the upper landing myself, so I had never encountered these… defenses before. They had perhaps been here since before my last visit.

"But what are they?" I asked myself. And as though the questioning of their identity was the signal that announced their awakening, the four corpses suddenly sprang to their feet, each facing my direction but slouching from the waist, keeping their faces hidden by directing their gaze back towards their own bodies. The backs of their heads confronted me, leaving very little to interpretation.

They remained in silent pose for a matter of a minute before beginning their languid and untroubled approach in my direction. I finally got a look at their faces and was appalled to witness that where most people possessed eyes a mouth and a nose, these creatures instead presented a complete and utter lack of definition. Their faces were as blank and smooth as the surface of an egg, similar to the face of a store mannequin. The most disturbing aspect however, was the strange sound each of the creatures made. Having no mouth didn't seem to matter; each one was emitting a high-pitched groaning wail like an air raid siren that's balls hadn't yet dropped. They moved in complete unison, arms tapered in tightly against their sides but fingers craned forward in a similar representation of withered birds feet.

It would have been simple to banish these nasties, if I had some idea of what I was dealing with in the first instance. But obscure demonology was Watari's field of expertise, not mine. _My _job was to hurt things, which I would gladly do. Once I had some knowledge of just _how _I was supposed to do that.

"Dammit! Why is Watari never around when you need him?!" I grumbled, backing slowly away from the approaching horrors. And that's when a brilliant thought came to me. Watari might not have been here but I did have my phone. Why not call him and get his expert assessment?

The creepies were getting closer and closer, so I didn't waste any more time speculating on whether this was a good idea or not. I whipped out the phone and dialed Watari's number, biting my lip in mounting anxiety as the strange corpses continued to encroach on my personal space. The ring tone was broken as someone picked up on the other end and I was a little surprised by who answered.

"_Güttentag? _Yutaka Watari's phone?"

My heart sank in my chest. "Ichibana?! Is that you?"

"_Nein, _it's zat _other _German genie the Blondie's got workin' for him." The djinni muttered back, his heavily accented voice thick with sarcasm. "_Ja _it's me, ya silly sod."

"What the Hell are you doing with Watari's phone?!" I spluttered, keeping my eyes locked on the advancing mannequin like creatures. Ichibana, clearly unflustered by the frantic tenor to my voice, hefted a troubled, though in my opinion, obnoxiously casual sigh.

"Blondie's got his nose ta the grindstone, so I'm handlin' any calls he gets." The djinni said, though he hardly seemed the least bit put out about it. Ichibana always spoke as though every subject under discussion was a mildly humorous joke. "'E said under no circumstances is 'e ta be disturbed. Pretty shockin' mood e's in too. Can't say I blame 'im. Had ta break it off with that hot hunk of stuff this mornin'."

This development came as such a surprise to me that I actually stalled in my retreat from the egg faced creatures, quite remiss of the fact that this was without a doubt the most stupid thing I could do right then.

"Watari and Oriya broke up?" This statement posed more questions than it answered really. "When were they an item?"

"Oh, they weren't _really _together. Not really." Ichibana said quite conversationally. "But last night they got pretty cozy… looked like they were settin' in for the long nine yards. Then I got tha word that Enma knows 'e's screwin' round the wrong side o' the tracks and e' issues a warnin' tellin' Blondie ta keep his dick in his pants, basically. Wasn't impressed, I can tell ya that! Oriya's moods pretty shockin' too. Guess 'e was more fond a the blondie than I thought was possible. I mean, e's kinda pretty and all but 'e ain't exactly tha last hotdog in Hungry-Town if ya catch my drift, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Ichibana would have been happy to waffle on all day if I had let him but I had just noticed how close the creepies were getting and having a yarn with the djinni was not helping me none.

"Look, Ichibana I know he doesn't wanna be disturbed but I _really _gotta talk demonology with Watari right now." My back hit the wall and I realized that I had forgotten to turn the corner whilst backing away.

"Demonology, eh?" The djinni sounded positively delighted, as though I'd just announced that the koi pond was full of horny, naked supermodels. "Well I know a thang or two 'bout the Paranormal, matie. Is this somethin' I can help ya with?"

I ducked out of the way as one of the corpses arched fingers reached out to stroke my cheek. "God! I… I dunno! I sorta need you to know a bit more than a 'thing or two'! This is really important! I'm being attacked _right now!_"

"Ah, ya don't say?" He asked and this time I think he was being purposefully relaxed, just because he knew I was starting to panic. "Well, let's not bullshit 'bout anymore then, aye? Tell me what ya got in yer face."

I reversed my butt around the corner and continued to back away as the critters determinedly staggered after me, screeching accusingly, fingers wriggling like manic grubs. I swapped the phone to my left hand, using my right to withdraw the Beretta 92 handgun from the holster on my hip, leveling it at chest height on the corpses. I wasn't sure that ordinary run of the mill 9mm rounds would do any damage to a supernatural being but if it slowed them down even for just a minute, that might be the difference between keeping my head or losing it. Oh the irony of _that _particular statement!

"We're infiltrating Muraki's house! Well… I'm pretending to anyway and- he's got all these traps, these paranormal creatures guarding certain areas. Right now I've got four… kind of corpse type things coming right at me!"

"_Draugr."_

"_Draugr?_" I repeated, unfamiliar with the word. I wondered if it was a German word and if he'd forgotten that the only language I could speak was Japanese. "Ok, what's that?"

"_Draugr._" He repeated impatiently, as though I _should_ have known what he was talking about. "A revenant." He prompted when I failed to catch on and seemed increasingly frustrated when I uttered several frantically confused nuances in response. "Zombie, _dummkopf!_"

"Zombies?" I glanced towards the leering, shambling wretches but none of the glaringly obvious zombie-like features jumped out at me. The moved like zombies true but their flesh showed no signs of decomposition and they didn't resemble Maria Wong, who we had officially declared a Langsuir – a beautiful undead woman characterized as having red eyes, sharps nails, long white hair and _very _long fangs. Neither definition seemed to fit what was confronting me thank goodness. It would _definitely _mean that Muraki had violated his agreement with me.

I shook my head, more to myself than Ichibana. "No, these aren't zombies. They move similarly but their faces… they have these smooth blank faces like shop mannequins." I waved the gun over my face, as though it were necessary to provide a visual demonstration. "They're blank. Like the surface of an egg."

Ichibana was silent for a second and something seemed to flutter in my chest as the four creatures shambled closer, rocking from foot to foot like severely drunk people, still emitting that high pitched keening wail. The noise seemed to confirm whatever thoughts the djinni was having.

"Ah… I know that sound!" He gave a flighty laugh as though to mock my reaction to something that was clearly undeserving of such hysterics. "Blank-Faced Specters. Ye got nothin' ta worry 'bout."

"What? Why?" I almost felt the need to protest, on account of my reaction to what I still viewed as a genuine threat. These 'Blank-Faced Specters' continued to encroach upon me without pause and should they have possessed mouths, I had no doubt they would be moaning '_Braaaaiiins' _at me in a demanding sort of fashion'Nothing to worry about' my ass.

"Blank-Faced Specters aren't ghosts or demons." Ichibana exclaimed in a lazy, tepid sort of way. Easy for him, he wasn't here staring the damn things in their featureless faces. "They're composed entirely of _mana _energy and made ta take tha vague countenance of human bein's. But because they aren't remnants or spirits, they possess no true identity, so naturally they appear wi'out a face."

"Yes, yes, thanks for the lesson." I snapped, glancing over my shoulder to see that the specters had successfully herded me to the end of the hallway. I was almost back at the exact point where Hisoka and I had separated only minutes earlier. "How do I get rid of them though?"

"They're _mana _energy from Dr. Satan, no doubt ta keep out any persons he don't want rattlin' around the upstairs rooms. Blank-Faced Specters can be programmed to recognize certain people and if yer well and truly havin' it off with our resident Mad-Eye-"

"Playing 'grab-ass' you mean."

"-then he's no doubt programmed the critters ta recognize yer name and voice. Try introducing' yerself and see if that does the trick."

I pulled the phone away from my ear and focused the entirety of my attention on the face of the closest specter. If this didn't work it would only be a matter of seconds before it was exfoliating my face with its' fingernails.

"Mu… my-my name is… Asato Tsuzuki." I fumbled clumsily to remember my name but this was apparently adequate enough for the Specters, who immediately halted in their approach and stood up straight, arms lowering to hang limply by their sides. To my immense relief they also ceased their ongoing attack wails and fell silent. It could be no more effective then if I had flipped a switch on the backs of their heads.

Then, to my astonishment, the four figures pressed their hands against their chests and dipped their heads forward in what was unmistakably a bow. A distinctively baritone voice issued from the closest figure, which just so happened to be female.

"Name recognized: Asato Tsuzuki. Specifics: Beloved by the Master. Access to Third Floor corridor: Granted. Restricted Access. Permitted access to the following areas: Master Bedroom. Guest Bedrooms. Upstairs Balcony. Please, enjoy your time as an honored guest within Muraki Manor."

I stared nonplussed into the blank faces of the Specters. "Geez… first they try and eat my brains… now they're rolling out the red carpet! Muraki… you've got _so _much to answer for."

"Did it work, kid? Oi! Answer me! They're not slucking up yer intestines like spaghetti are they?"

I returned the phone to my ear, sliding the Beretta back into the gun holster as I did. "Yeah, it worked great. Now they're really laying the niceties on thick." I glanced back towards the dramatically reposed specters and smiled a little as I rolled my eyes. "This is so odd! … Thanks for your help, Ichibana. If it weren't for you, I doubt these guys would be acting so damn polite now."

"Ah _bitte, _mate. Weren't nothin'. I don't like to hear a pretty boy get all up in a sweat. Not unless it's for tha right reasons, o' course." I nearly blushed. "Besides, we're talking about somethin' Mad-Eye Muraki set in place and I doubt they woulda done anythin' too terrible, on account of his concern that they might mess up yer damn fine face." Bizarrely I thought back to the macabre poem Watari and I had decoded in the Dark Realm and suppressed a vagrant chill that had plundered up my spine from the depths of my stomach. That statement bothered me more than I could say. Would Muraki really have engineered this things to veer off from total decimation in the rare chance that it might have been I that wandered into their midst? Somehow, I couldn't imagine Muraki exercising such lenience's, even if there was a good chance his little beasties would carve my brain out of my skull and gobble it down like bratwurst.

"Thanks Ichibana. Listen, can I give ya a call back if I run into anything else I can't handle?"

The djinni chuckled gently. "Course, o'course. My only other alternative is ta sit around shootin' tha breeze with 003 and watch Blondie and Hot-Stuff skulk 'round with their bottom lips thrust out. Ya just give me a jingle if ya run inta anythin' that bothers ya."

"Cheers, I'll do just that. See ya."

"_Auf Wiedersehen_." He sang, hanging up abruptly and leaving me well and truly along in the company of the most truly bizarre magical concoctions I had ever seen. Muraki's knowledge of the occult must be more profound than I had ever estimated, if he was able to summon up these creatures of which I, in all my years of service, had never heard of once. Not once! How utterly bizarre that he had not spoken to me of these strange manners of security, knowing that I was to step foot in his mansion the very next day. But I gathered that this was the dark humor of the man who had long maintained his intrinsic infatuation with me. Perhaps he thought I was getting some sort of a treat by being offered this oppurtunity to test myself. We would certainly be having words once I got that loopy delinquent alone again! What kind of treat was this?! Hadn't the guy ever heard of Liquer Chocolates?

One of the male Specters gestured towards me, palm up, fingers together. It spoke in a beguiling obliquely feminine tone, offering a truly bizarre contrast to the deep voice of the aforementioned female attendant. "Would the young master fancy a cup of tea?"

"Um… no thanks." I said, not pausing to consider just how ridiculous this was all getting. "Could you please show me the way to the Master Bedroom?"

My face heated up as I saw the Specters all turn towards one another and if they had mouths, they would have no doubt been smiling knowingly. It seems that _mana essence _wasn't the only by-product Muraki had instilled these creatures with.

"But of course, Master Tsuzuki. Allow us to escort you."

"Um… thanks." I muttered, watching cautiously as two of the Specters fell into step behind me, indicating that I was to swiftly follow the remaining pair into the hallway that I had just been liberally driven from. I wasn't sure that I trusted myself enough to question precisely why I wished to visit Muraki's bedchamber first. I knew for a fact that he was not going to be there waiting for me (thank goodness). I didn't have any reason to go snooping about, not even to put up the appearance of having done so. However, it would be ages before the other Guardians would complete their rounds of their allocated sections of the house and what was the point in just waiting around with nothing to do? I rather felt that I was tempting fate by visiting Muraki's room but I couldn't resist being midly curious about this personal space in which the strange, perverted and brutal doctor rested his head and body by the days end. There was something… deliciously deviant about gaining entrance to his bedroom whilst he was absent from his dwelling that filled my chest with a kind of thirsting excitement. What secrets of Muraki might be hidden in the dark crevices of a bedside cabinet, beneath the bed or atop a magnificent oak wardrobe? Perhaps he kept a journal, much like the one residing within my jacket pocket, telling of his exploits, explaining his mannerisms and reasoning behind the atrocities he conducted? No… no, I simply could not imagine that Muraki would possess the consideration to commit his deeds to paper. This could be disastrously deterimental should the writings fall into the wrong hands. But more so… deranged though he undoubtedly was, Muraki wasn't one prolong the memories of his crimes. I understood that about him very well. You would be wrong however to assume that it was a show of remorse on his part, an inkling of something sembling human empathy, provoking him to resent and furthermore cast aspersions upon himself. No. The lack of reminder was pure and simple apathy. Muraki did not care _enough _about his crimes to bother keeping record of them, whether material or immaterial.

I would be sincerely grateful, if this was the case. More than anything, I feared entering that room and uncovering some shred of reminder of who Muraki truly was. Or had been, before his passion for me escalated to the intrinsic degree that it became vital to shirk his previous carnal acts and seek a means to inspire my understanding and perhaps yet, forgiveness. My feelings toward Muraki were delicate; sustained predominately by infatuation, curiosity and a newfound lust that had never wrought me so thoroughly before Muraki entered into my world. I had restrained myself since the first moment I registered the stirring of hormones within my body, not sure how anyone could deign to lay bare their soul before the cursed eyes and damned heart of the demon-prodigy Asato Tsuzuki. I had carried this conception since my childhood, my feelings of inadequacy, distrust in my own confidence should it ever lightly escalate and the final grudging acceptance that no one ever, not _ever_, would want me.

And so, to be forthrightly confronted by someone like Muraki; who, if you were to ignore everything else, was supremely beautiful, intoxicating and persistent, had an enthralling effect on me. It would be difficult for anyone to understand, to sympathize with. I was a man and because I had no desire to be betrayed, I had allowed myself to remain chaste for almost a century of life. Needless to say that my hormones were embarrassingly receptive to Muraki's passionate declamations. Whenever he touched me, locked his gaze upon mine or kissed my lips, with all my heart I wanted to surrender. It was torture, to desire his physical expressions of appreciation and to be routinely confronted by the truth of his past and the darkness of his corrupted nature. If God had not turned his back upon me, I might have even dared to pray for one favor in his grace: That he would erase Muraki's past, so that I could be with him, touch him, adore him and surrender myself to him without the consistent presence of this guileless guilt.

I wondered if Muraki had anything in his bedroom that concerned me? (Apart from a few stains on the sheets, I mean.) Perhaps a cherished photograph? It wouldn't have surprised me that he would be able to acquire one without my express permission, not after Watari hacked into the Count's computer and found just what _he _had cluttering up his hard-drive with.

Well, I had plenty of time to kill. And I'm sure Muraki would certainly not have minded my presence within his bedroom. (I'm sure I had been there many times already, in his imagination.) So, I decided I would give the place a good turning over, just because I could.

We passed a picture frame hanging on the wall and I stopped to stare at, forcing my Specter escorts to wait patiently for me to resume my way towards the bedroom. But I couldn't take my eyes off of what lay confined within the exquisitely crafted golden framework.

It was a very large picture, as I suppose most family portraits among the upper class are. For that was what I was seeing, I'm sure. There was a very tall, slender man standing at the back, his face wearing that unmistakable expression of haughtiness that Muraki was so fond of exhibiting when he endured failing moments of impatience with me. Other than that, there was very little similarity between them. Muraki as I knew him now was very fair and his build was very strong, his features poised between delicate abstract femininity and divinely exquisite masculine grace. Muraki senior was none of these things.

For a start, his chin was very weak and he had attempted to disguise this by the faint shadow of stubble stretching up from his neck to beneath his perfectly trimmed side burns. His dark black hair was brushed neatly and his not unattractive face was stern, ice blue eyes seeming to mask some deeper emotive. I got the impression that he had been taken to be a rather severe man but there was something about him; the vague twinkle of his eyes and the roguish tilt to his upper lip that suggested he'd perhaps possessed a lighter side. Thought not as striking as Muraki, he had the kind of looks that were charismatic and favorable; if not distinctive.

Muraki's father stood with one strong hand on the slender shoulder of the woman seated beside him and slightly more pronounced by favor of the artist. Muraki's genetics had clearly favored his mothers' side of the family more than his fathers; though I was stumped as to which parent had contributed his considerable frame, because neither of them was exactly robust. Muraki's mother was even weedier than her husband but she was full chested and extremely attractive; if perhaps a little too thin. Her eyes, the same cold shade of gray as Muraki's, didn't seem focused on anything in particular and her smile was serene, as though she hadn't a clue where she was or what was going on. Muraki had inherited her albino white skin and disturbingly silver-blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders in composed curls that Watari had always aspired to but never been able to perfect. Her lips were painted a sharp and vivacious red and the fingernails that rested delicately in the curve of her lap matched them perfectly.

Two teenaged boys stood at the forefront. Judging by the smallest ones silvery mane and beautifully ostentatious expression, I didn't have much trouble figuring out that I was gazing at a very young Kazutaka Muraki. He was very skinny back then, built a lot like Hisoka. He even resembled him somewhat, though his face was a lot sharper in contrast to my young partners. His light eyebrows were nearly invisible, though the artist had attempted to flesh them out somewhat more than they had undoubtedly been in real life.

What really drew my eye however, was the face of the second boy in the portrait. Or rather lack thereof. Someone had cut the face out of the portrait completely, leaving a gaping hole, revealing white canvas beneath. I turned to the equally blank face of the Specter closest to me, which seemed to be gazing at the exact spot on the portrait that I had been examining.

"Is that Muraki's half brother?" Muraki himself hadn't spoken with me about his brother, though I had a fair understanding of what he had planned for me in the basement of the Kyoto University. Even if my memory of the entire time within that cold metal tomb was fragmented to say the least.

The Specter inclined its neck towards me. "That is the Masters half-brother, yes. His name was Saki Shidou and he was the product of Yeryuto Muraki's dalliances with one of his female patients. A woman by the name of Tamiko Shidou."

"Tamiko Shidou?" I wondered out loud, convinced by a familiar twang of consciousness that this name was familiar to me somehow. Though for the life of me, I couldn't think why. I gathered I had heard it once in passing, though it hadn't been important enough to commit to memory. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, is it not? "Why is his face gone?"

The head female Specter answered this time and her deep voice sounded as empathetic as I suppose these conjurations were capable of. "The Master despises any reminders of the Shidou boys presence within the mansion. He does not enter the boys room but has erased all pictures of him outside of that boundary."

I wondered how terrible this Saki Shidou had been, if he had indeed been responsible for aiding Muraki in becoming one of the most diligently terrible foes the Summons Section had ever encountered.

"Shall we continue?" Enquired the squeaky voiced male Specter. I nodded needlessly and was just preparing to press on, when I noticed the wall just opposite where I was standing congeal slightly in the center, as though a drop of water had fallen into a great lake and disturbed the stillness. I blinked rapidly, wondering if my tired mind was just throwing things up but the disturbance occurred again, more distinctively this time. The wall liberally twitched, right in the center, forming a vague sort of circle. The next thing I knew, it had opened up completely and I looked on, utterly fascinated to see that a second vast hallway lay within the walls of the one that I and my entourage of Blank-Faced specters, currently occupied. Only the hallway that had just opened up appeared to be made of congealing pant, rust and rotted woodwork panels. And out from the newly formed entrance lunged Terazuma, face blotted with what appeared to be soot and the heel of his shoe on fire. He quickly stomped it out before spinning back around, his powerful Colt Peacemaker aimed down the passageway he had just vacated and his smouldy expression was positively livid.

"Stay the fuck _BACK!_" He roared and I took a step away before I realized that it wasn't me he was talking to. The unresponsive recepient of Terazuma's threat shambled from out of the rear darkness at the back of the aged hall, seeming to walk with its knees together. I couldn't understand why at first, until I it passed through the light from the single globe down the dark lane, which threw its' features into disturbingly frank perspective.

At first, it looked very much like rather short, naked human being that's ankles and upper body had been bound with mouldy rags. Then I registered that it was featureless; bearing no specific sexual organs whatsoever, though its' face was wholly more expressive than the Blank Faced Specters. Its' eye sockets were empty and though it possessed an upper jaw fringed with glaringly white teeth, there lay nothing below this, neck and throat lain bare and oozing thick viscous spurts of violently red blood. The pungently gray skin looked almost plastic; shiny and crumpling when the joints of the body moved. It had arms, though they appeared to have been amputated from just above the elbow up and it had no feet, tottering unsteadily forward on spindly stumps that somehow appeared completely formed and even natural to this bizarre creatures anatomy. Even more astonishing was the speed at which it moved. Rather than a suspected slow and languid approach, the creature moved with a kind of beautiful grace, bouncing forward on its spindly stumps, then trotting along with unexpected rapidity. The nose consisted of two sharp slits and the head was bald, though appeared to be secreting a kind of whitish substance that almost resembled semen.

I glanced at Terazuma's expression; that forced countenance of rage some people wear to mask their fear. His face was scratched and marked and there were countless tears in his shirt front, exposing raw, bloodied skin underneath. His hair was mussed, indicating that he perhaps had not had as easy a time of things as I had.

"I said STAY BACK!!" Terazuma repeated, taking a step away himself as the critter happily ignored his command and continued its' attempt to get all up in our faces. I wondered if the same principal that worked on the Blank-Faced Specters would work on this new individual, figuring it wouldn't harm none to try.

"I am Asato Tsuzuki!" I called, in a proud and happy voice. For all the good it did, I may as well have announced that I was the Ice-cream man and here's a free triple deck chocolate cone because the bound figure instead _increased_ its' forward momentum. Terazuma turned glowing eyes toward me.

"Why on _earth _are you telling it your name?!" He snapped, having of course not the faintest idea why I'd just bothered to introduce myself to the approaching horror. "There were about five of these things trying to rip my guts out not two minutes ago and you wanna exchange damn pleasantries?!"

"Well, why not just shoot the damn thing?!" I inquired rudely, backing away from the opening in the wall. Our new friend was attempting to sling one of its' pointy little stumps out but was having a hard time lifting it high enough. It ended up tripping, landing face down on the carpeted floor. Not that it seemed to leave any lasting damage because a second later the damnable thing was _crawling _towards us, leveraging its' grotesque body along with its' shoulders and hips.

Terazuma scowled, stepping backwards and landing on the feet of one of the Blank-Faced Specters. "Oh – Geez! I would but I used up all my bullets on the other four!" His slanted eyes flashed to the Beretta 92 sitting snugly in my holster and before I could turn my hip away, he'd abruptly appropriated it. "It's no Peacemaker but it'll do-" He groaned, taking careful deliberate aim before unloading two perfectly marked shots into the back of the bound creatures cranium, splattering its' decomposed brains out through the hole in its' jaw. A revolting smell drifted up, almost gagging me as the beast shrieked and rolled backwards, onto the stumps of its' legs. It was close enough now to offer me a demonstration of just how it had been able to injure Terazuma without the use of any visible limbs. Reeling from the sudden impact, it lunged suddenly forward and three extremely thin gray arms, sporting spindly blindingly sharp nails erupted from the hole beneath its' upper jaw, each hand aiming for a different sensitive area of my body. The first hand scratched five stinging marks down my face and I only got my eyes shut just in time. I felt the sharp little nails tear my eyelids clean in two. The second hand tore open the front of my shirt, sheering clean across one of my nipples causing it to burn unbearably. The third hand made a glancing swipe at my abdomen, obviously in an attempt to send my intestines spilling across the floor but I was able to twist my body out of the way just in time. Terazuma unloaded a third bullet directly into the bowels of the creatures glaring neck cavity which felled the horror once and for all. With a final keening wail it tipped backwards onto the floor, expiring in a thick cloud of vapour.

I tenderly fingered the wounds across my face, biting my lip against the stinging sensation of my skin healing. My chest followed suit, though it still felt very tender and my nipple continued to throb and burn, even after the cut had closed over.

Once I was sure my eyelids were properly healed, I glanced up at Terazuma, wiping blood out from between my lashes. "What the fuck was that thing?"

The shape-shifter, returned to his comfortably cool façade, grunted as he spun the gun about on his fingers, managing to shift the barrel towards himself and then offering it back to me, handle first.

"Hopping corpse." He muttered, stuffing his own empty Peacemaker back into its' holster and instead tugging out his customary black baton and giving it a firm flick so that it extended to full length. This was a weapon he had favored back in his life as a policeman/detective and it was an instrument I had only ever seen him use to brilliant and devestating effect. Though some might have scoffed at a Guardian of Death enforcing such a seemingly primative human weapon (I know I did at first), Terazuma proved remarkably dilligent with it, able to bring down formidable demonic adverseries with his natural strength and skill. It was his chosen back up weapon, in situations where he wasn't able to use his ulterior form, due to considerable building restrictions.

I too had a back up weapon in this case; a Japanese _tanto_, a combat knife originally carried by samurai before the 16th century, used primarily (appropriately enough) as a reserve weapon. I'd had a little training in knife combat during my pre-Guardian days but this was conducted only in the event of a non-magic emergency and as such, no one except Terazuma took it very seriously. To be perfectly frank, he and Hisoka were probably the only two Guardians of Death who had any hand-to-hand combat training. The rest of us were embarrassingly inept if we found ourselves without magical enforcement.

"A hopping corpse?" I had a vague understanding of what this was, though I'd never seen one before. The idea came from ancient belief that centuries ago, if the body cart that came by the villages to deposit the dead became too full, the undertaker would bewitch the remaining corpses, forcing them to stand up and follow the cart to the place where the bodies would be desposed of. However, they couldn't risk the bodies going too far off course, taking flight or even attempting to kill the bewitcher, so before the reanimation was cast, the feet and arms would be severed (which kept the corpses perpetually off balance) and bound their ankles together, causing them to hop rather than walk. The lower jaw was also removed, to prevent the bewitched corpse from speaking; for fear that it would be used as a sort of medium, projecting dark prophecies from the Other Place.

"Ya." Terazuma grunted, poking at the wet patch on the floor where the corpse had fallen. "Trust Muraki to have something this revolting up his sleeve."

"This creature is not belonging to the master." One of the Blank-Faced Specters piped up and Terazuma, finally noticing them, raised the baton defensively as though he were preparing to knock their featureless faces right off of their necks. I raised a hand to prevent this inspired urge from going forward.

"It's okay, they're harmless." I insisted, my point enforced somewhat by one of the male specters sudden profound desire to play with my hair. "They're just _majorly _creepy. And damn polite too. Show you just about anything you wanna see."

"Would you like a cup of tea?" The male specter asked, head inclined towards Terazuma's fiesty expression. I don't think I had the shape-shifter entirely convinced, (Hell, I wasn't entirely convinced myself) but he showed a profound leap of faith in me by lowering the baton to his side and straightening up.

"'F'you say so." He grunted, cracking his neck from side to side as though working out a knot. "Damn fucking things ambushed me from out of a hall cupboard and when I made a dash for it, I ran down what I thought was a dead end hall. Then it just kind of… opened up."

"But… you were on the ground floor." I reasoned, glancing toward the still gaping chasm in the wall; its' edges still bubbling merrily away, reminding me unaccountably of one of Watari's potions. "How did it bring you all the way up here?"

"There were stairs." Terazuma said, walking back towards the hole and peering back inside. "Looks like it ain't used all that often either. It was just dumb luck that I happened to run across it. Probably something that Muraki guy worked into the house."

"When he was first experimenting with _mana _properties." One of my resident tour guides explained helpfully. "He started small and worked his way up. The placement of the hallways between the walls, was his tried and true attempt to achieve the profoundly difficult ability of metaphysical reconfiguration. A means of movement out of synch with the physical world."

Terazuma grunted in response; a grunt that conveyed so many layers and stepped back into the reconfigured passageway. "Well yippee for Muraki. I'm just glad it was here when I needed it." His dark eyes turned on me again. "You haven't caught sight of him yet, either?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I was just about to take a peek in his bedroom when you and our friend the Hippity-Hopper came barreling in."

Terazuma sighed. "No luck either. Just a whole lot a damn traps. Hope Kanuuki is watching out for herself." He added as an afterthought.

I almost teased him about his soft show of concern for his partner but thought better of it. "I'm sure she's fine. You watch your back too, alright Hajime?"

"It's _Terazuma_." The shapeshifter growled, turning his back on me and stomping back up into the hallway, which closed slowly to match the distance he put between it and himself. "Why is that so hard for you to remember?!"

As soon as Terazuma was safely out of sight, I requested the Blank faced specters to conduct me further forwards and we had soon arrived outside of Muraki's door. His given name was carved into a gold plate, just above face height, leaving no doubt that we had arrived at the correct bedroom.

"Would you mind waiting outside?" I asked, resting my hand on the door handle, though looking over my shoulder as I addressed my creepy, though delightfully friendly entourage. "I promise not to take anything."

"You have access. Please go right ahead." The deep voiced female declared pleasantly.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" The male asked, for the third time and I smiled, finding against all reason that I was growing quite fond of these _mana _servants. Even if they _had _been about to eat my brains not a half hour ago.

"No, that's quite alright. I won't be too long."

"Take your time." They chorused cheerfully, as I opened the door and stepped into the room. I shut the door behind me, taking a good long look around at the place Muraki resided. It immediately made me feel ashamed of my own bedroom. His room was the same size as my apartment. His _bed _nearly the same size as my own bed_room_!

The ceiling was high and the walls painted a mellow cream. There was nothing incredibly distinctive about it, to be honest. Everything was just overwhelming because of the grand scale. The bed, though a luxurious King, had a plain embroided bedspread and lots of soft, comfy pillows and throw cushions. I couldn't believe how much room there was in it! Five or six people could have squeezed in quite comfortably.

The curtains were a royal red and tied tightly in the middle, rather similar to the curtains in the restaurant Muraki booked us into. What now felt like a million years ago. There was a couch in the same room and the biggest television I had ever seen, mounted on the floor before it. He had a living room in his own bedroom. There was a coffee table before the television and heaped upon it, (very neatly I might add) were a variety of medical texts, papers and notes, all regarding various hospital cases from what I could surmise. I even saw one document pertaining to the woman with the anueyrism; the case he had just returned from.

I walked over to a cabinet by the window, having noticed a few photo frames that appeared to be well cherished. They were the only photographs in the room.

The first one I examined was a photograph of a very young silver haired boy, holding hands with an equally young dark haired girl. They both looked embarrassed, as though they had been caught on a playdate but the girl was smiling through her embarrassent, whilst the boy continued to look uneasy. The second was a group photo and appeared to have been taken when Muraki was in high school. He looked the same as he did in the portrait but his smile seemed wholesome in this photograph and he genuinely looked as though he was having a good time. Standing next to him, at the back of the group was a tall, exceptionally handsome boy with chin length dark brown hair and almost hazel eyes. This had to be Oriya Mibu and I think I was starting to understand what Watari saw in him. If he had only continued to get progressively more handsome as he'd grown older, then he was no doubt a stunner by now! The Oriya in the picture seemed predisposed and was gazing off slightly to the side, appearing bored and haughty, but very beautifully so. Standing beside him, wearing a sweet and cheerful smile was a girl I recognized immediately as Ukyou Sakagumi, the woman I had met two weeks ago, just outside the gates of the mansion. Her hair was shorter in this picture and she seemed to be in a much better mood than when I had seen her last.

Muraki had said that she was his fianceé but in this picture, she seemed to be holding hands with the fourth figure; the boy whose face had again been cut out. The older half-brother, Saki Shidou. I placed the picture frame down, worrying at my upper lip thoughtfully. If Saki had been dating Muraki's future fianceé back in high school, then it no doubt had caused friction between them, which in later years had only added to the extreme level of hatred my paramour openly expressed towards his long deceased half-brother.

I glanced over the other photographs and witnessed Muraki on the day of his graduation; he and Ukyou standing alone with their diploma's, neither appearing particularly happy but in adverse rather sad and unsatisfied. Oriya and the brother were not included in this shot, though I figured that there were countless reasons for this and none of them had to be particularly incremental.

The next photograph showed Muraki outside what must have been the Tokyo University, standing beside a blandly smiling Oriya. That made me wonder if Oriya's family had been responsible for caring for Muraki following the deaths of both his parents. Muraki never spoke of any fellow relatives stepping up to shoulder the responsibility and surely the servants had no right to stand as an authority figure. In this photograph, Muraki had lost his weedy appearance and was starting to flesh out a bit. He looked healthy and handsome; now sporting a sophisticated pair of glasses and a familiar cocky grin. Oriya's hair was longer, as was Muraki's but something had obviously happened between high school and university because Oriya appeared much thinner and much less handsome than he had before, his skin almost pale and waxy, pressing in against the bones of his cheeks. In addition, he didn't even appear to be attending the university itself, rather just stopping in for a visit. I moved onto the next picture, pondering over this silent, untold story before me.

This was a picture of Muraki and Ukyou and I gathered from the scenary and the positioning of their bodies, that it was an engagement party. Muraki looked older here and very similar to how I best recognized him; hair covering one eye and beautifully symmetrical features. Ukyou's hair was still worn short and she had carefully cut bangs. She was a very pretty girl and her smile was disarming, so warm and innocent. Her eyes gazed up at Muraki with fondness but the depth of love I interpreted from her, didn't appear to extend as dramatically as I felt it necessary between two lovers. Or maybe I was just looking at things too deeply. She'd certainly had to have had strong feelings for him if she'd agreed to marry him. But I couldn't shake that peculiar niggling sensation that I was viewing a visual record of a scene that could most accurately be compared to how Watari and I would look tying the knot.

I gazed down at the final photo; a picture of Ukyou, Muraki and Oriya sitting on the deck of Kokakuro. This was certainly taken just shortly after Oriya was instated as master there. Ukyou was laughing, one hand up as though to ward the camera away, Oriya was looking slightly surly, a _shamisen _balanced on his lap and fingers poised atop the strings as though he'd just been in the midst of playing it when the camera operator had interupted. Muraki was smoking a cigarette, appearing unconcerned by the camera's presence.

I was looking at a group of people who had apparently been friends since they were teenagers, though in Muraki and Ukyou's apparent case, perhaps longer still. Since childhood. But what of the brother, Saki Shidou, who had been part of the group in high school but was now callously cut from physical memory by Muraki's lingering grudge? It seemed sad to me somehow that this was the result, especially when the teenaged Muraki had appeared so happy in that photograph… what could have gone so wrong?

My soul heavy with the weight of unanswered questions and empathetic regrets, I steered myself towards the bed and after shucking my shoes off, lay down upon the freshly pressed sheets, arms crossed languidly behind my head, cushioned by the numerous amounts of pillows beneath me. There had been no photographs of me on the stand, not a bare hint to indicate that Muraki had pursued me visciously since childhood, when he'd first stumbled across the photograph of me in his Grandfather's file. Then it occurred to me of course that he couldn't just parade it out in the open, especially if he was engaged to Ukyou. Perhaps he kept the photo of me close. In his inside jacket pocket or even in his wallet. And then I wondered if he would risk taking it with him today, when he was going to visit Ukyou?

Having considered this, I rolled over and opened the bedside drawers one at a time, finding what I had been searching for by the fourth drawer. There it was, that same picture of me in the hospital bed, one eye bandaged over, the other blankly staring. It was well worn and dog eared around the edges, as though handled many times over.

I took the photograph out and stared up at it, into the face of my once living self. I wondered if Muraki spent many nights, lying in bed, staring at this photo and thinking about me? My face flushed furiously as such a deviant thought passed through my mind, that I could scarcely believe I had the audacity to consider it. I found myself wondering if whilst looking at this picture if Muraki had ever masturbated to it? Visualizing myself actually enacting his lurid fantasies as he worked his hand down over his cock, squeezing and pulling and moaning my name, perhaps brushing his tongue over his bottom lip, throat dry as he visualized my naked body squirming beneath him, bucking on the end of that thick hard shaft I had only ever witnessed the once…

Blood rushed to my groin and I could actually feel myself becoming aroused by my own lurid imagination. It was difficult not to enjoy it however, regardless of how creepy and perverted it may have seemed. It was _glorious _to think of someone becoming that aroused by me, someone viewing me as a sexual object. (Someone who wasn't the Count anyway…) I worked my hand down over the front of my pants and squeezed the developing bulge I found there, gasping as a spike of sweet pain seemed to bury itself in the dead of my guts. What I really wanted to do, was just tug my cock out and give it a good working over, do what I had just imagined Muraki doing whilst thinking about me. I wondered, that when Muraki and I eventually made love (It was not so much a possibility now as it was a certainty. The only irregular variable in this was _when_) whether it would be here? Was this the place that I would finally surrender my long maintained chastity? I wouldn't have minded so much. The bed would be a simply divine place to make love. So big… and soft… I could just see myself lying face down, hands gripping a pillow tightly and muffling my cries as Muraki moved in behind me and thrust himself deep between my buttocks, raging fire through my loins and splintering my inhibitions like dried twigs.

I was becoming far too aroused by such thoughts and it was with a heavy heart (and an even heavier groin) that I reigned myself in forcefully and placed the photograph of myself back where I had found it. One could only dally on such thoughts for so long and after contemplating a few distracting images (such as Mr. Konoe in a mink teddy) that my hormones reluctantly allowed themselves to be bridled and I left Muraki's bedroom composed in mind and body.

I made a few half-hearted glances into the neighboring rooms as I walked back towards the hall entrance, listening to the consistent commentary supplied by my blank-faced hosts with only one ear open. That is until we came across one particular doorway that forced me into performing a double take as I very nearly strolled past it.

Just like Muraki's door, the name of the intended occupant had been carved into a gold plate, positioned just a little above eye height. Unlike Muraki's however, the name of the occupant was unclear. In fact, the name had been scratched out. Another name, written in what appeared to be a black marker, scrawled beneath the plate in what was unmistakably a childs hand, was also indecipherable, as it too had been scribbled out. Another name beneath that one was also struck out and so determinedly as such that it was entirely impossible to tell what these names had initially read. A line of thick black question marks seemed to underline the rejected names and these themselves had been deeply etched with the black marker and leaned hastily to one side as though written in intense frustration.

I whipped the mahogany journal out of my inside jacket pocket and sure enough, the inability to adequately name the occupant and owner was identical. This could hardly be a coincidence. The owner of this room and the author of the journal were one in the same.

"Um… whose room is this?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to prompt an answer from my unusually silent entourage. The faces stared at me blankly and for once their nature seemed to entirely match their faces because they appeared unable to provide me with the answer I sought.

I tried a different tact. "Is it his brothers?" I played a hunch. "Kazutaka's, I mean. Is this… _was _this, Saki Shidou's room?"

This relief from exorcising any leniances seemed to work for the Blank-Faced Spectars and they collectively relaxed. I knew because their shoulders all lowered as one, as though they had been holding them stiff since the moment we had faced this door.

"That is correct." Said the female spectar, her featureless features aimed towards me. "But we cannot speak about this room. The young master has requested we maintain a certain… reverence, if you will."

I tried to open the door but it was locked.

"No one goes in," confirmed the male spectar. "It is not cleaned and it is not seen. The young master maintains that we treat it as a gentleman must treat a woman; not to enter unless given express permission."

I snorted with a certain lack of grace. Trust Muraki to make _that _manner of comparison. Typical bloody pervert. And typical bloody hypocrite at that!

Now gentleman I may have been but I was also intrigued nonetheless by the answers this room no doubt held. I had come across this journal in the Other Place, therefore, there must have been a connection. And therefore, I had every justifiable reason, for blowing the lock off the door.

"You mustn't!" Protested the male blank-faced specter as I shouldered open the door and stepped inside, reholstering my beretta as I did.

"But I must." I insisted, watching with some amusement as the Blank-Faced specters tried to decide whether it was worth pursuing me into the room and sort of compromising by jamming themselves into the doorway, making it impossible for either of us to make it in or out of the room. Whilst they tried to resolve this little debacle, I took in my surroundings with an excitable air of one whom was about to figure something out.

It was a very normal boys room. The bed, wedged into the far corner, was single and covered in blue sheets. In fact, the entire room had a rather blue feel about it. The curtains were drawn and a thick layer of dust coated everything, supporting the Specters words that this room was not entered at all, not even to be cleaned.

The walls were plastered with posters of movies that must have been showing at the time the boy had last set foot in this room, motorbikes and cars, most with half naked, g-string clad girls adorning the bumpers or respective leather seats. The boy certainly had guts hanging such things in the house of such a prestiged family and I couldn't help but admire his cheek. It reminded me of something Watari might have done when he was a teenager.

The top of the chest of drawers to one side of the room was so packed with photographs that they were hanging off of the wooden sides, a few already littered across the floor. I peered at all of them and was delighted to find that these particular pictures had not received Muraki's ill treatement. For the first time I was able to glimpse the face of the boy known as Saki Shidou.

He and Hisoka could have been twins and I had said as much the first time I had seen him; outside of the restaurant, where I was to meet Muraki for dinner. Only Saki appeared slightly more rouguish, judging by the quirk of his upper lip, which suggested he was something of a scallywag, to say the least. He was smiling and laughing in every photograph, whereas Hisoka would barely smile at a pay rise.

And I thought it was no wonder the name across the door and diary were scribbled out because the boy I had met, introduced himself as Pandora; the pets name given to him by the demon he was no doubt contracted to call master. I wasn't a hundred percent certain how the Pet process went exactly but I gathered it caused a severe identity crisis, as the pet struggled to come to terms with who they were in the present and who they were before their untimely death.

Pandora was Saki Shidou.

_**- End Part One -**_


	27. Tsuzuki: Death Precedes Us Pt: 2

_**Dark Adaptation**_

_**Death Precedes us with a Knowing Smile: Part 2 of 1**_

A Once-Human.

Similar to a Guardian of Death in that the entire soul and renewed shell of a body had been brought back to life. Only the Guardians of Death served Hades and who in Gods name knew who Saki Shidou was bound to serve? What terrible contract had he made, simply to spare himself from dying?

I gazed idolently from the chest of drawers to the wall beside it. Six short samurai swords were on display here and one empty stand revealed that the longest of the piece was currently MIA. The bookshelf contained many tomes regarding the martial arts, in particular kendo and Aikido, as well as complex novels regarding Japanese folklore, philosophy and science related texts. This Saki may have been an audacious lad but he was clearly not stupid, judging by the material he had been studying. A book had been left open on his bedside table and it made my heart ache to think that he would never be returning to finish it. The jacket cover was dusty and I couldn't read the title through the grime that obscured it.

On the writing desk near the window, a thick textbook had been left open. I wandered over and sat down on the dusty wooden chair, picking the textbook up to uncover several handwritten pages beneath it. Saki Shidou had obviously been doing some research.

_**Dissociation and its' relation to the mark of the Sufferage**_

_Dissociation is a mental process, which produces a lack of connection in a person's thoughts, memories, feelings, actions, or sense of identity._

_During a traumatic experience, a person may dissociate the memory of the place and circumstances of the trauma from his/her ongoing memory, resulting in a temporary mental escape from the fear and pain of the trauma and, in some cases, a memory gap surrounds the experience._

_Therefore, the person separates themselves from the experience with a sort of mental caul. This perhaps explains what happened to that patient of Grandfather's whose soul was 'spirited away'._

_There have been many cases of lost patients and spiritualists have theorized that such patients who have experienced great psychological trauma find it easier to cope by separating their minds from reality or by adversely creating a barrier or caul, that ultimately protects them from the memory of that trauma._

_Regular sexual abuse dissociating: Have very disrupted personal experience. So many hours of so many days are lost._

_At one end are mild dissociative experiences common to most people, such as daydreaming, highway hypnosis or getting 'lost' in a book or movie, all of which involve 'losing touch' with conscious awareness. I.e: Fading out._

_**Dissociative Disorders: **__Multiple Personality Disorder._

_Dissociative amnesia_

_Dissociative fugue_

_Depersonalisation disorder_

_**Of particular interest to case: **__Dissociative Identity Disorder._

_When faced with overwhelmingly traumatic situations from which there is no physical escape, a child may resort to 'going away' in his or her head. Children typically use this ability as an extremely effective defense against acute physical and emotional pain, or anxious anticipation of that pain._

_Over time however, for a child who has been repeatedly physically and or sexually assaulted, defensive dissociation becomes reinforced and conditioned. Repeated dissociation may result in a series of __**separate entities, or mental states, which may eventually come to dominate the central identity.**_

_Most frequent precursor is extreme physical, emotional and sexual abuse in childhood. Incidence rates are even higher among sexual-abuse survivors and individuals with chemical dependencies._

_Depressive symptoms: Lose sense of self, analgesia (being unable to feel pain). Provide approximate inaccurate answers. People suffering through dissociative disorders may also display such behaviors as sexaul dysfunctions, self-mutilation, aggressive impulses, suicidal impulses and acts of impairement in personal relationships. (Perhaps indicative of that patient? Adversely, it is of some concern to me when considering how Kazutaka's mother treats him.)_

_But of particular interest is __**dissociative identity disorder.**__ When a person intermittently experiences two or more identities, he/she may have DID._

_While experiencing the new identity, a separate personality takes control and the person is unable to remember important and personal information about him or herself._

_Alters/egos. Each personality has its' own personal history and identity and takes on a totally separate name._

_At least two of these identities or personality states recurrently take control of the persons behavior. _

_Inability to recall important personal info that is too extensive to be explained by ordinary forgetfullness._

_History of severe physical/sexual abuse usually the main precursor._

_Self-mutilation usually occurs; individual bears scars from self-inflicted injuries or physical abuse._

Grandfather's patient? Was he talking about me?

I couldn't pretend to understand a lot of what was written there but if it had anything to do with me I couldn't just neglect it. I wanted to hold onto it but I wasn't sure whether I'd be allowed to take anything out of the room. I held onto it, trying to decide whether I should try and take it with me when a dust covered object beside the book on the bedside table caught my eye. I slipped the research notes in my pocket and moved over to perch upon the bed, giving the credenza my apt attentions. A picture frame had been placed face down and when I lifted it, it left a clean rectangle carved into the thick dust. I brushed the sides of the frame absentmindedly before holding it up for inspection.

A mousy haired boy, whom I immediately recognized as Saki, held the hand of an equally small and rosy cheeked girl, whose blonde hair flecked every which way in rigorous curls. They couldn't have been more than six or seven respectively in this shot.

Each one of them was tucked under the respective arm of a man who sat between them; a man who wore the same rougish grin as the older Saki had displayed, one eye slyly winking at whomever was taking the picture.

I gathered that the girl was Saki's half-sister, this Seki he had mentioned in his journal but I had no name for the man who sat between them and I didn't recognize him at all. It had to have been 'Papa' but he certainly didn't look like any Papa I had ever met. In fact, he looked rather like a muso.

His short blond hair was spiky and serrated by dark red foils. He had several piercings running up the shell of each ear and chunky rings adorning both thumbs as well as fingers. There was a simple gold band on the ring finger to signify that he had indeed been married (though, from what I had learnt in the diary this was no longer the case) but it looked compartively understated compared to the clunky, silver jewellwry. The man wore bands of chain around each wrist and a t-shirt with a shockingly loud English logo for a band I had never heard of. He also wore jeans and black lace up boots.

However, though this all sounded rather intimidating, there was nothing fierce about this man at all. His brown eyes were gentle and he had a very friendly smile. I could tell by the way his arms were slung around the kids that he loved them. But the inconsistencies in the diary reminded me that he had struck out at Saki once and spent a day in his room for some unknown reason, so I felt a little predisposed not to trust the outward appearance of this man. I trailed my eyes along his body, noting what appeared to be reading glasses tucked haphazardly into the pocket of his jeans and a faint trace of what appeared to be puncture marks on his inside elbow. It was indistinct and may even have been a mark made on the photo but I just couldn't be sure.

I took the photo out of the frame and turned it over to see if anything was written on the back, when I was again distracted by something sitting on the headboard of the bed.

A small and extremely worn plush tiger, that reminded me all too uncannily of the owl Pandora- no _Saki _had given me at the Tokyo cinema two weeks past. My mind ticked impatiently and whipped out the journal, skipping over a couple of pages in my excitement. I finally found what I was looking for;

_**November 24**_

_Dear Diary,_

_Papas better now! He sayd he waz sorry and took us out for an extra big lunch to make up for yestaday. It rayned but we were all so happey we bearly noticed. Nee-san is sad becawz she hasn't seen any owls in Kyoto since we got here. Papa took us to a toy stor and bowt me a little toy tiger and got Nee-san a little plush owl. Theyre both so cute! Papa said that we can tell all our frends back home that we saw tigers and owls and Kyoto, but its not really the same tho, is it?_

Here was the definite proof I was looking for. Not the proof I wanted… I wanted to hear that Pandora was somehow… I mean, the song he had been singing in the cinema.

"Someone's been a naughty boy."

I'd never jumped so high in my life. I actually went airbone and floated up so high I hit my head on the ceiling. Once I'd come back down, rubbing the egg shape lump forming on my forehead, I looked around to see where the voice had come from and saw Pandora perched on the windowsill, smiling cheekily back at me. He was wearing cut off jeans and a white polo necked t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked like he was going off to play basketball. And his body… his entire body on the Fourth Plane, was covered in the same curse markings that had once been etched into Hisoka's flesh. Every inch of visable skin. Even the skin around his eyes was marked. This was almost ten, no _twenty _times worse than I had ever seen Hisoka.

"You." I whispered, wincing gingerly as the lump on my head shrank slowly back down to normal.

"Breaking into someone elses room and looking through their things?" He shook his lined finger condescendingly at me. "Just like a Nancy Drew novel, isn't it? And this mansion is the perfect scene setting. Find what you were looking for, Mr. Tsuzuki?"

I blinked incredulously at the boy, seeing him in a whole new light now I knew something about him. His mousy brown hair flicked with streaks of blond, his eyes rancoriously intelligent. And suddenly the notes in my pocket seemed to make that much more sense to me.

"You," I repeated, stepping over towards the window seat. "You're Saki Shidou."

He nodded deep and slow.

"And…" My eyelashes fluttered dramatically. "You're Pandora too…"

He laughed gaily, clutching both hands around his ankle as he rocked back on the window seat. "Finally catching on, aren't you? As a pet it can be quite… difficult to say the least, to protect oneself. It requires some degree of…" He took a moment to consider. "_Imagination_."

"Who am I speaking with now?" I asked.

"What is left of Saki Shidou." The boy said, climbing elegantly onto his long, tremendously toned legs. "All that can be left once one becomes a Once Human. Sacrifices are not permitted to retain vestiges of their former existence; it conflicts with their purpose in this life. By my contract with my master, I was granted a new existence… but the price I was forced to pay was high. I can remember the life of Saki Shidou but it is as though I am recalling the memory of a story somebody told me. Or a movie I watched, perhaps. The only truly clear memories I have, are those I shared with the people that I love… the best memories, as it were." He concluded with a sweet smile.

I tilted my head sidelong, appraising him. "_Sacrifice?_" I asked. "I thought you were a pet?"

He seemed bemused and his eyes awned extraordinarily wide. "Yeeees." He drawled, with an amused smile. "In my case, they are one in the same. I am both a pet that is intended to provide my master with sexual gratification and an outlet for his frustrations be they violent or carnal in nature and I am also a Sacrifice, intended to honor the agreement I made years ago. To correct an egregious error and fulfill my part of the contract. I am the property of my master but I have a great responsibility that surpasses even his authority."

"And that is?"

His gentle features didn't change as he lowered his face to survey me from beneath shrouded lashes. "If I could tell you… I would hardly _be _a Pet now, would I?"

Frustrated, I gestured to the curse scripture painted against his body. "Can you at least tell me what _they _are? And why they appeared on Hisoka and Muraki too?"

Saki held out his arm as though examining the marks himself. "No." He stated simply. "All I can say is that it is part of a special duty that only I can perform. And it is the reason why I now have dissociative identity disorder. It is the best means of surviving it. Short of what my brother chose to do, at least." He gave a congenial sort of shrug, lowering his arm back down to his side. "Hisoka… that poor kid, wasn't as lucky. He had no means of protecting himself… and this Withering stole over him and vanished his life."

I examined his visage, with one eye squinted tightly together as though this may have helped aid my assessment of him. "I'm not sure it's just a coincidence that you look so much like Hisoka Kurosaki." He angled his head to the side, as though encouraging my gradually oncoming epiphany. "Are you… related to his family in some way? I know that you're not Muraki's full brother, that you had different Moms. Was your Mother related to the Kurosaki clan?"

Saki seemed delighted. He hopped up off of the window seat and wound around me with a sudden vigorous excitement.

"Yes, she was! My mother, who incidentally was a Shidou, was the sister of the Kurosaki heads first wife. Which would make Hisoka Kurosaki my cousin… if he were not already someone far closer to me."

"What do you mean?" I asked, with some trepidation.

Saki perched himself upon the bed. "I'm sorry… but I cannot say." And then his voice became lighter, more cheerful and somehow more childish. "Master would be terribly angry with us, Mr. Tsuusuukey!"

I felt my face twinge up into an involuntary smile. "Hello Pandora. How are you?"

He giggled, hands pressed underneath his knees and feet jigging nervously across the carpet. "Pandora is all right. A little troubled lately… things are happening so quickly! Many things are happening…"

"You don't have to tell me," I agreed, one hand mopping my already rumpled hair casually. I saw Pandora/Saki's face relax back into a more composed façade.

"We can't tell you anything about what's going on, Mr. Tsuzuki," The voice of Saki Shidou explained. "But if you're hungry for knowledge, might I suggest you read a book?" He waved a hand and I turned around to see a number of books in the bookshelf slide out just far enough for them to distinguish themselves from the rest of the tightly wedged tomes. "This may seem heavy going but I would certainly recommend them. Feel free to keep those notes you picked up too but I'm afraid our conversation has come to it's due completion. We really must be getting along." He said, sliding down off of the bed. I turned back to him, holding one hand up to halt his exit.

"Wait! Just one moment."

He stared at me impatiently.

"How… um, I mean… are there any other personalities you have? Besides you and Pandora that is?"

Saki seemed rather amused. His brow twitched slightly.

"Why should that be of any interest to you?"

"Could you please just tell me?"

Saki crossed his arms as he turned his body about to grant me his full attention. "The more serious persona you saw outside of the restaurant in Tokyo and here today are the central idenity who is I; what Remains of Saki Shidou. Then, there is Pandora; whom you saw in the elevator of your apartment and Tokyo Cinema, when we were unduly punished by the Apostle Balban. Or so he tells me. Of course, he is not I, so I have no true memory of those events. Pandora and I are able to communciate but there _is _a third identity, whom is able to communciate with Pandora but unable, or unwilling to communciate with me. I know nothing about this personality because it has forbidden Pandora to speak with me of it. For whatever the reason. I imagine it provides me with some manner of protection, by subduing memories or something to that effect and should I uncover its' identity, that protection would lapse and the horror of what I must endure daily would result in the collapse of my mind." He gave a brash laugh. "I mean, I created Pandora to protect me from the carnal attentions of my Master. I'm not sure what else this third identity could be doing… But why do you want to know, Mr. Tsuzuki?"

I swallowed deeply, feeling my mouth becoming dry and clammy. "Because… the night in Tokyo cinema… you- I mean, _Pandora_ was humming this tune… this tune that only one person knows. And he gave me a handkerchief… a handkerchief that belonged to her."

"I had that handkerchief as long as I can remember…" Saki mused, finger pressed thoughtfully into the curve of his chin. "But as for what Pandora was singing… I can hardly imagine…"

"Do you know Ruka Tsuzuki?!" I blurted out suddenly, desperate to figure out, to understand and to rationalize a raging hope trapped within my heart, unable to escape and blinding me to everything else.

But Saki didn't cotton onto this name like I had hoped he would. He chewed his bottom lip, eyes shifting to a certain angle to show that he wasn't on the same level as me.

"Ruka…?" He drawled softly. "No… I'm sorry, no. Is she… a relative of yours? Your mother or sister?"

"My sister." I said, feeling my shoulders slump down. I felt as though all the air had been let out of me. "She died when I was only seventeen… and Pandora was singing the song that she wrote. The song she used to dance to." I met his eyes again. "Can I talk to Pandora? Can I ask him how he knew the song?"

Saki seemed annoyed. "My identities are not something I can just switch over to and from like a CD track." He said, puffing up a bit like an aggravated bird. He seemed ready to say something else but then his eyes widened suddenly and his fingers raised up to clutch his aggreived features.

"Ah… _Ahhh!" _The scream ripped out of him, roar and primal and he keeled over at the waist, allowing me to witness the sight of what appeared to be burnmarks appearing on the back of his neck. New curse scripture was flashing on and off like a torch beneath his skin. "Ukyou!" His eyes bulged white from beneath his mussed bangs as he straightened up halfway. "No… not Ukyou, _please!_" His eyes rolled back towards the ceiling until only the whites showed, red veins branching up towards the pupil as though the curse scripture was trying to encompass every remaining patch of his body. "_He's here…"_

"Pandora has to get out of here!" The ice blue eyes widened with palpable terror. He hopped off of the bed as deep resonating thuds tolled from the hallway. The Blank-Faced Specters glanced over their shoulders to take into account whatever was approaching them. "Mr. Tsuzuki, you have to run! He's coming!"

"Wait… _what? _Who's coming? What's going on with Ukyou? … Hey, wait a minute!" I exclaimed, reaching out to try and stop him as the marked boy sprinted around me and liberally thrust himself face first out the window, like a professional swimmer vaulting off of the diving board.

"You have to go! Go now!"

I ran over and leant out through the open frame but he had already disappeared. A white feather floated back up past my face and disappeared into the overcast sky above. "Dammit!" I cursed, hitting the wall with the flat of my hand. Remembering the books he had pointed out to me I made my way over to the bookshelf, when a harsh gutteral drawl from behind the wall of Blank-Faced Specters blocking the doorway distracted me thoroughly.

"_Tsuzuu-uuki…"_

I spun around to face the threat, resulting in slamming my back against the wall in the process. The Blank-Faced Specters didn't bother to remove themselves from the doorway and I only had a brief moment to wonder whether or not they were in fact trying to protect from whatever was coming, when a long thick blade swung sideways between them and opened up the necks of the pair on the left. Only a thin strip of flesh kept their heads attached to their necks, before gravity got the better of them and with a fresh spurt of blood, the strip tore and their heads collapsed and landed on the floor. The remaining two Specters tried to move into the path of whatever was coming, when the blade turned on them and viciously started to hack their chests, legs, arms and stomachs, as though cutting through a shrubbery that blocked a path. Wounds gushing, voices shrieking, the specters collapsed against the doorway and back out into the hall, allowing their attacker to gain entrance into the room.

"_Tsuzuu-uukiii."_

He was a tall man; around the same height as Muraki but wider across the chest and decidedly thicker in the arms and legs. He looked like a weight lifter that had gone someswhat to seed, which may not have been too far off because he was an older man; around later fifties to early sixties I wagered. His face was shielded by a black wide brimmed hat and a long dark blue jacket slumped down towards the floor. When he spoke, his voice rumbled out in a deep baritone. Clutched in his left hand and dripping with the coagulated blood of Muraki's illusions, was a brutally large and sharp meat cleaver.

"There you are…" He growled, slouching into the room towards me, upper body bent low in a typical hunting posture. I could see his blue eyes glaring at me and they rolled about with the telltale signs of the insane. "I've been waiting for you…"

This was a different kind of fear compared to facing a demonic adversary. There had only been so many humans who had tried to kill me but there had been particular circumstances behind these cases. Never before had I come face to face with someone who looked like a one-hundred percent slasher villain. Here was that moment. This filled me with the same sort of fear that a bad guy in a scary movie did. It was like being face to face with the killer from _Psycho. _The stalker from _Dead Calm. _And even though I knew I wasn't helpless, I felt it anway. My knees went weak. My eyes kept flitting back to the dripping blade; the blade that couldn't kill me but could easily dismember me, possibly bleed me out before anyone could find me.

I pulled myself together and dug my hand into my pocket, pulling out a fuda imbued with aggessive engravings. I held it up between my first and middle fingers.

"And you are?" I asked, sounding decidedly cooler than I actually felt.

The Cleaver-Maniac smirked as he edged closer. I had nowhere to go, other than straight out through the window, so without trying to seem too obvious about it, I started to slide sideways towards it.

"_Shukusatsu_…" He sounded kind of hypnotized, the way he said it and his eyes blurred out of focus. I stole this oppurtunity to make a dash towards the window but the Maniac wasn't as out of it as I had hoped. The cleaver thunked into the window frame an inch from my nose, causing me to squeal like a little girl. The dark man rushed forward and ripped the cleaver free, pressing the blade against my throat. "My little Tsuzuki… I've been waiting so long for this…"

"Get away from me!" I yelled, raising the fuda and uttering the Pressure release spell, which knocked my assailant back several feet. I ducked away and moved towards the door but he got in front of me with a mocking grin and took a slice at my chest. I stumbled sideways and hit the bed, bracing my arms against it to keep myself standing.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, poised between fear and irritation. "What do you want from me?"

His smile twitched unpleasantly. "Your _Shukusatsu_…Don't get my crack at you until we've milked that out a' ya."

"What _Shukusatsu?!"_ I hissed, angry and frustrated. "I don't even know what that is!"

"_Shukusatsu…" _He repeated, almost dreamily. "The mark of your sins and sorrows… the mark of all that turns its back… on God."

The words of Saagatanasu! This couldn't be a coincidence! I felt my bladder weaken considerably, my body quake at those memories of losing complete control as my assailant raised the blade of the cleaver to his mouth and slid his tongue along the sharp edge. My mind immediately flashed back to the Other Place, where the image of my younger self had peformed a similar act of splitting his own tongue with the clipping shears. _Tell tale tit, your tongue shall be split. _The poem children taunted one another with; the code of silence and the threat of what would be exacted upon you, should you speak of the nefarious acts of a particular person to another.

Blood gushed down the chin of the Cleaver-Man and he started to laugh. A high, terrifying, deranged laugh that was more a giggle than the deep baritone he had been until now exhibiting. My whole body trembled without precetence and though I wasn't a cowardly man, I was terrified by this person, for a reason I could not explain at the time. All I knew was that I had to get away from him. For more reasons than one. A harsh vibration had just stolen across the skin of my chest. I snatched the pager out of my jacket pocket and held it up to see the words, **"Tatsumi: SOS" **flash across the tiny pale gray screen. Good grief, everything seemed to be happening all at once!

I didn't waste a second. Shoving the photograph and the pager back into my pocket, along with the tiger doll (don't ask me why, it was a spur of the moment thing really), I grabbed for the first object I thought could possibly solve my present conundrum. I raised the dusty, wooden desk chair and holding it high like a lion tamer, ploughed into the Cleaver-Man with all my preternatural strength, forcing him backwards into the wall. He hit the plaster with a loud 'oof', his head making contact with a sickening and ultimately satisfying crack. I pulled the chair back and lifting it above my head, smacking it violently down over his face as hard as I could. The old wood virtually exploded on impact and the Cleaver Man slumped, stunned, which was less than I had hoped for but afforded me the oppurtunity I needed to sprint towards the door. I leapt over the remains of the poor Blank Faced Specters (which were fading away even as I looked) and rounded the corner into the hallway like a bat out of hell. I heard the tell-tale thunk of the cleaver smashing into the opposing wall, as the coated man hurled it at my retreating butt. I doubt I had ever run so fast in my life or death. Fuck I was flying.

"_Tsuuzuu-uukii." _

I shot down the stairs like a lubricated bullet, snagging the curled lip of the banister in order to spin myself around to face the rear doorway as I landed. The pager continued to vibrate persuasively in my pocket, Tatsumi's desperate plea for assistance urgent and unanswered. I slammed through the doorway and bolted headfirst into the hallway beyond, letting my highly trained body do the thinking for me. Should anything get in my way, I could only rely on my substantial reflexes to step in and take charge; I had far too great a momentum to halt myself now. Distracted though I was, something caught my attention as I ran. The purple haze was falling away, gradually blending into a rich warm glow that creased through the awning windows. Daylight and pastel colors were seeping back to the forefront of my perception. I knew what was happening. Aki's means of entering us into the Third Layer of Reality was starting to crumble. Either to everyone or only myself. Saki hadn't been lying; _he_ was here, whomever he was. Something powerful was affecting the spiritual continuim, rending magical measures apart at the seams. Unscrewing the bolts, shaking the foundations of _mana _apart until the roots shucked free of the earth.

'_By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes', _The words uttered by the witches of Macbeth held a special significance in that moment. Though it was towards the impending horror that I ran, rather than awaiting its' despised arrival upon the foot of my door. But who is to deign that which is most wicked? Was I not as ghastly as the creature upon whom I gained with each hurried step? That is perhaps irony, is it not? The wicked one rushes to face the wicked one. How delightfully altruistic! I'm sure Muraki would have found this most amusing, had he been witness to the horrors slowly unfurling between the walls of his own home.

The double doors leading out towards the gardens loomed beastly and bullish before me and just before I barged on through, a picture framed in the wood of the left hand door caught my eye. It was a painting; depicting a red donned Jesus Christ reaching out his hand to lay upon the head of a demure light haired boy, whose eyes were rendered respectfully downward, hands pressed together in reverence. The son of god was surrouned by three older bearded men, the foremost figure shrouded in robes of magnificent gold. Framing the shoulders of the blessed child was his family, or so they appeared to be. There was a second, angelic looking fair haired boy, who gazed out towareds the observer with eyes that truly appeared to see, despite being rendered in paint. An equally cherubic girl in red, clutched the shoulders of the boy who had been touched by the hand of Christ. The exceptionally pale mother, robed in blue, looked on with palpable respite, nursing a rather portly baby in her arms, whilst her bearded husband indicated with one finger towards the beat of his heart beneath his breast; the fingers of his second hand resting lightly against the bared shoulder of the watchful girl, whose eyes seemed to sear more urgently into mine as I took this final factor into consideration.

There was writing carved into wood beneath the picture frame and I had to lean close in order to make it out.

_"Suffer the little children to come unto me."__**Mark 10:14**_

And then under that, in letters as dark as rich black ink but dripping as though it were written in blood, the increasingly chilling words; _"Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire; and if any one's name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the_ _lake of fire_."

I wasn't sure what this meant and the continuing buzz from my pocket reminded me that I didn't have the luxury of musing on it for any great length of time. Tatsumi was just beyond; possibly in grave danger and disturbing though this situation was, I hadn't the time to waste on it. Rejecting the increased complication, I yanked open the right hand door and barreled through, only noticing the translucent cords of the giant spiderweb when it was too late to do anything about it. Fortunately they didn't snag a hold of me, like I would have expected a giant cobweb to do and I passed straight through them without the slightest bit of hassle. I let premature relief wash over me, a heightened self-assured brashness steal authority of my senses and I was just expelling a grateful sigh, when my head popped free of my neck and fell into my extended hands.

Yes. You heard right. And stop laughing Watari, it's not the least bit funny! How would you like something like _that _to happen to you?

Needless to say, I was more than just a little alarmed by this development. I was able to catch my head just in the nick of time but now that I was actually staring back up at my newly decapitated body, I hadn't the faintest idea how to proceed. And I didn't have a very firm hold of my head either. For a few (no doubt hileriously comic inducing, to everyone but yours truly) moments, I juggled my head back and forth up and down, shrieking in mortified shock and unable to calm down long enough to get a firm hold on myself. Quite literally. Was this another one of Muraki's cheap-ass 'protective-spells'? Whatever it was, it frightened the undead bjeebus out of me, to say the least.

"Oh my god! Oh my god, Jesus! Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" I chanted as I juggled my head haphazardly about the garden entance, nearly upending myself quite literally face first into a rose thicket on my immediate left. My body wasn't having an easy time navigating itself without my head attached to it either. More than once my hands clasped the base of my neck, which for all intensive purposes should have been a seared bloody stump, as are most necks reduced to when they have been separated from the owner. But my skin almost seemed to have melted together like wax and the base of the neck was smooth. I didn't know how I could feel this, when the neurons of my brain could not possibly reach the nerves of my fingers but somehow, my body still continued to operate under my command. What little glances I could get, as my head flipped up down and around, was that the top of my neck was also cleanly rounded off.

You would think that after the Room of Corollary I would be prepared for something like this but no. I can honestly say by far, that it was the strangest most alarming thing to have ever occurred to me. I mean, just imagine! Your head _falling off! _How do you handle something like that? (Apart from juggling it, of course.) The simple answer is, you don't. I was freaking out. I was freaking out _big time._

I heard a sharp bang echo from behind me and managed to spin my body around and angle my head up high enough to see what was going on. Wakaba came stumbling down the hallway, her luxuriously curly brown hair tangled and falling crooked from the trademark ribbons she wrapped around sections of it and clothing singed. Her face looked sooty, as though she had taken a sudden profound interest in the work of a chimney sweep and was coming off the worst for wear for it.

"Something… came out of the… adjourning toilet." She panted as she came towards me, not yet noticing that I was a few good inches shorter than I had been the last time she'd seen me. "These white stalk type things… like they had little mouths… belched fire at me! Only just managed to get away when Seiichirou… is he alright?!" Her face appeared stricken and she'd still failed to notice my delicate predicament.

"Wakaba, stop!" I screamed, as she came dangerously close to stepping through the white nexus of threads spread across the exit. "Don't come any closer! I ran through that web type thing there and my head-! Look!" I shook my head pointedly in her direction, immediately wishing I had found other means to express my disbelief. The violent jerking sensation gave me a headache, ironically enough. "My head fell off!"

Wakaba's eyes stared large and white, unblinking through the smudges of black smeared across her pretty features. She set her hands on her hips, considering my situation from all angles it would seem.

"So you have," She stated serenely, as though my complete and utter decapitation were something of a mildly interesting nature, rather than something supremely revolting. "How on earth did you manage to do that, Tsuzuki?"

I bit back a snarky rebuttal, knowing full well that it was hardly Wakaba's fault that I was in this situation. If I had only exercised more caution when I'd stepped through the door, then none of this would have happened. There was no point in taking my carelessness out on Wakaba. Though I really rather wanted to.

"Just like I said! I ran through that web and my head… it just fell off!" I bit at the tip of my finger as it slid jarringly into my upper lip, forcing it over my upper row of teeth momentarily. I felt the sharp pain go through me, bizarre though it may seem and reflexively jerked the finger back into place. "Wakaba! What am I going to do?! I can't stay like this!"

She had been thinking whilst I'd been moaning and seemed to have wrapped her finger about my current conundrum, because her features lit up just as soon as I'd finished speaking.

"Of course! I learnt about this back in training! It was in my specific field, you know."

"Magical decapitation falls under Restrainment Mana?" I wondered, not being altogether familiar with Wakaba's particular area myself. I'd seen her use her powers to nulify the transformation of Terazuma into his monstrous black Shikigami self and return him to his human form but I had little idea of what else exactly she was capable of.

Wakaba laughed and waved her hand to and fro. "No, no, no. It's a Serration Blight. A magical means of nullifying the senses and creating a very life-like illusion through the spiritual instigation of _mana _hypnotism. There is an effective counter-spell. Just give me a moment…"

I watched as she fished a _fuda _similar to the kind that I employed in my spellcasting, out of her pocket and twirled her finger across the surface. Writing appeared upon the yellowed parchment, the same cranberry color as her nail polish but it was in a language I couldn't understand, let alone read. When she was done, she stepped forward and slapped the _fuda _edge directly through the mana nexus and into my forehead.

"_Est autem fides credere quod nondum vides; cuius fidei merces est videre quod credis_." **(1)** She recited quickly and before I was even able to offer a perfunctory 'ow', a bright light seared around the shape of the _fuda _and pulsed so harshly, I was forced to shield my eyes against it. When I opened them again, my head was mercifully back atop my neck and I spent a few moments running my fingers across my taut skin, savoring the comforting elasticity of my flesh.

"Phew… that was a close one! Sankyuu, Wakaba." I beamed, as the younger Guardian waved away the now useless threads of the spell and stepped into my grateful embrace.

"Hey, no biggie."

She gave my back a gentle pat and then pulled herself free as the reason for our presence in the atrium returned to the forefront of our senses. Her mismatched eyes were wide and her bottom lip trembled slightly.

"Seiichirou!" She reminded me, darting beneath my arms and racing out through the glass dome towards the framing arch of the kissing gate. "Hurry Tsuzuki! He's in trouble! I know it – Oh Seiichirou! Hang in there!"

"Wakaba! Don't just go barreling in there! There could be more traps! _Wakaba!_" But she couldn't or wouldn't hear me. Her concern for Tatsumi's immediate well-being was paramount and she would not be deterred from it. And I'll admit that I was entirely puzzled by it, equally by the personal use of Tatsumi's given name. Wakaba had never expressed much of a personal interest in the Hades Treasurer and as far as I knew, the pair weren't close in any way. They barely exchanged a passing nod in the hallways at work. So why this sudden rampant concern?

Pushing these thoughts backward, I drove after Wakaba with all the energy my body possessed, pushing myself past my usual limitations in order to vault the kissing gate and clear the surrounding hedgerows with barely a passing thought. If Tatsumi wasn't able to handle whatever manner of aberration had confronted him, then I surely doubted Wakaba's was capable to cope with it. Should anything happen to her… she was pure and sweet… and innocent. A kind and genuine person. I knew full well that it would not be only Hajime that I would answer to, should I have allowed any ill will to afford her. Speaking of Hajime, where was he? Where were the others? Why hadn't they responded to Tatsumi's SOS? I prayed that a similar, terrible act had not delayed them but persuaded myself that a message would have been sent via the pager if this were the case. I could only hope I was right and push on. The one person I knew for sure was in danger was somewhere up ahead and even though Tatsumi and I had had our differences, we had always been there for one another. Well… it was usually him doing the rescuing, if I'm to be perfectly frank. So all the better to return the favor!

I vaulted rose bush after rose bush; they dominated the grounds and burst into flagrant bloom as I passed overhead. Were they reacting to me or simply to the magic surmounting the surrounding area? I couldn't begin to explain the logic and it soon slipped from my mind, deemed unnecessary when I finally had Wakaba in my sights. I settled onto neatly maintained lawn in a wide-open space, most likely reserved for some manner of recreational pursuits. Here I could sense the final foundations of the Other Place slipping away, our spiritual means of protection gliding free like shadows from the suns waking eye. Wakaba was standing in the very center of the cleared ground and I could hear her quietly sobbing to herself as her mind finally accepted the truth of what dominated the scene. Staring up at the dubious monstrosity, I felt my own sanity threatening to turn over, just as it had threatened to do within the Room of Corollary.

The decomposed remains of a woman stood before a curved row of blood red rose bushes, her face veiled from inspection by a white funeral shroud that had been tied about her head with elastic. like a child's play mask. The remains of a slate gray dress barely clung to her waif like figure, the material almost the exact same shade as her sunken, ghastly skin. By some ungodly act of taboo, the rose bush upon which the body appeared to have been impaled had been spiritually integrated into her form. She and the roses were one… the thorny stems of the bush had penetrated directly through the scoop of her lower back and had erupted out through her abdominal cavity and… as best I can explain it, _wrapped _about her intestines, pushing them up and out into the air like great tentacles composed of the green of life and the red congealed rust of death. These writhing, fecal encrusted, thorn wreathed tentacles rose out of the woman's body to their rumored full-length capacity. You know that old fable where it's said you can wrap the large intestine three times around a tennis court? I don't pretend to know if that is true or not but in this extraordinary example, it certainly appeared to be so. The bowel vines stretched fifteen feet up into the air, holding captive at the highest point a struggling, writhing Tatsumi, whose helpless body was being brutally seared from all directions. One of their vines was wrapped around his mouth and eyes, so that his cries were muffled. Blood was dripping steadily down onto the green-carpeted floor of the recreational area.

A name came into my mind for this abomination, though I'm not sure if it is a name of my own creation or that I had somehow determined its' true calling. But the name nonetheless was this; Bowel-Thorn. Dead flesh wreathed to the least sentient life on the planet, which certainly now appeared to possess a mind of its' own. But this was still not the worst sight our eyes were forced to contend with, if you can believe that.

Down at our level, beneath the squirming, struggling specter of Tatsumi, the figure in the blue jacket and wide brimmed black hat, (who had somehow managed to overtake me) was stooped towards the dead girls body, his fingers hidden beneath the torn shroud of the girls dress but clearly working with demented excitement at the space between her legs. Wakaba's hands were pressed over her face and I barely got there in time before her legs buckled beneath her.

"S-Stop it!" She screamed it in a raw primal fury I had never witnessed from this serene natured girl. Her whole body quaked as I tried to get my hand over her eyes, trying in vain to prevent her from being witness to what was already far too late to prevent. "Leave her alone! Leave her the _Hell alone_, YOU BASTARD!!"

The man turned to stare at her and I could see that deranged smile even in the dark shadow the hat cast across his face. He was drooling and giggling, apparently delighted in this egregious act he was committing. This level of excitement appeared to rather escalate when he caught sight of Wakaba and then increased twofold when his crazed golden eyes took me into account.

"You're still only a child…" He hissed lustfully, stepping away from the dead girls body. His fingers slid out of her, bringing a thin layer of bloodied, deteriorated flesh with them. My stomach lurched as I realized that this was the poor dead girls hymen, which meant she had been a virgin. His remaining hand clasped firmly about the handle of a hatchet style meat-cleaver. "And you… the Reserved. The divinely beautiful untouched. Two sweet virgins… ah, how I ache… Yet fate is cruel to me. How long has it been… there has been none as sweet as those blonds… those beautiful blonds…"

There was a disturbance in the air and something appeared as though stepping up and out from a ripple in a pond. A man… a man almost twice the height of Muraki and nearly twice as wide dropped down to stand beside the demented creature in the hat. The new arrival had hair the same color as Muraki; though it and a greater portion of his upper torso appeared to have been permanently stained by blood. Even one of his eyes was permanently blotted by a line of red gore he seemed unable to blink away.

"Popo Bawa? Okiko Haruhi?" It addressed both names to the man in the hat who nodded twice separately to acknowledge each. "It is done now. We have drained sufficient energy from the girl. By his Majesty's authority you may return and enact the next countermeasure."

The man swept the hat from his head, revealing a crown of wavy blond hair and a not unattractive face.

"_Another root to be plucked from the earth._" The voice that sprang from inside of the blue cloaked man but came not from him reminded me all too much of the guttural baritone of Saagatanusu. _"So shall it be done. In return for what he promised us, we will secure the boy more to the chains that erstwhile bind him._"

"Certainly learnt his lesson in trying to evade his contract, eh?" Agreed the villain in the hat, chuckling his dark laugh from the veil of darkness shrouding his face. "You just make sure his Majesty remembers what he promised us in return, Mara!"

"Bring it full circle and you will receive that which you have been promised." The blood stained arrival murmured sourly, though his tone did nothing to deter the pleasure leaping in the face of the deranged specter. I got the impression that the silver haired man found his accomplice as distasteful as we did. "You had best hurry. He is approaching fast. I'm sure he will not appreciate what manner of foulness you have exacted against his former mate."

And it hit me, so suddenly, so profoundly that I actually felt tears spring to my eyes.

Okiko Haruhi… the name the blood-splattered arrival had addressed this man by… I had seen it once before. In that newspaper article in the Other Place. This man… this evil man who had already demonstrated his desire to possess virgins… was Watari's godfather! His childhood tormentor… the man who had kidnapped both him and his sister and held them captive in the basement of his house whilst he performed god knows what atrocities against them!

He was here! Right in front of me! And a burgeoning rage that I had not felt in so long reared inside of me like a snake about to strike, contorting my features into a primal howl of fury.

"YOU!!" I screamed, thrusting one finger out towards him with such drama it could only have been natural rage that had led me to such a ridiculous dictation. "You evil, disgusting, _loathsome_ excuse for a pustule! I know what you did! You hurt- you hurt someone I care about you sick child raping _cunt_!" I had never used such language before but then again, I had never been face to face with someone I truly detested with such violence as I did Okiko Haruhi. I hated that man! I blindingly, agonizingly hated him with a pure loathing verity.

"_We don't have time for this." _Issued the tart, unfamiliar voice that seemed to erupt from the vicinity of Okiko Haruhi's chest. He waved its' protests away with an emperor like swish of his hand and beamed down at me as though he were a patient parent tolerating the adorable whimsies of a child.

"You're wrong, boy." Said the voice of Haruhi to me and he smiled, even as he started to dissolve away into the familiar sunken sphere of teleportation. "I have hurt three…"

I let Wakaba down gently and dashed towards him, for all intensive purposes fully intending to tear him apart with my bare hands, such was my utter loathing of him. But the moment was lost to the speculative mind. I had gone no more than two steps when Haruhi disapparated and the blood splattered figure jumped down to bar my already pointless path.

"Well, well, well. Asato Tsuzuki… and Kanuuki Wakaba; if I'm not mistaken." He gave a deep, almost respectful nod in Wakaba's direction before turning his oddly deteriorated eyes back towards me. "I heard Mr. Tsuzuki that you caused Balban a great deal of grief only a fortnight past. You Guardians of Death certainly don't hold back do you? Imagine… summoning up the Guardian Suzaku to deal with one little girl?"

"Little… girl…?" I enquired, utterly perplexed. "What do you mean, 'girl'? Are you actually trying to suggest that… great whopping dust cloud was a _child?_"

"Of course." Said the arrival, who appeared thoroughly surprised that this factor had not been obvious to me. He emitted a slight chuckle. "You won't have to worry about holding back with me. Allow me to introduce myself; I am the third apostle; _Devaputra-Mara-Maya_. Better renowned these days as Mara The Bloodbath." He held out a strand of blood stained hair. "Once a great angel of Heaven, I found myself thrown down by Saint Michael when drenched in the blood of demons during the End of Days. Blood that never fades." I saw him bite his lip with obvious contempt. "I was too contaminated for Heaven… but the Prince of the Infernal Regions, his majesty Eurynomous, welcomed me into Hell with open arms. Now, I serve those I once condemned."

"I don't care to listen to your introductions, beast. Are you responsible for this?!" I stepped forward, anger dominating my fear. "Did you create this… _thing _out of the body of this poor girl?! Put my friend down _now _or I will suffer you! Do you hear me, angel?!"

"SEIICHIROU!!" Wakaba called desperately, half sobbing as she climbed back to her feet, scuttling over to stand at my side. Her head was craned back, eyes never once leaving the continually squirming form of our fellow employee. "SEIICHIROU HOLD ON!!"

The angel scratched the back of his head, looking altogether too much like an embarrassed high school boy."… Well this is awkward. I can see I'm not going to be able to answer this without incuring some damage…"

" … You _did _do this…" I hissed, knowing the answer full well before he even confirmed it.

"I have no choice." The demonic angel snapped, a pair of equally blood stained wings snapping out from his shoulder blades and slashing up through the air as sharply as scissor blades. "You and yours are interferring. Nosy bunch of busy bodies, that's what you are. You'd best leave well enough alone, Asato Tsuzuki and let happen what means to happen. The boy must be punished for breaking the contract and he still must fulfill his duty. That was the bargain. The mark must return full circle."

"Mark?" I asked softly, my mind immediately darting back to the memory of Saki in the bedroom upstairs, writhing in pain and of Hisoka and Muraki's bodies respectively; each wearing the similar red brandings I had come to familiarize with both death and homocidal rage.

"The _Shukusatsu._" Mara stated impatiently, as though I were particularly dull witted."The souls branding that marks the suffering of the eternal spirit. The mark that quells the eternal quagmire; the lake of fire. By his Majesty's decree all souls that possess the mark of the chain must be culled when the suitable energy has been reached. It wouldn't be necessary, should the boy have fulfilled his duty forthwit." He paced slowly, fingers caressing the stray intestinal vines of the Bowel-Thorn as they dithered about him like adoring snakes to the pipe of a charmer. "You must understand… the master requires a great deal of _mana_, energy that can only be acquired by the connection established between those that are connected; joined by bonds of love, by blood, by friendship… even by bonds of hatred. If the appropriate sacrifice is not made, then a Punishment is dealt and all souls of earth shall wander aimlessly in the darkness. And should that happen, even he would be unable to bind it again."

It was all so banal and predictable. Couldn't these Otherworldly sons of bitches speak in anything other than verse?! "_He_? Who do you mean?! Start making sense!" My fragile temper, already balanced tentatively on teeterhooks flared up, releaved by the oppurtunity to direct my frustrations towards someone. And once more the angel responded as though I were possibly mentally ill, which only irritated me further.

"Michael of course. Saint Michael, the knighted right hand of God. The only being capable of versing the Spiritual Beings of the Higher Planes and truimphing over them." His voice dropped further and delved into a dark serration of internal bitterness. "It was he who was responsible for decimating the master in the first instance. He who wrought the 31 seals to bind him in place."

"Please, explain this to me!" I begged, taking a step closer against all common sense. I heard Wakaba chirp fearfully at my back. "Only last night, I spoke with the one who was responsible for all this. It's Mitkiel, right? Your master!"

The angels cocked his head to one side, lips pursed tight in a sort of quiet frustration. "Yes. … Sort of…"

"_Sort of?!"_I shrieked."Well then, you explain it to me! Explain why all this is happening! I don't understand anything and I need to know our part in this."

I was suddenly thrust back by _mana _of pure kinetic force. It was pressure and there was no pain but I was deeply affronted by the reaction I had received. Wakaba stumbled and landed jarringly on her rump but wasn't greiviously injured as far as I could tell. She just looked extremely put out. When my vision had cleared, I could see the angel, Mara, staring down upon me with outright contempt.

"You _may _have inherited the title of the Leader of the Spirit Wanderers from your hapless confrontation with that backwater underling Saagatanusu and I can't pretend to know what his Lord Ashitorote has planned for you in that regard but I'll be damned a second time should I permit you to take such liberties of me!" Spit flew from his stained lips and hissed upon contact with the ground. "The bloody _cheek _of you, human! A drop of demon's blood and a meager sub-title inherited through the devil's luck and you feel you possess the audacity to address me with such impertinence?! You don't _need _to know anything, Flesh Walker." Flesh-Walker; a derogative title for Guardians of Death, usually enforced by angels. It made reference to a sort of spirit, masquarading in long dead skin it had no right to inhabit. "I don't _have _to tell you a darned thing!" Even as a damned angel, he couldn't bring himself to swear it would seem. "I am Devuputra-Maya-Mara! The Fourth Apostle: The Bloodbath! I heed no word from the mouths of those which Hades itself regurgitates! The bile of Tartarus!"

He was getting really worked up and I could see I was hardly going to get a word in edge-wise, so I figured it best to cut to the quick.

"Well if that's how you feel," I said insipidly, my hand closing around the fuda charm in my left hand pocket. "Why beat around the bush any further?"

A small crafty smile flitted across Mara's blemished features, his one good eye darting covertly to the side where the girls' body resided atop the topiary.

"Couldn't have put it any further myself, boy." He gave a hardly discernable flick of his finger and I barely had a seconds glance of the funeral caul lifting up off of the girls face, exposing ammassed scar tissue which seemed to suddenly obliterate into a screaming white light, as though her face had been concealing the loaded barrel of a rocket launcher.

_Fffsssshhh-SCHOOOOOM!_

A huge displacement of energy, more movement than sound, shook the entire area as a flare of brilliantly burning white light jetted past my cheek, striking so close that it scraped the upper half of my ear away. Hot blood cascaded down the side of my face, shockingly wet but I only had a mere second to consider it before I turned my attention to more pressing matters. Whatever had blasted clear from what had once been the girls face (Little more than bone schrapnel now) had blown a deep hole in the ground behind us. And I was just thinking that I'd been incredibly lucky that my ear was the only damage I had encurred from such a stupendous force of power, when the hole lit up like the sun and literally exploded like a deeply entrenched landmine. God dammit, why hadn't I thought of moving away from the possible blast radius? Bloody half-witted hairlip I could be sometimes! All I know is that one second I was standing there, nursing the flapping remnants of my ear when a great pressure dramatically kicked up and out beneath and behind me, lifting me up by my butt and throwing me through the air like a fucking straw dolly that a little girl had gotten tired of. I was airborne, catching furtive glimpses of sky, the sun at the midway point of its journey and then the ground rushing up to meet my face, because naturally this was the part of me that landed first. The heaviest part, I suppose you could say.

I remember wondering, as I lay there for a moment, waiting for my bones to knit back together and my nose to distend (it had been liberally mashed into alignment with my cheeks and the delicate marrow was splashed across my face from the heat as well as the impact) just what had been concealed beneath the girls funeral shroud. A mother-fucking _rocket launcher? _Seemed more like a grenade gun, considering that the bastard hadn't exploded until after making contact with the ground. My head was ringing and time and outside noise was blotted out, as angry light dashed the corners of my senses and everything ground to a halt. I could have been there five seconds or five days, my senses were that out of context.

By the time I came around, I could plainly hear the undead girls keening wail and blinked through weeping eyes (my cornea's had been severely burnt on account of the blast) to see that the angel had set her loose from the roses. He appeared to be negotiating a certain degree of her movement with a marrionette on strings, that he had withdrawn from the white tunic he was wearing. As he manipulated the strings of the puppet, the girl followed suit. I was no expert in such matters but I thought this Bloodbath was some sort of Necromancer Puppeteer and I wagered that it was he responsible for the Hopping Corpse Terazuma had been confronted with. I struggled to get up, reaching over to grab a hold of Wakaba's arm, who fortunately had been standing further forward when the energy had ignited and as such had escaped the full brunt of the attack, suffering a few second degree burns and a couple of scrapes. My head spun and I was severely disoriented, possibly concussed but I had to keep her from getting closer, keep her from a reckless reaction that may or may not cost her her life –

-and the dead girl was up out of the rose bush and moving, almost _flailing _forward, fingers and arms tearing at her gray features in a futile attempt to rid herself of the unnatural intrusion. She was _screaming _actually _screaming, _though the sound wasn't emerging from her mouth but rather from somewhere deep inside of her chest. Unable to save herself and already beyond help, she thrashed blindly through the surrounding topiaries, carrying Tatsumi higher and higher into the air, constricting him until blood rained down on our heads in a saturating cloud.

I pulled Wakaba up behind me and we both raced after the suffering Bowel-Thorn as it burst through the steel and mesh arch of a decorative gate leading into the surrounding area. Before I could get out of the way, one of the detached bars came away, still smouldering, and smacked into my left side. I heard and felt a rib give way and stumbled over my own feet, trying desperately to right myself and keep the pain in check. Taking advantage of my momentary lapse, Wakaba surged past me and vaulted the distance between herself and the Bowel-Thorn, stealing a slip of paper out of her trouser pocket in mid-flight.

"Wakaba, NO!" I screamed, my voice lost in the wails of the undead woman. The pain in my side was intense; it flickered like fire, making it incredibly difficult to breathe but I forced myself to Jump, trying with insane premise to bridge the gap between Wakaba and the Bowel-Thorn before it all went pear-shaped.

Wakaba shot the _fuda _through the air as though throwing a knife. "_Junction!" _She screamed, initiating a spell I was not familiar with but was apparently powerful, because she appeared thoroughly nonplussed when the fuda rebounded uselessly off of the Bowel-Thorn's _aura._

"What?" She whispered as I zoomed up to her side, hissing between my teeth and clutching my side as though attempting to force aside a pervasive stich. "That spell should have forced the physical and spiritual properites apart! It would have given that girl a chance to calm herself… what kind of magic is this? Tsuzuki…" Her mismatched eyes glanced betrayingly to Tatsumi, still writhing high in the air above us. "What are we going to do…? Seiichirou…"

Footsteps came thundering towards us and Aki soon joined us, his eyes widening as he took the monstrous abberation into account.

"What the fuck is that…?" He murmured, appearing slightly slow on account of his bottom lip hanging wide open. There was a loud thud as Hisoka landed beside us, looking accountably less concerned by the creature than Aki. Until he noticed Tatsumi struggling in mid-air fifteen feet about us.

"Mr. Tatsumi!"

"I know, I _know_…" I groaned, squeezing my bottom lip between my teeth as the frayed bone of my rib slowly ground back into place, forming into a hair-line fracture. "Aki… what do you reckon? This is your field after all?"

Aki seemed predictably unenthusiastic about this. "Well that may be true but I sure as heck never came across nothing like _this _before. I think our best bet is to… take out the tentacles and try and get Tatsumi out of there. Then we can think about ways to… resolve the poor girls soul."

"Right." I said, twisting my line of sight across my shoulder in order to lock my eyes on Wakaba's tremulous expression. "First thing's first; think you can throw up a suitable Containment sector, Wakaba? We've got to keep this here thing contained at all costs!"

Wakaba's expression was one of deep concern. "But… that will keep the others locked out also, Tsuzuki… Terazuma… where are you guys?!" She whipped the pager out of her pocket and pressed the button down urgently and then again, unnecessarily as once was sufficient. "Hurry up! _Please!_"

"Miss Wakaba! Please, there is really no time!" Aki implored, stretching his hands out in front of himself, the tips of his index fingers and two thumbs pressed together in order to form a vague triangular shape. "I'll have to act now or else that damn thing will go blundering out into the street. _Habitum is tergum, habitum is angustus. _**Postulo, contineo!**" (2)

A blaring white pentagram contained within a circular field boomed out from the arch of his fingers and expanded until it could frame our entire bodies. A second circular field with a mirror image pentagram spun forwards and twisted about to slot against the first image with a deep echo as though a great cathedral door were slamming shut.

"**Postulo, contineo!" **Aki repeated and flung his arm upwards, throwing the double branded pentagram into the air above our heads, where it expanded furthermore and hovered in place, sending a containment field down around the garden area. Just before the red light touched the ground, three figures all symetaneously leapt through the upper windows of the mansion and ducked through the weakest points of the Containment sector in order to join us.

"Hey, no fair Tsuzuki!" Saya complained, her small fists clenched benath her chin.

"Yeah, that's so like you! Keeping all the fun to yourself!" Yuma accused, shaking her finger accusingly at me. I shrugged as much as I could, wincing from my various injuries still not altogether resolved. My ear felt and resembled a badly wilted cauliflower.

"That's quite a containment field…" Terazuma remarked, gazing up towards the spinning pentagram, his hand shielding his eyes from the harsh glow. "It's nice to have someone around who actually knows what they're doing."

"Hey! That's just rude!" I had not failing to notice how his eyes lingered on me as he said this. Terazuma made to retort when he was interrupted by the arrival of a white will o' whisp that soared casual as you please into the containment field (Aki looked thoroughly insulted) and dropped down almost dramatically to hover beside Mara's bloodstained ear.

"It is done." Said the doleful voice of the messenger orb. Mara nodded thoughtfully, his fingers not such much as relaxing a hair on the marrionette strings.

"Very good. Make sure to report to the master."

The will o'whisp hovered in place, as though it wished to say more but was having difficulty articulating itself. Mara continued to stare at it, growing increasingly frustrated by its' lack of response.

"My rose bud is here…" The orb said, when at last Mara had seemed on the verge of questioning its' extended visit. The angel exhaled deeply, puffing his cheeks out wide in a purely childlike expression of pure exasperation.

"You know our rule about speaking in code Popo Bawa. No one gets it except you."

The will o'whisp darted sideways and knocked the angel upside the head.

"Kazutaka Muraki… he's here." It explained, as the angel took a lazy retalitory swipe that he clearly didn't have his heart in. "As beautiful as ever…"

Hisoka cottoned onto that small part of the conversation he could relate to and his face seized up as though it had rusted between severe emotions, unable to dictate a turn in any particular direction.

"Muraki?! Where is he? Where is he, dammit!!"

The Bloodbath gazed down upon him with the unmistakable expression upper class people reserve for plebians. I was used to that look myself; Muraki had a bad habit of directing it at me when he wasn't entirely in control of his emotions.

"Your boyfriend went out to see his fiancée. Now I believe he is seeing more of her than he has ever seen before. Things a person ought not normally see…" The angel said conversationally, as though this were not a potentially painful subject. I suddenly recalled Saki's pained exclamation before his rapid depature from the room upstairs… What could have happened to Ukyou, I wondered? My guts went cold with the obvious premonition that Mara's words did not bode positive for my paramour's former lover.

"What should I do?" The will o' whisp asked in Okiko Haruhi's voice.

Mara's face was pure utter disinterest. "Do you want to force him again, is that it?"

A distasteful snort errupted from the orb of light. "Don't be ridiculous. He's far too old for me now. Such a shame… he used to look so much like his brother… There's only one person I would ever rescind on my tastes for…"

"Quit reminiscing. He's one of the marked isn't he? And he has outlived his usefullness. Kill him."

"No! You can't!"

Everyone turned around to stare at me and I gasped dramatically, not intending to have spoken out loud. The will o'whisp paid no attention to what I wanted and with a haughty little chuckle, swung itself in a circle around Mara's head.

"The master said it isn't time for him yet. He still has his uses. And the circle is not near complete yet… there are still others."

"Then go and deal with them." Mara said, swatting at the orb as though it were a particularly irksome bug. "I have business to finish up here. At least some of these meddlesome fools should be removed before they become too great a hindrance."

"Suit yourself." The orb muttered and then burst backwards out through the containment field. We all acted instantaneously, as though this were the starting signal for an attack formation.

I displaced energy beneath my feet and jolted high into the air, using a fuda to instruct a _Breaking _force towards the marrionette in Mara's hands. I was certain that if I could shatter that infernal doll, then I could break the connection between him and the girl. But the Break force moulded around the area where Mara was standing, as though liquid had hit an air buble and shot off the other side, smashing through several topiaries and one fountain with a nude cherub squirting water from a rather distasteful area. I'm certain Muraki wouldn't have missed it.

I heard a roar behind me and sure enough Terazuma had reformed into his Shikigami guise and the large black lion propelled itself violently forwards, saliva frothing at the corners of its' lips. At the same moment, Wakaba lifted herself up into the air as I had, using the resulting friction to fashion aerial binds that she directed towards Mara, the like of which became snakes that's fangs dripped venom, every which one hissing like those that errupted from the Guardian Ghoul upstairs. They struck the shield around Mara, one after the other, Terazuma using his Vocal Blast to assist in breaking through the defensive nexus. Hisoka meanwhile had cast the Soul Catcher around the girl possessed by the living threads of the roses and was working desperately to separate her from the intruding presence. For the moment he held her stationary, which gave Yuma and Saya the time they needed to work at cutting Tatsumi free. Yuma was jibbering a complex blight beneath her breath that was slowly but effectively shredding the influence of the rose thorn tentacles, weakening their essence enough to allow Saya to make more forceful hexes against them, which for the time being were unsuccessful. All of Aki's concentration was going into maintaining the containment barrier but he was occasionally throwing Base Spells into the lower portion of Mara's defensive sphere, weakening the foundations where he was able to. I could see sweat beginning to bead on the angel's forehead.

"It won't work, Guardians." He hissed, as I positioned my fingers together, intending to call up the assistance of Byakko. Mara's eyes narrowed on me, then widened with cold fury as he saw my middle digits loop around my index fingers. "NO!" He roared suddenly and a second displacement of energy threw us all back collectively, causing the containment field around us to shrink momentarily before Aki regained his concentration. "You will _not _call those infernal Shikigami, Flesh Bearer! I do not intend to deal with the slaves of common Hades sewer-rats!"

I released a second Breaking Force but again the energy rebounded. Seven to one and we couldn't even touch this guy!

Mara didn't appear the least bit elated by the fact that he had us all hopping mad by this stage. If possible, he seemed twice as pissed off as we were.

"Ignorant whelps!" He roared and I had to wonder where that cherubic image of the angelics had come from, because this guy was certainly a far cry from it. "You have no power against me! I am coated in the blood of my kin and the powers of Hades are immune to the radiation of the pure! You cannot bear the touch of the blood of angels, because you yourselves were properly denied it! To you it is poison and your powers have no effect! Your efforts are pointless! You are impure, you are filthy! And you have worn my patience far too thin!" Light glared violently around the frame of his face. "Begone with you, dogs of Hades!"

His fingers clenched violently about the wooden frame that held the mannequin suspended and with a sudden violently sqeaulching sound, I distinctly heard something slither up behind me. I turned just in time to see that whilst Mara had been quite liberally hurling mud at us, the remaining tentacles of the Bowel-Thorn had been sneaking up behind us. One of them actually reached up to tap me on the shoulder and by the time I had raised my fuda bearing hand, the abominable thing was spearing around my wrist, pinning it up and out of the way, forcing my wrist back so far that I dropped the fuda. A scream fleshed out out of my throat as my wrist snapped and then the dreadful vine was letting go, snapping around like a whip before spearing relentlessly down through the upper part of my back, around my spin and just below the largest knub in my neck. It worked inside of me like a finger with no bones, actually manueuvering around my spine before bursting free through my chest, out of my upper left pectoral. Blood splattered out of my mouth and bubbling down my chin as an extraordinary pain flooded through my system, as though someone had just punched me in the back of the neck whilst holding a stonefish. Excruciating torture-like pain; the kind of pain that would make you tell people, quite happily what your favorite position in bed is and what toys you like to employ whilst getting on the job. The kind of pain I'm sure the Nazi's would have _loved _to have known about during the Second World War. That kind of pain.

I could hear the others screaming and knew they were enduring the self-same treatement but I had no means of getting to them. The dreaded tentacle, dripping with my blood and spinal juices, bore me down towards the ground chest first and I made contact with such force that all the air in my working lung (the other one had been punctured when the writhing thorn had entered) was knocked out of me. The tentacle speared into the ground and then came out of the dirt beside me, wrapping around and around my midsection, tying me against the grass, occasionally reinforcing the bind by spearing through my leg, then my arm and then finally up and out through my shoulder. The pain was so blindingly intense that I phased in and out of consciousness; the sensation increased moreso by the simple fact that my body was instantaneously trying to heal around the intrusions and it was fighting to come together. I was biting through my lip, trying to be brave and push through it, fighting to break free. I ripped my leg up and away from the grass and the tentacle pulled it immediately back down into place, spearing through the base of my foot this time as though to teach me a lesson for my impertinence.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Mara swinging the mannequin languidly from side to side and the girl tightened the veins that had speared through each of us. From right beside me, I could hear the deep rumbling whimper of Terazuma's lion form. Even in his advanced state he'd been unable to shake himself free. And I realized why. Mara's words were true. We'd been poisoned by the Angels blood, the terrible radiation it emmitted. He was the perfect enemy to set against us because as souls that had been unable to ferment properly, we were unable to touch or even associate with the pure essence of the Angelics.

"No more of your meddling." Mara whispered, the harsh anger that had been present in his voice giving way now to a more concentrated drawl. "With the exception of the one still required, you shall all pass on your way to your determined justice. Goodbye brave Guardians. It is regrettable..." My eyes bulged and I struggled with renewed vigour as Mara raised the mannequin again. It was too much to hope for a slap across the wrist and a severe scolding. Whatever was coming next was going to finish us and I couldn't do anything but lie there and take it.

"Muraki…" I whispered, eyes fluttering shut, too afraid to see whatever was coming next. My stomach gurgled, bile rising in my throat as the angels poison drenched my system. But there was pain on a different level; a pain I'd never experienced before. A pain I was completely unfamiliar with but understood none the less because it was a feeling every living person was born with. An engrained longing; a hope that every person in love felt. "Please be safe…"

I heard the whistle of the Bowel-Thorn's tentacles slicing through the air and waited for my life to end.

_SHANK!_

A loud crack resounded through the area, like the snap of a whip and the pain I'd be preparing for never came. I cranked my eyes open a bare sliver and peered beyond the pain, trying to see what was going on. The Bowel-Thorn's tentacles had fallen to the ground an inch from our collective faces and simply lay there, jerking with gradually dissipating spasms.

That same snapping sound came again and something suddenly cut through the strings of the marrionette, sending the disjointed wooden doll down to clatter against the ground, limbs splayed and useless.

"What's this?" Mara gasped as a cut opened up on his cheek and he pressed his fingers against it, registering the pain and wetness at the same time it seemed. "But who could-"

"Sorry ta ruin yer fun. _Devaputra-Mara-Maya._" I managed to force my head around just far enough to catch sight of who was speaking. There was a man standing on top of the kissing gate; a man with dark purple hair, who was smiling contentedly down towards the startled angel holding a bladed flail in one gloved hand, which he now cast aside having accomplished the job for which it had been necessary.

It was Ichibana. Although I almost didn't recognize him. He was dressed in some exotic attire, that for the most part resembled the skin tight ribbons of a Kunoichi (**3**), his feet swathed in the toe-dividing tabi, used to scale ropes and walls. I supposed it had looked better on him when he had been younger and fitter but after fourteen years in Watari's glasses, he wasn't quite as slender and mascular as he used to be. He was bulging a little in places.

Ichibana slid a unlit cigarette between his still smiling lips and when he withdrew it, the tip was alight. I could sense his dark red eyes upon me.

"Ye all right, doll?"

"Seen better days…" I managed through bursts of pain. "Can't say I'm sorry to see you here though."

"Inconceivable …" Mara murmured, his fingers still lightly carressing the oozing cut on his cheek. "So it's true that the Dark Scourge had resurfaced… how were you able to enter the Containment, your Highness?"

Ichibana just smiled and tapped ash free from the burning cylinder between his fingers, eye shut against the baleful glare of the corrupted angel.

"What's happened to you?" Mara hissed, clearly more than a little disturbed by this interruption. "Why did you betray us? Why would you help these flesh saplings after everything their kind has done to you?

Ichibana finally raised his lashes from the curve of his cheek, releasing the glow of those dark red eyes and a wave of smoke from deep inside his body all in the same instance.

"I'm terribly sorry ta have caused ye such inconvenience, Mara, my friend. But I realized a lot of things whilst I was a one of ye, whilst I watched the suffering of that boy. I learnt that to err is a vice only humans have a place in committin' and that we as Paranormals should know better. And I think… yes, I believe I love humans very much, though not nearly as much as I hate every one a you, whom would judge them when ye have no place ta do so." He smiled pleasantly, fingertips of his unoccupied hand pressed against the wall of his chest. "I follow the example made by Kanshisha Seimei-Kyouyo Kyandoru Sakura-Niwa-Kami before me."

"Kanshisha Seimei-Kyouyo Kandoru Sakura-Niwa-Kami, huh?" Mara repeated skeptically and I was amazed that he was able to recall such a vividly complex name. "The apple certainly doesn't fall far from the tree, does it, your Highness? I must say, I'm a little disappointed in you, Hephaestus. Having raised you in part."

Ichibana, didn't so much as drop a millimeter from his smile.

"There's no need ta be so formal, Mara. I ain't no one's 'ighness anymore and I'm certainly no longer the Forger. That ship has sailed. I desire no further part in trainin' the innocent ta give their lives for a cause they have little ta no knowledge of." Sakura blossoms suddenly burst through the air around him with a sound like a cannon going off, Ichibana's entire structure seemed to change and adopt an almost demonic visage, the canine teeth of his upper maw distended over his lower lip and something white broiling in the cup of his free hand, held aloft over his head. The cherry blossoms were spirraling into his palm, as though lurred down a drain by a current intended entirely for the pink flowers of Japan's most beautiful and mysterious tree.

"My name," He said, though there was greater significance to his words now. "Is Ichibana. Son of the _Infinitus_."

Judging from the dramatic countenance of Mara's features, I took this admittance to indicate that this name was intended to mean something. Something frightening, if not awe inspiring at the very least.

"An Infinitus?!" The angel gasped and I could feel his hold on me weakening, as though he suddenly realized he'd just made a huge error in accosting us and wanted to rectify his mistake as quickly as possible. The Bowel-Thorn's weeping tendrils eased out through the holes in my leg, chest, arm, foot and shoulder, causing brief but relieving pain, allowing the bones and muscle to rapidly begin knitting back into place. "That's… impossible! Only demon-gods are ranked Infinitus! So you…"

"And what is it exactly that you think you are looking at?" Ichibana said, rather conversationally, the petals of the sakura forming what appeared to be a winding sash of pink and white silk that stretched up high into the air and then curved down to swirl about his body artistically. "My rank is Fillius-Deus of Undecim-Undecim Ago. A worth that far exceeds yours, I dare say. Ye and those ya stand beside have brought great shame upon a great many people that I love, _Devaputra-Mara-Maya. _Yah, I knew what we were capable of. Back then, when we answered to the reinin' Ruler of the Netherworld. I know a great many things about yer cause, for it was once my cause also. But I have no desire for that sort of vorld any longer. This is ze world of ze 'umans and God has given it ta them to do with as they wish. And there are some vonderful 'umans that do their very best, ta make the best of this chance they are given. Neither you, nor I, nor ze Master has ze right ta deny them of vhat God has granted them!" He extended his hand and the great sakura sheathe lashed out and downward like a snake striking. As it cut through the air, it suddenly split open at the center and broke apart, forming into two wings that framed either wide of burning funnel of white flame that in turn shattered into a thousand pieces of glass. Each shard speared directly towards Mara but the angel reacted efficiently and snapped both sets of fingers on each hand bringing them down towards the ground in a sweeping gesture. The friction this caused in the air seemed to create a kind of menial shield composed of a crackling pink kinetic energy. The first shards of glass shattered against the barrier but then Mara had to bring his hands back up in a reverse pattern to reknew the thread. This left an opening wide enough to allow several winged plumes to spear though and the angels neck opened up on one side, as well as his upper left arm. He cried out but pushed though the pain, reinforcing the shield three more times, until the capacity of Ichibana's own spell depleted.

"Hmm. None too shabby for a sapling." Mara murmured, managing a somewhat exhausted smile. "How very amusing you are, _Hephaestus. _And so very adorable also. If a little huskier than the last time we met." Ichibana simply huffed and tossed his wavy hair back over his shoulder.

"Sure, laugh it up, mate. Ye spend fourteen years bound to an een-animate object and see 'ow trim ya look at the end of it."

"As though you haven't always been beautiful, Your Highness." The angel murmured, with a hint of a taunting smile. By refusing to use Ichibana's favored name, he was ensuring that their playing fields would remain level. "I can easily see why _you _were Ashitarote's favorite."

I saw Ichibana visibly blanch. This comment, above all others, had gotten to him. He actually _blushed_, which was as far from Ichibana's behavior as it was Muraki's. "You… knew of his Majesties feelings?"

"Who didn't know?" Mara laughed. "Did he not destroy a quarter of the world for you, by releasing Hell's Great Plagues in the 1500's? A demons expression of love… bloated bodies of boils and sores piled up atop one another. A bed of putrefying flesh that I heard you were more than happy to lay upon and spread your legs, your Highness. I don't doubt that is how you achieved the rank of Apostle at such a rate, whilst others had to work their way up by more honest means."

"Fourteen years and yer still the same old cunt I remember." Ichibana's primal fury rendered him as ugly as I had ever seen him. Teeth clenched together tightly, he held high the cigarette, pinched between index and middle finger. It seemed to me that the ember glowed more brightly. "Let's see how ye fair against this, shall we? Try not ta bore me, handsome."

Again the cherry blossoms dominated the scene and they cascaded out from behind Ichibana and from the bright orange ember of the cigarette shot a plume of pure red energy not once but at least six separate bursts exploded out of it, like a magically accelerated cannon. We all watched, utterly perplexed by the skill this creature demonstrated over the fundamental _mana _nexus. A vocal command was nearly always necessary in order to relay authority over the physicality of the underlying energy accessible to the Paranormal beings of the world. And to manipulate manner of this power, with only one element to his preference (and not even a standard element such as fire, water, wind, air, metal or earth but cherry blossoms of all things!) was unheard of! Especially when he was conducting his efforts entirely through mental commands! It was astonishing, to say the least! Where had a mere djinni of a Jann tribe (the most humble of all djinn) managed to acquire such power?

Mara gasped and came to the split second conclusion that perhaps it would be best to sacrifice his hostage, in exchange for momentary self-preservation. The Bowel-Thorn tendrils snapped free from their excruciating hold about Tatsumi so suddenly that he dropped directly downwards like a stone from a childs hand; a child that had lost abject interest in whatever this object had initially had to offer. Biting back the still formidable pain, I made to run to him, to get him effectively out of harms way once and for all but again to my surprise, Wakaba took immediate action. Paying no mind to her own injuries, she ploughed headfirst through the lashing tendrils of the Bowel-Thorn, grappled Tatsumi's near-conscious body around the waist and vaulted away, just in time to avoid being crushed by the gore covered tentacles as they all crashed together, forming an inpermeable wall in front of Mara. The flesh of the intestines burned sickeningly as the bursts of accelerated energy made contact with it but for the most part, held strong against the onslaught. Wakaba landed hard on the other side of the garden and immediately pulled herself on top of Tatsumi, wincing and shaking as she protected him with her own body, tears spilling down her cheeks as she held him tight against her. I could see her silently mouthing his name, begging him for some intelligable response, just enough to indicate that he was alright.

"Kanuuki!" Terazuma screamed and made as though to follow her but Aki fortunately got a hold of him just in time. Kyandoru's cherry blossoms had provided a secondary onslaught to the continuing purges of power that shot from the barely burning embers of his cigarette. The blossoms speared themselves directly at the barrier, every second one becoming a white rabbit with eyes of blood red. The rabbits hurled themselves, kamikaze like, against the gore riddled shield, exploding with invasive _mana _on direct impact, leaving gaping chasms in the defensive barrier. The sakura that did not transform, pulled a yellow friction through the air as it tunneled downward and forced itself against the remains of the Bowel-Thorns tendrils like water attempting to escape from a burst dam. I could see Mara desperately trying to reinforce his defenses but the strain on his face revealed that this endeavour was far too difficult, when confronted by this enormous scale of power.

"It's useless." Ichibana stated and there was no egoism to his voice, no sense that he was bragging. He still appeared cheerful for the most part but somehow, there was nothing to his tone that indicated that he felt himself superior to the creature floundering beneath his onslaught. "Yer nothin' compared ta me."

I knew his eyes glanced to me, even if only for a second.

His eyes came back to Mara. "This is dull." He said and with a slight jerk of his hand, the sakura petals burst through what remained of the Bowel-Thorn's tentacles. Mara cried out in alarm and his fingers spasmed desperately in what I'm sure was a secondary attempt at erecting another defense but it was already too late. The cherry-blossoms became white threads and they entangled the angels limbs securely, pressing his arms in against his chest, binding his useless wings and covering his eyes and mouth so that he could not see and could not scream for help. He struggled like a bird in a net, but was unable to take flight and could do naught to free himself. It was a pitiful and at the same time satisfying sight.

"Enough games," Ichibana insisted, his smile having dropped for a moment but now reappearing again as vivaciously bright as before. "Ye may think I'm a pushover because I'm short, size ten, cheerful as all get out and centuries younger than ye, don't ye? Ye would be wrong to think so. Oh sure, I'm a nice enough guy now but that's only because I was a tutelary, who failed to protect someone that I loved. Before now… back before he taught me 'ow ta love people again, I was ze same as that man zese young people here came ta seek." He dropped the cigarette down into the garden and crouched on the kissing gate, gloved hands draped casually over his bent knees, both eyes shut as he happily surveyed the tortured visage of the denied angel. "Oh yes, I murdered a great many people and held life itself in very frail regard. But being in love changes all zat. And I was fortunate to have been loved by more an incredibly selfless person… I won't ever forget 'is sacrifice. Now, would you be so kind as to deliver a message fer me?" Ichibana made a little yanking motion with his hand, as though pulling on a fishing line and the cords binding Mara tightened considerably, causing portions of his flesh to tear and thin trails of blood to ooze free. The angel moaned but could articulate no further response and apparently it was uneeded anyway. "Explain ta yer master that he has blighted me in a great many vays and that I will no longer tolerate 'is egoism. Explain ta 'im that I do not take kindly ta those that spurn my children. Make sure he knows that the awakening is almost upon us. I want him to know that whilst I may be a 'uman lovin' saplin' djinni of no real importance, he does not want ta fuck with me. Tell 'im, I'm comin' for the boy again and I'm comin' with my full wrath, this time. He will not continue ta suffer the children. 'Is name will not be remembered. And should he ever touch those under my protection," the ground around Ichibana burst into flame and his visage dissolved and became entirely demonic, exposing the nightmare creature within for just a mere second. As though a sash had been pulled away and then thrown back on, allowing only a fleeting glimpse of a skeletal corpse, wreathed in tendrils of burning flesh and a sunken skull with eyes of green fire. "_He will suffer the wrath of the The Dark Scourge!" _The flames died down and Ichibana's handsome smiling visage snapped back into place. "On those conditions, I'll let ye go. Do ya understand?"

The angel gave a kind of jerking spasm, to either indicate that he had gotten all that or to tell Ichibana to get stuffed. Although this was impossible to interpret, Ichibana looked increasingly pleased as he leapt down off of the kissing gate and strolled forward to see into Mara's bound features.

"That's wonderful. Ye be on yer way now, little birdie." The cords unraveled, leaving the angel a slumped panting mess on the ground. He was just about to climb to his feet, when Ichibana put his hand decidedly against his head. "Which reminds me; I don't think I can have ye flaunting those wonderfully morbid powers about anymore, young man. I think I shall 'ave ta bind ye, at least fer the time bein'." There was a flash of white light and where the angel was sitting now resided a white dove, equally patched by red stains as the angel had been. Ichibana picked it up, smiling down into its suitably pissed off expression. "Now, now, don't look at me like that. Ye'll still be able to deliver a message in that form. And now ye'll know better than to drag innocent young girls into Undead Politics, isn't that right? Go on with you now. Fly away home. I'll take that spell off of you when I feel the message has really sunk in. Or maybe one of yer superiors might do it for ye; if they're in a good mood. I wouldn't count on it."

Ichibana threw the little dove into the air and with an offended squark, the bird winged its' way back up into the sky, blending into the clouds until I could no longer discern its' form. Aki managed to sort his senses through and with a muttered nuance, decreased the surrounding barrier until it had dissolved completely. Ichibana watched it with polite interest, gloved hands set upon his dramatically curved hips.

"I must say I'm a little disappointed with yer efforts, Guardians. Particularly ye, Tsuzuki." He gazed at me with fond eyes. "But still… the Apostles are forces that are not to be lightly trifled with. Fortunately, I'm a dab hand at trifling."

"Ichibana, what are you doing here?" I asked, wondering if we would have to face off with every Paranormal asshole in Japan before the day was out.

Ichibana looked surprised. " I'm bound to always act in the Blondie's best interests and I had an inklin' feelin' that somethin' not too pleasant was goin' ta be goin' down here today. So, after I got yer call I just up and shakey-shaked my big butt down here ta see if I could lend a hand and whattya know; turns out I was right Which is how I like it." He concluded, running his hand back through his hair in that very familiar arrogant fashion I'd grown accustomed to seeing him use.

A great number of questions sat poised on the tip of my tongue, the first of which was what had the name Hephaestus meant? I could swear I'd heard it used somewhere before but couldn't put my finger on where exactly this might have been.

"It was the name I was given by me old gaffer," Ichibana said, causing me to jump as he flashed a jaunty wink in my direction. I forgot that he had underdeveloped telepathic abilities. "I preferred to go by the name me first 'uman master gave me, 'cause me and me Dad get along like lemonaide and ice-cream."

"Lemonaide and ice-cream?" This was Aki.

"Nice on our own but mix us ta-gether and ya get a very bad stomach ache, if ye know what I mean." The djinni stated with an exaggerated and cocky laugh. "Now, what else were you thinkin' of askin' me, sugar? What did I mean when I said I was a tutelary?"

"It's bad enough with Hisoka doing that, without _you _adding to it!" I grumbled, trying to keep the boy himself from hearing my complaint.

Ichibana chuckled lightly, waving one hand distractedly down over his body so now he was wearing a black crop top, knee length leather shorts and blue lace up boots with a see-through jacket thrown over top. I felt better now all that skin was covered up; it was kind of distracting when you're trying to have a conversation with someone and you suddenly realize you can see that they have a tattoo on their right ass cheek.

"I was the guardian of someone who was bein' held captive by Mara's Master, formally my master." He curled his lip disgustedly, brushing his fingers back through his hair again, which suddenly turned platinum white and whipped down his back into a waist length braid. Being a shape-shifter must have been fun, I thought perhaps a little sourly. Never mind a hairdresser, beautician and the works; get bored with your look and with a wave of your hand, all was refreshed. Always guaranteed to look good. Which made me wonder why Ichibana didn't bother to do something about the weight he had stacked on but he was so confident I don't think it really affected him negatively in any way whatsoever. "I 'elped zis person escape fifteen years ago and had spent twelve months protectin' 'im from ze forces that had been pursuin' them. Which ain't easy none, let me tell ya. I may pack a punch 'gainst Mara but that's only 'cause we be contrary essence. 'Gainst the whole frickin' lo' of them, I was fuckin' 'ardly be'er 'n useless." He admitted with a bashful sort of smile.

Tutelary… it was an old fashioned word that meant Guardian. But there was another meaning to it within the Ministry of Hades proper. A Tutelary was a Guardian established by a trusted bond between individuals and such a being was bestowed with a great and terrible responsibility; they were driven and compelled to protect a particular person until the end of days. But they were increasingly rare; perhaps the rarest race on earth with only one in one-hundred million people having made this daring choice to become a Tutelary. To become fully instigated, a forbidden spell had to be cast but to do so was considered the highest taboo; you formed an unbreakable link with the person you chose to become a tutelary for and this implied a great number of complications. Shared suffering, madness and possible insanity should one half die whilst the other lives. Suffering should the other suffer and so forth. An unbreakable bond… which meant you were tied forever to that person… no matter how many lives they lived. Eternally bound. _Soulmates._

A Tutelary was treated as something of a leper in the Paranormal world. No… not even this… they were treated the same way one might treat a man if they knew he was involved in an incestuous relationship with his mother, sister, brother, father. They were thought of as being rather sick and demented, because to become a Tutelary was a pervasion of the highest spiritual order. It meant to transfer a little part of yourself into another person, and to take half of them back into yourself, to replace the missing part of your soul. Which technically meant that _yes, _you were then considered to be related to your 'soulmate' and any sexual relations that took place between you was borderline incest. It was how demons mated with one another for life; it was their marriage ritual, a connection of the highest order and the arousing taboo that coincided with it, seemed to simply add to the allure, rather than dim it.

A Tutelary that had lost its' other half was considered to be one of the saddest things in the world. Most Tutelaries went insane with grief and eventually killed themselves. But Ichibana seemed quite contrary to the norm. Unless of course he _was _insane and this cheerful façade was just that.

The djinni, unconcerned by my reaction to his confession, checked his watch, which I noticed was an incredibly guady thing with a picture of Micky Mouse in the center that's hands pointed to the time. "I really must be getting' back. Ye know Blondie can't be gettin' along wi'out me fer too long. But ano'er reason I decided ta help ye all out today was because I sensed somethin' in my spiritual disturbance that I just couldn't ignore and it made me so anxious that I had to get here and verify it as soon as possible." He came towards me and stood on tiptoes to see into my face. He had a nice smile but for some strange reason, he made me nervous, as though I were predisposed to not want him anywhere near me. "Tsuzuki… by any chance, have you been in contact with my better half?"

I blinked cluelessly at him. "Your… better half? I dare say I have, considering how many people you've had ah, liasons with." I said, using Tatsumi's word. I got a smack around the face for my efforts.

Ichibana glared at me reproachfully as I carressed my throbbing cheek. "I should have phrased myself a little better. Please try and take this seriously, maat. This is very important. I haven't seen 'im in many years now and I'm terrified of what might have become of 'im."

I nodded. "After what you just did for us, I'd be glad to help. What's yer better halves name?"

Ichibana looked deeply troubled. "And therin lies the dillema. He barely knows who and what he is anymore… the curse has become so strong…. It's the same way as in my kind. Do you have any idea what I meant when I told Mara that my rank was Fillius-Deus of Undecim-Undecim Ago?"

"I did not," I said, raising one brow curtly. "In so many ways I did not."

"It means God-Son-of-The-Eleven-Eleven-lives." Ichibana explained, picking up the flail like weapon he had dropped beneath the gate when he'd rushed to use his magic to counter Mara.. "Demons often have a secondary name relating to their status and a demon or demi-demon as it is in my case, is estimated by their value in comparison to the lives of humans. I am apparently worth one-thousand-one-hundred and eleven lives. Eleven-eleven. My father's title is Infinitus, which only the highest ranking demonic gods are afforded." He smirked, almost as though embarrassed. "The name my father gave me at birth was Hephaestus the forger… but… I prefer to go by the name my very first human master gave me, the first human being I ever loved and trusted…" He turned back to me hopefully. "Ichibana. The composition of elemental factors between Heaven, man and earth. It symbolizes everything that opposes the values of those benighted creatures I once served, who wish nothing more than ta make the human realm into a place that would best serve their own ignorant desires." He stuck his nose into the air like a haughty cat. "If a one of them had witnessed the best of human nature, perhaps they would have a more sympathetic view on my opinions but demons and angels are very out of touch with what's going on in this 'ere plane of reality."

Some of it finally made a little bit of sense; why Ichibana could exorcise such vigorous mental commandments over the immaterial nexus! If his father was a demon god, then Ichibana himself wasn't entirely djinni but a halfie, much like me. Though, this shouldn't have implied he deserved any of the esteem his father obviously credited. Demonic-halfies were treated pretty much the same in their realm as I was treated as a little boy, which was _horrendously_. No wonder Ichibana had never said anything about possessing demons blood. But it made me feel a little closer to him somehow…

"And of your better half?" I asked, trying tentatively to steer the subject back on track. The djinni grinned, far too cheekily and raised one finger into the air to sashay about with as much sass as his own confident personality.

"Ne'er found out 'is true name an' all but he went by Pandora."

_**- End Part 2 of 1 -**_


	28. Tsuzuki: Death Precedes Us Pt: 3

_**Dark Adaptation**_

_**Death Precedes us with a Knowing Smile: Part 3 of 1**_

"_**Like God, I do not play by the roll of a dice and I do not believe in coincidence." – V from the move "V from Vendetta".**_

_He went by Pandora…_

"Pandora?" I repeated the name back slowly and Ichibana smiled into the opposite direction to which I was standing.

"Aye, Pandora. He was a cute liddle tacker… all mussed dark blond hair, ass and elbows… cute as a toetetsu." He turned to face us, waving both open hands up and down belligerantly. "Ye know… 'e looked a bit like you." He said, directing Hisoka's attention towards our conversation. Until now he had been lost in the speculative musings of Tatsumi's feeble condition and had barely spared a thought for our savior.

"Who?" My partner asked as he wandered over. I remembered abruptly that he had not before met Ichibana and had not an inkling that the savy half-djinni worked for Watari. In a manner of speaking. Hisoka gave Ichibana a kind of withering once over, whilst the semi-gothic, catlike man posed for his viewing pleasure, hands on hips and nearly every one of his sharp, white teeth on display. Once Hisoka had turned his attention on Ichibana, it didn't take long before the others (Wakaba and Tatsumi excluded) came wandering over for a look-see. Yuma and Saya in particular, I noticed, did not seem the least bit sorry at being saved by someone who though not tall and not exactly slender, was certainly an eye-pleaser. Ichibana naturally noticed their attentions the moment they were directed on him and he basked in it, as contentedly as a cat laps up an unhindered ray of sunlight.

"_Ja, ja, _adore me." He encouraged, with an egotistical flutter of his hand. Neither Yuma nor Saya seemed bothered by his arrogance and had elapsed into a fit of girlish giggling hysteria. Aki too couldn't seem to take his eyes away from the djinni's exotically garmented figure and I was almost jealous. Almost.

"Thankyou for saving us." Hisoka said, with a humble dip of his head. His heart wasn't exactly in his voice however and no warmth reached his eyes when he raised them to meet Ichibana's crimson soaked gaze again. "But… who are you exactly?"

Ichibana pretended to be humble, his delicate fingers pressed light against his mostly bare chest. "Who, little ol' me?" He winked at Hisoka in such an uncanny impersonation of Watari that I figured he must have copped onto more of his mannerisms in their fourteen years together than even he had realized. "I ain't nothin' but the dream that fulfills everyone's wishes, toots. The merest touch of my hand," He waved his own about lavishly. "Can ignite a raging inferno in the loins of even the most hormone impaired."

"His name is Ichibana." I stated, incurring a rather put upon expression from the Paranormal under discussion. "He's a djinni of the Jann tribe. And he owes me some allegiance apparently." I sighed deeply, relieved that I could provide an answer to one question at least. "Yes. Yes I do know Pandora, Ichibana. He was here only minutes before you turned up yourself."

No longer bothering with his wimsical theatrics, Ichibana repeated my sigh and pressed a hand over his face, momentarily appearing much older than he truly seemed. Palpable relief washed over him and his eyes shimmered, as though he were briefly entertaining the permittance of tears.

"He's alive…?" He questioned hesitantly. "I feared that 'e would be punished, fer tryin' ta get away… But, he seemed all right ta ye? I mean… I was going to keep him protected and then fourteen years ago… I just… disappeared…"

Fourteen years ago… no doubt in my mind what had happened there. The date fit perfectly. "I'm sorry you were so deeply troubled." I said with a low bow. "But Ichibana, this Pandora… I've spoken with him many times. He has curse markings all over his body and he… well, he's a Once-Human right?"

"_Ja._" The djinni established, sweeping his long nails back through his fashionably shaggy hair. One of the edges must have been torn, because they briefly snagged on the return journey, making him whince momentarily. "But 'e couldn't recall 'is true name. Jus' a few memories 'ere and there… didn't matter none ta us much. We was happy. We done made us a home away from that Hell… Heaven don't last long 'nough as it should though."

"You blame Watari?" I asked, testing the waters. I kept my voice low, because no one else was supposed to know that Watari had been containing a level three djinni in his glasses. "Because he was sent to stop you absorbing the souls of the dead and he trapped you?"

"Watari?" Ichibana mused thoughtfully, head tipped back as though he were surveying a drifting thought. Then he was grinning at me, eyes shut and all teeth. "'Ow could I hate that nappy little blond number?"

Again, that vague sense of familiarity tugged at my senses. "Nappy little blond number…?" I repeated, an amused quirk lilting my lips upward. Ichibana trotted over towards me and leaned up on tippytoes (he was only five foot six, a real shorty) to lay a kiss against my cheek. He'd always been real fond of me, though in a more nurturing, maternal way but he'd never kissed me before, not even on the cheek. Sure he'd hugged me, lounged in my lap or patted my ass occasionally but that was the sort of behavior I was used to from him. I nearly wet myself when following this sincere little gesture, Ichibana slid his arms up around my neck and hugged me both tightly and warmly.

"I'm relieved ta hear e's still up and about." Having done his mooshy moment for the day, Ichibana hurriedly released me with a merry clap on the shoulder and then trundled over to pick up the unconscious figure of the mangled Bowel Thorn. "I'll clean up, 'ere. Sorry to rush off like this and leave you so unsatisfied doll but there are urgent matters of which only I am fit to attend to." He leaned close to me and leered almost suggestively. "I dare say we shall be seein' one another again very soon. Until then; adieu, sweet adieu."

And with a swirl of sakura, our perverted savior was gone. I took a moment simply to savor the silence and nearly burst out laughing when I caught sight of the purely exasperated expression on Hisoka and Terazuma's faces.

"What… was that all about?" The detective asked, his left hand eye twitching tellingly at the corner.

"Just an old friend, who felt he owed me a favor." I said mysteriously, watching with some amusement as Aki inhaled deeply on the air as the sakura drifted past him, his expression almost dopey, as though hopped up high on something suspicious.

"Whatever it was…" He sighed, a stupid smile stretching up his face. "Smelt damn good… And you even got a kiss from him! Lucky."

I shouldered him a little more roughly then was perhaps necessary as I made my stalwart way over to the hunched figure of Wakaba, plucking white and pink blossoms out of my hair as I went. My fellow Guardians, nursing still healing injuries, followed along in my wake and we gathered around Tatsumi's still and blood soaked figure, watching with silent reverence as Wakaba gingerly mopped the sweat of his brow, holding his upper torso tightly in line against her own.

"Is he all right?" I asked, reassured to see the shallow dips of my former partners chest. It seemed as though he was having difficulty breathing but as long as he was alive, that was all that mattered.

Wakaba nodded but her eyes were squeezed shut and she refused to release custody of Tatsumi to anyone other than herself, even when Aki forcefully attempted to lift him free from her hold.

"He's fine… but…" She hesitated and when I glanced down into her face, her long dark lashes were wet with tears. "He needs to go back to the Ministry… he's lost so much blood…"

"I can take him back," Aki insisted, casting me a look I found difficult to interpret. "From the sound of things, I don't think you guys are finished here."

Hisoka nodded, arms crossed so tightly across his chest it seemed they weren't set to unravel for at least a year. "Princess Tsubaki… she told me that Muraki has a childhood friend, a girl he's in love with. And I gather those demons were talking about the same woman. We find her, we find Muraki."

He wasn't wrong there. That is _exactly _where Muraki was that day.

"I can send out a tracking demon," I said, trying not to seem light hearted about it as I drew the origami symble in the air, breathing life into it so that it became an actual bird with glaringly white feathers and startlingly purple eyes. "We need to find the home of Ukyou Sakagumi; can you lead us there?"

The bird tilted her beautiful white head upward to meet my eyes and with a gentle flutter, lifted herself into the air and hovered just above my head, her long tail feathers trailing down beneath her. She chirped impatiently.

"Guess that's our cue to get going," Terazuma grumbled, his somewhat disenchanted features unable to detach themselves from Wakaba and her brown suited burden. He seemed particularly baffled regarding her attentions towards our superior, more so perplexed rather than concerned. "Kanuuki? … Go back with this fella to the Ministry. Stay there with Tatsumi."

"Terazuma…" Wakaba looked up for the first time since Tatsumi had been released from the Bowel Thorn. I understood all too well that Terazuma meant to spare his partner the distress of having to decide where to direct her attentions. She was clearly more concerned over Tatsumi's condition and Terazuma was attempting to eradicate her guilt by deciding for her. I found this incredibly thoughtful, considering the shapeshifters delicate temper and the deliberate fact that he could have been none too pleased by what he was witnessing. I thought (and I'm sure I'm not the only one) that Terazuma might have had a little crush on Wakaba and I knew for a fact that she was incredibly fond of him. But perhaps… perhaps this was not in a romantic sense as I had previously led myself to believe?

"It's okay." Terazuma said but his voice was slightly slurred, as though he were biting his tongue as he said it. He glared at me as though the entire incident were my fault. "Well? Are we goin' or what?"

"Um… yeah, you guys go on ahead. I'll catch up."

For once, they did as I asked, sensing that I might have needed a quiet moment to sob over Tatsumi's prone figure or something, I don't know. They took off, Terazuma casting furtive glances over his shoulder as he went. I waited until they were out of sight before kneeling down beside Wakaba, watching dolefully as Aki redoubled his attempts to possess her burden.

"Come on, sweetheart. He needs to go. There now." He gently eased Tatsumi out of Wakaba's arms and slung one of the secretary's own around his shoulder. I nodded at him.

"Aki, would you mind taking him back alone? There's something I need to discuss with Wakaba first."

"Sure." Aki stated and instantly proceeded to fade away, taking the unconscious Tatsumi along for the ride. I turned to Wakaba, trying to force her eyes to meet mine but she kept them directed towards the ground, her folded hands stained in patches by Tatsumi's blood. It had seeped into the front of her reconaissance attire and smeared across her neck and face in hodge podge patches.

"Okay Kanuuki," I used her given name more to provoke her attention rather than to introduce a delayed sense of intimacy between us. "What's going on?"

She burst into tears with neither pretence nor warning and it was only by my good fortune that I was able to procure my handkerchief (which Muraki had packed no less) into her bloodstained hands before she thrust her face against them. Her shoulders were shaking from what I assumed was delayed shock.

"I'm s-s-sorry to g-get all emotional like this!" She sobbed, blowing her nose noisely. As the current King (or Queen arguably) of blubbering dramatics, I felt it was hardly my place to comment on her behavior, so I did us all a service and kept my big mouth shut.

"It's okay. It's nothing to apologize for." I explained gently, using my curved index finger to wipe her cheeks. Her tears had turned black on account of her eye makeup and my attentions only left dark smudges against her pale skin. "Seeing what happened to that girl must have really upset you."

"It's not just that," she snuffled, tenderly running the corner of the handkerchief beneath her eyes to clear up the blotches. "I've w-wanted to talk with someone about this for so long but I hadn't the words… I mean, I can't very well discuss it with Hajime, can I?" She finally met my gaze and her own mysteriously mismatched eyes were bloodshot. "You promise to keep this just between us?"

"Of course." I said, wondering who I could possibly tell anyway. It's not like I was the biggest gossip whore about after all. Maybe the second biggest.

Wakaba managed to compose herself a little, cleaning her hands on the handkerchief as she twisted it nervously about. "It's about Seiichirou."

_No shit_, I nearly said but thankfully found a little tact and managed to keep it to myself.

"Go on." I said instead.

"You know he has-" She broke eye contact again and looked to the side instead, as though some foreign object on the ground had caught her attention. "- feelings for you… right?"

I stared at the side of her face, all that she presented me with, affronted but not as surprised as I may once have been by this news.

"By _God _woman!" I cried with much indignation. "Is there _anything _the rest of the Summons Department doesn't find out before me?"

Her attractive eyes widened slightly as she finally returned my gaze. "Oh… so you knew?"

"Only since this morning. Tatsumi seemed to think he wasn't going to survive this mission, so he wanted to have a little tell all." I etched quotation marks in the air as I spoke the words 'tell all'. Come to think of it… Tatsumi very nearly _did _shuffle off that day. Had he had some vague premonatory sense that everything wasn't going to be smooth sailing after all? "Which is stupid…" I concluded lamely. "But how did you know about it?"

Wakaba appeared plaintively surprised. "Well… everyone kind of did. I mean, no offense but it _was _kind of obvious."

"It was not!" I snapped, puffing up in pure indignation. "Not to me at least… not that that's saying much." I sourly wanted to change the subject. "So why didn't anyone think to say anything?"

"Because it wasn't our place to." Wakaba stated firmly, a small frown carressing her features. "If you didn't see it, Tatsumi clearly wasn't ready to let you know. And it wasn't our place to go blabbing it out."

"But that's – look, never mind." I exclaimed, waving my hands about dismissively. "This clearly isn't about me, so why are we talking about it? Why should Tatsumi's apparent hard on for me, make _you _so upset?"

"Well… you're a difficult person to compete against."

"Compete against!?" I realized I was still yelling and lowered my voice to match Wakaba's covet tone. It had hit me then with solemn clarity. "Wakaba… you have feelings for Tatsumi?"

Her hands held the handkerchief over her chin as though she were ashamed to show her face above it.

"I… I think I do." She seemed bizzarely frustrated by her inability to express herself competently. "I'm so confused, Tsuzuki! It's just one thing after another and now this! This isn't something I would normally think about! When I first got an inkling of it… I just tried to ignore it, put it out of my mind and get on with it. But… it's getting so hard." She dropped her arms in a kind of exasperated shrug. "Now I'm… I'm thinking about him all the time. The more I try and stop myself the more I do the opposite. Oh, I don't know!" Her aggravated features tore into my heart. "And I don't know why I'm so worked up about it. I mean, everyone knows Seiichirou likes you!"

"Apparently." I again reminded myself that this was _not _about me. "All I can really suggest is that you talk about this with Tatsumi. He's a reasonable guy. For the most part." This was clearly an overstatement and we both knew it. "But there's something I don't get… don't you and Terazuma… I thought you liked him?"

She shook her head sadly. "Not those sorts of feelings anway. I don't know, he's more like a big brother… or a little brother most of the time." She smiled with fond impatience. "And you know how Seiichirou gets around girls. He gets all… squirrely. It wouldn't be an easy conversation to have."

"The most important conversations never are," I said in a moment of pure sageliness.

"And it doesn't seem fair on Hajime either…" She murmured morosely, looking to the side. "I mean… I don't mean to sound presumptuous but I'm almost sure he might feel something for me. He certainly depends on me and this… it feels like such a betrayal in some way."

"And it might be," I said, not even looking at her as I exposited yet another slice of wisdom. My eyes widened because I was figuring something out. Not just for her but also for myself. "But it's important to be honest to yourself as well. And even if doing that ends up hurting someone else," I saw Hisoka in my minds eye. "There's a reason why we have feelings for people. If you can't stop thinking about someone, it means that you love something about them. Even if it doesn't make much sense at the time."

Wakaba was giving me a very knowing look and I guess she had realized that this talk hadn't been entirely in her favor. I worked the cramped muscles of my face into a smile and pressed the palm of my hand against Wakaba's cheek.

"You're not being fair on Tatsumi, if you're not as honest with him as you have been with me." I expressed, rubbing a smear of eyeliner from beneath the lower curve of her lashes. "Any man would be honored to be loved by a woman such as you. I'm sure Tatsumi can see that. You've got a good head on your shoulders, Wakaba. And everyone likes to hear that somebody finds them attractive, that someone likes them. It can make all the difference in the world to know that. If you really care about Tatsumi, then isn't that enough? And who's to say that he may not eventually reciprocate those feelings?" I shook my finger lightly in her face. "Some people only dare to love a person once they're sure that person feels something for them. Call it a security measure."

Wakaba sniffed and dabbed the end of her nose gingerly on the cleanest corner of the handkerchief she could find.

"You make it sound so easy…" She mumbled, voice muffled slightly by the fabric swaying over her lips. "But… I don't know that I'm secure enough in myself to take that first step… But now… now isn't the moment to be discussing it."

"I think any moment spent on bringing a little more love into the lives of us Guardians is a moment well spent." I said, straightening the ribbons in Wakaba's hair and tidying her up as much as possible. "I, for one, give you my whole hearted support. I would like nothing more than to see you with Tatsumi. I think…" And for some reason, I was seeing Oriya and Watari in my head at that moment. "- that gentle, cheerful people like you, can make all the difference in the lives of others. Especially those that are predisposed to being perhaps a little too serious at times." I added, with a telling wink.

Wakaba's lips quirked up into a smile. "You're right." She gave my extended hand a little slap. "I'll do my best. But I'm not promising anything, so don't expect to be hearing wedding bells when you get back, okay?"

I laughed and pinched her cheek. "I'll put those flower arrangements on back order."

I made sure that Wakaba had made the transition safely before conjuring up a second Guide and instructing it to follow the path of the first one. It took quite some time for us to fly the distance to Nagoya (we weren't able to teleport on account of the messengers) and by the time we touched down outside of the home above which the messengers hovered tellingly, the sky was beginning to grow dark. The light rain that had fallen across Tokyo all day, had given way to a dank humidity in this area of Japan and it was with some level of castigation that I continually found myself plucking the back of my trousers free from my rump as gathering sweat caused it to stick in place.

As I swooped over the house, it became quite obvious (though I was already clued in) that Muraki had come here and was possibly still hanging around. His car was parked in the driveway and only a few flowers from the surrounding trees had fallen to rest on its hood and roof. He must have only arrived recently and the other Guardians were smart enough to realize that this probably meant he was in the house right at that moment. Or he'd left on foot and abandoned his car, which would have been stupid. Considering he'd just had it repaired from when Ukyou had reversed into it and all and I can't imagine that job had been exactly cheap either. Muraki may have been many things but he certainly wasn't the kind of individual that would simply walk away from a considerable investment.

Terazuma, having come over quite surly from his no doubt surmounting suspicions concerning his partner and the department treasurer, was redirecting his frustrations by taking immediate control of the group in Tatsumi's absence. By the time I had landed (still gainfully deploying the seat of my pants from between the crack of my buttocks) he had already employed a _marvelous _plan.

"We kick down the door and run towards him in a single file." The shapeshifter was explaining, with a great number of quite unnecessary gesticulating hand movements. "He can only take out the person in front, one at a time. So, if we order from least important to most important, with Tsuzuki in front and me in the back-" **(4)**

"Fuck you, man." I exclaimed as I dropped down beside him, watching his eyes narrow maliciously at my presence. The next thing I knew his index finger was jabbing directly into my chest with such force that he was actually shoving me backwards, nearly causing me to lose my balance on more than one occasion.

"Don't-fuck-with-me-now-Tsuzuki." He snarled, punctuating each word with a particularly violent jab of his finger. I started to wonder if he had dented a hole in my pectoral. "Not in the mood! If you've got a better idea to get that Mad Eye Lunatic from killing us all in one hit, then I would suggest you share it because in case you hadn't noticed, we're all still a bit bent out of shape from our last encounter with someone who, may I remind you, wasn't even in our job description?"

"Yeah. I noticed." I growled, swiping at Terazuma's hand in order to get him to back up a step. Truth was, I already had a plan. The only plan that was likely to work. In my favor anyway. "My idea," I began, ignoring Hisoka's callous remark that Hell had indeed frozen over, "Is to go in alone." I held up a hand as they all immediately started protesting. "Now, now, listen! You mustn't think I'm being foolish! As Terazuma just said, not a one of us is a hundred percent at the moment. We're all weak and we still have a very big job to do. And you all know how Muraki reacts to me." My cheeks flushed a little at my boldness but I ploughed on anyway. "Let me talk to him first. See if I can't talk him down a little, negotiate some, you know? I just feel that if we go in there casting, roaring, swearing, stabbing, cursing, hexing, jinxing and the like, we're only going to come out the worst for it. And Muraki would probably just teleport out of there before we'd have a chance to lay a scratch on him. We'd probably do more damage to his fiancée than him!"

"For all we know, he's already murdered his fiancée and is sitting there next to her dead body having a cup of tea." Hisoka growled, not unfairly as he glanced over his shoulder towards the house. I could see the pressure of his deeply entrenched and rightful urge to take revenge against the man who had been responsible for his death and rape, working him over. He was raring to get inside. Mentally bursting at the seams to return his suffering with interest.

I sighed deeply, felt myself being devoured by that raging guilt that stirred in the depths of my body like a coiled snake, roused by the movement of the prey that was my weak emotions. Sometimes, I dare wished that this snake would one day devour me completely and soothing darkness would be all I knew. But escape was no longer that simple for me anymore and I simply had to push on, doing what I could do resolve this situation as best I could. Tomorrow was a new day. I could only take a step at a time in this long journey and keep my back to the starving snake that longed to devour me.

Sometimes… I think I could see myself reflected in the eyes of that beast, chained down in my soul. It drew closer each day.

"We can't just assume that, Hisoka." I said, trying to be reasonable. The boy just gave me a churlish look and I started to feel the slightest bit miffed. His attitude towards me lately was inconceivable; unless of course he had some idea… no, he couldn't have done. I'd kept my thoughts carefully and deliberately shielded from him. There was no way he could have figured it out… "Hisoka… come on. I know you wanna run that guy through pretty damn badly. We all do." Depending on the mood I was in, this wasn't exactly an outright lie. And stop laughing Watari, that's not what I meant! "But we can't get careless. Look what happened with Tatsumi. I don't want to see anything like that happen to you guys… not unless it's you, Terazuma." The shifter made an extremely rude gesture. "Now, now, be nice. I'm offering to front my ass up as a distraction and you're getting all potty handed with me."

"Guess my suggestion of you flashin' your tits at him wasn't so far off after all, eh?" Aki said, with an uncertain and sad smile. "Sorry for the crude language ladies."

"They're crude themselves. Yes you are!" I insisted as both girls started urgently marching protests at me. "I heard you two talking about your boobs on our last staff vacation to Hokkaido!"

"Like you and Watari don't talk dirty to each other every time I see you at work." Yuma exclaimed, whilst Saya just held back a string of severe giggles for reminding her of that particular conversation the girls had had whilst in the hot springs. The boys area had been right behind the wall surrounding theirs, incidentally. "You two are always talking about your bodies and other guys bodies and girls bits and pieces… it's really gross! You're both as poofy as all get out and there you are carrying on about how hot the new receptionist in the _Sakura Zensen _is!"

"Well she is!" I defended, preparing to out my second rebuttal when suddenly my recently healed ear was stinging again. I glared at Terazuma who glared right back as though daring me to say something.

"You were going inside… to talk to Muraki." He grunted out, having managed to restrain himself from saying something far more offensive I imagined. "And then… what? What's your big plan after you have a nice little tete-a-tete with him? Shag him senseless and then call us in to carry him out all wrapped up in a dirty sheet?" He snorted as though violently disagreeing with what he'd just said. "But wait… that would imply you even know _how _to have sex and everyone here knows you're about as experienced as a little girl."

This stung so bad that I nearly hit him and I honestly had to put my back to him and clench my eyes and fists shut, talking myself down and fighting back my escalating feeling of inadequacy that always whelmed up inside of me when I thought of how far behind everybody else I was in this department. Especially at this late stage in my life. Didn't anyone get that I could have had sex whenever the Hell I'd wanted? I chose _not _to. I wanted to make love when it felt as though I were doing it for the right reasons, not just to impress anyone else or even to impress myself. I felt someone's hand land on my shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"That was uncalled for." Aki's deep, smooth voice was saying. "Tsuzuki has done nothing wrong in maintaining himself for the right person and the right moment. I dare say when he finally reaches that moment, some bastard out there is going to be extremely lucky."

_And won't he just know it_, I thought, opening my eyes and flashing Aki a look of deep gratitude. He returned it in full and I knew exactly what he was thinking in that moment. He was still hoping that 'lucky bastard' was going to be him. Having seen me after so long was bringing back all those old feelings, for me as well as him. I _had _been in love with him after all and you don't just toss aside feelings of love and never experience them again. For me, being in love had been a huge thing. And still was. But my strongest feelings were standing behind those old lingering pulses I still had for Aki. There were dominant emotions swirling within me and it was a little surprising to realize that in this moment I was experiencing a sensation in equal to what I had for Aki all those years ago. But it was no longer for Aki that my heart raced and my skin reddened and my lips parted for a rushed and excited breath… No more Aki that featured in some of my favorite fantasies, the ones that came to me so unconsciously, that I was immediately and equally ashamed and aroused by.

And in that moment, that single moment when I was staring into the face of the one and only person I had ever loved in a romantic way, that single second, that tiny instant… that was when the whole world changed for me.

I was in love and this new love was so intense that it completely drowned the strong feelings I'd had for Aki.

"I'll go in," I said, my voice breathless and Hisoka was staring at me, eyes wide and I forced his mind back with everything I had. I'd sent off too much emotion in that moment. Been sloppy. No doubt he had experienced these contrary feelings of love I had but wasn't sure exactly who they'd been directed at. He knew it wasn't Aki because I'd been comparing these new feelings to what I had once felt for Aki. But when around Hisoka I barely ever, if rarely, thought about Muraki with his face or name in my mind. This made life very difficult sometimes but it becames an almost unconscious habit when you kicked around with a telepath all the time.

"I'll go in," I repeated, taking a step away from Aki, not bothering to shift into invisibility. With Muraki's abnormal eye he could see us phase into the Second Layer of Reality anyway, so it was pointless to exorcise normal measures of guile. "Give me ten minutes or so and if I'm not out by then… come on in and give it everything you've got. But at least give me the chance to talk him down. To get him to come back to the Ministry of his own accord. To be judged."

"He won't come willingly, Tsuzuki." Hisoka said sullenly and with an almost disabling sense of hopelessness. "He's going to do something to you, if you go in there alone. And he'll do everything he can to kill the rest of us."

I sensed something else was coming and wasn't disappointed.

"Ten minutes… and I _will _be giving it everything I've got." My partner said, hands in his pockets and setting his back against the large tree behind which we had all initially gathered. He refused to meet my eyes. "I just want you to know that…"

_Jesus Christ, _I thought, a great lump forming in my throat, so constricting I virutally couldn't breath until I had forced it down. _Hisoka had an inkling… he didn't know but he suspected in his own mind, without having touched mine, that I felt something for Muraki. Simply by observing me…_

I turned my back on him, hating myself and feeling that great serpent rising up behind me, jaws unhinged and fangs dripping along that great line of black leading back towards oblivion. I could see my face in its' mirror like eyes, reflecting my pain and guilt right back at me.

"I…" There was nothing else to say. Had to play dumb, had no choice. I flashed my bright, trademark smile back over my shoulder. "You nail that bastard for all its' worth. Especially if he's doing ungodly things to me, you got that? Feel free to hit him with anything you can get your hands on and don't stop 'til he's crying like a baby."

This evoked the smallest of smiles from Hisoka and it made the serpent retreat, if only momentarily.

Terazuma held up his watch arm and set the time. "Ya got ten minutes exactly. Then we're coming in." He looked as though he felt sorry about what he'd said before but I turned my back on him and marched off before he had a second to think about apologizing. Screw him if he thought I was going to let him appease his own feelings, not after touching my sore point that way. Ninety-seven years of age and having never taken a lover… I didn't often tell people about it, such was my shame of it sometimes. I'd told Watari because he was my closest friend and even he only teased me about it sparingly. But he'd never used it the way Terazuma had. To actually degrade me. Being a virgin was something I was both ashamed and proud of, in unequal measure, depending on my state of mind at the time it might have been under consideration. I'd had chances to have had sex. Many chances in fact, but I never took a one of them. Why? Because I think I was waiting for something just a little more spectacular. When it wouldn't seem forced. When it was right for me, corny as that sounds. I'd gone without sex for so long that I'd gotten to the stage of my existence where I felt the craving very sparingly. Well, that and the fact that I was also a very old man (if not in appearance, then definitely in mind and disposition) and I had more things to worry about. Like taxes and paying the rent.

Like trying to talk my homicidal boyfriend into walking calmly out of his fiancée's house and into the waiting arms of over a half dozen Guardians of Death that each wanted to tear literal strips off of him. Oh yes, my life was a fucking cakewalk. Why _didn't_ I think about sex more, it wasn't as though I didn't have the time! Jesus.

The front door was open and this was Danger Sign No. 1. Without bothering to knock or wait for an invitation, I ploughed on into the silent and dark house, noticing that most of the curtains were drawn and a couple of newspapers were piled on the doormat. This certainly didn't bode well for dear Ukyou and I sincerely hoped that no harm had befallen her.

I heard some voices coming from the bedroom and a lot of violent scruffling. One of the voices was getting increasingly louder and I recognized Muraki's distinct candor. It sounded as though he were in trouble, or he was causing trouble for someone else. Either way, I suppose it was prudent that I get my cute little butt down that hall as quickly as I could.

I burst up the hallway and dashed towards the sound of the disturbance, catching a glimpse of a familiar figure standing in the doorway of what appeared to be the main bedroom.

_Pandora! _Or Saki, whatever he was calling himself at that particular moment. As I ran to intercept him, a cloud of white feathers suddenly blinded my vision and the boy disappeared behind them, teleporting himself out of the house. I'd barely had time to consider his reasons for doing so, when they hit me, quite literally, square in the chest.

I looked down in astonishment, at the hatchet like meat cleaver, the blade almost entirely entrenched between the lines of my pectorals.

For the love of- How many more injuries could I _possibly _accumulate today? I mean, really! This was just starting to get a little- no, _really _ridiculous.

Unnatural pain coursed through my body, only increasing when I reached up to grasp the brute weapon by the handle and started to slowly ease it free.

"Oh _shit._"

Muraki's visible eye was nearly bulging from his head.

"I didn't do it…" He whispered, obviously referring to the carnal devestation of his fiancée, who I could now see splayed violently on the bed behind him and not the kitchen utensil currently protruding from his boyfriends' chest.. A familiar red sygil was emblazened on the wall above her head; the same mark I had seen above the altar in the Other Place… The same mark Watari was currently investigating.

I gazed into Muraki's horror stricken visage and felt an unfamiliar sensation burgeoning within my chest. My eyes welled a little at this stirring of affection I felt towards the man who had caused me so much grief during the two years we had been associated.

"I know…" I said, wincing at the sticky sensation of blood sliding down my chest beneath my shirt. "Muraki I'm sorry… We ran into some trouble at your place and the other Guardians found out you were here… I'm sorry. We've gotta get you outta here before they see you."

"Mr. Tsuzuki…" His voice was extremely hesitant. "What did I give you as a gift two weeks ago following our trip to the Tokyo Cinema?"

I glared back at him through my streaming eyes. "W-_What?!_"

"Please… just answer the question. What gift did I give you?"

I grunted as fresh pain coursed through my body and shook my right sleeve back in a distracted fashion.

"Whaddya mean 'what did you give me?' This _watch, _remember?"

His entire body relaxed immediately and he was on his feet before I could blink. "So it is you then. Thank goodness, I've had just enough of my fair share of doppelgangers for today, I think."

"Yeah. I saw him…" I murmured, feeling a cold sweat break out on my forehead as Muraki knocked my fingers away from the shaft of the meat cleaver and fasten onto it himself. "Pandora… that kid… he's…" I grasped Muraki's wrist between my own, preventing him from taking any further action until he had heard me out. I looked up into his contrary eyes, forcing his attention back towards my face. "Muraki… he's your brother. Pandora is Saki Shidou. Your brother… right?"

I had never before witnessed such pure strife in Muraki's fine features and it chilled my bones formidably. He looked down upon me as though I had transformed into some manner of grisly horror before his very eyes.

"How… why would you…? Why would…" He paused in order to give himself a moment to adequately compose himself. "_How _could you possibly see the resemblence?"

"Resemblance?" I asked, confused. "I saw… I saw pictures of him at your house…"

"All the pictures containing Saki have been edited… so to speak." Muraki said, his eye narrowing suspiciously at me. "Only those within his own room…" His fingers started to shake, causing the blade of the cleaver to quiver beneath my flesh. "You had no business entering that room, Asato Tsuzuki! It is _not _seen, even by you whom I share such liberties with!"

He ripped the blade clean out of my flesh, sending roaring pain thrashing down through my torso and into my legs. I collapsed, hand pressing down upon the gushing wound, putting all my mental effort towards healing, legs curled up beneath me and working to scurry backwards from Muraki's expression of primal rage. I began to feel as though I were in very serious danger. I had never seen him reduced to quite such animalistic behavior.

"Why did you go in there?!" He roared, advancing on me with the cleaver still dripping my blood in his hand. His knuckles where as pale as the visible whites of his eyes and he stared down at me over the upward tilt of his chin.

Myy heart pounded in my chest. "Muraki… the other Guardians are outside… _please_…"

I could feel his cruelty. And his rage.

Never before had he felt less human to me. And least in control of himself.

I want you to know that I was capable of stopping you at any time. Used my powers, summoned my shikigami. I could have stopped you.

I think it's important for you to know that.

His eyes were very cold and I think that was the most terrifying part for me. Muraki wasn't a cold person in nature. A cruel person, yes. A practical person but never cold. Never expressionless. This face of nothing… it made him completely unpredictable to me. I had no idea what was going to happen next. But I was afraid. Afraid because of those disabling thoughts I had been feeling outside only minutes ago. Afraid because I was bound by those emotions and I wasn't sure I'd be able to protect myself with these limitations in place.

Did you know Muraki has fangs? I kid you not. I had felt them the night before when he had been absorbing my essence and seen them once on the deck of the Queen Camellia. He was a psychic vampire, who absorbed essence most effectually through blood but he wasn't a vampire in the sense that we commonly think of them. No garlic allegy (he'd eaten a garlic dish at the restaurant, so I knew he had no issue in that department) no unholy reaction to a crucifix (his family had been Catholic; I'd seen a mounted cross in his own home) and he could quite comfortably walk around during the daylight hours without turning to ash. The only similarity he had to a true vampire was his bloodless albino white skin and the long sharp fangs that slowly slid down over his lower lip and those in his bottom row of teeth sliding up between them. They weren't traditionally vampire long; (think _Interview with the Vampire_) and you could see no visible difference when he wasn't experiencing bloodlust or excitement. But he was definitely excited at that moment; the white fangs glistened wetly atop his lips; shining with saliva.

He could deliver a double bite with these eye-teeth; four puncture marks instead of one. I had seen him momentarily lose control the night before when he had stabbed me in the neck but even then I had not entirely doubted his presence of mind. I had _felt _Muraki. Felt that he was partly in control; if not entirely.

Now I knew there was nothing. No control, no presence of humanity, no lingering feeling of affection. I became nothing more than a piece of meat to him.

And he was hungry.

Abandoning the cleaver, he grabbed me by the hair, pulled my head back. He smelt my skin. His tongue slid out from between his fangs and glided up my neck.

My eyes shimmered with tears, my body liberally quivered as I felt the rage roll off of him in waves.

"Muraki… there's no time." I whispered, trying to distract him. He jerked my hair roughly, causing pain to shoot through my scalp as the roots were ripped violently. "The others… the others are outside… please get in control…"

A gurgling hiss lilted out of his throat and his fangs parted, the same way a cat made clear its' displeasure. There seemed to be nothing human left of him.

A tiny sliver of impatience speared through me and my heart throbbed as adrenaline flushed my system. "Dammit, get a hold of yourself! We have to go!" I reached up and slapped him hard around the face, trying to jolt him back to reality.

This turned out to be a big mistake.

He struck.

He struck and he held nothing back.

My hand had been coming away from his face and it got between his mouth and my neck. His fangs sank deep, my finger driving up into his mouth so that the eye-teeth punctured below the knuckle, up through the palm and into the fleshy part of my thumb. I screamed, pressing my lips together almost immediately to smother the noise I'd made, as he ground his jaws shut, gnawing through the bones of my hand, lapping urgently at the blood that spilled out from the throbbing puncture marks.

"Muraki… Muraki don't do this." I had to fight around the pain to get a word out and try not to scream again. The ten minutes must surely have been coming to a close. I started sobbing as I thrust my free hand up into his face, slamming the heel into his eyes, nose and chin. "It's me… it's Tsuzuki! Look at me, Muraki. You're hurting me."

One well aimed clout with my hand, forced Muraki to part his lips just enough for me to yank my mauled hand free. I scuttled backwards from him on my butt but he got his arms around me, fingernails tearing through my jacket and into the skin of my back. I brought my knee up against my chest, shielding my wounded hand behind it and keeping Muraki at a safe distance as his drove his face towards me again, howling with fury as I thwarted his attempts to feed.

"Get a hold of yourself!" I shrieked, shoving my foot into his chest to push him back. His hands found the collar of my shirt and the buttons popped open all the way down to the base as he forced the halves apart. His sharp nails tore strips across my chest, flames of pain shearing through my torso as he tried to use my skin as a leverage to work his way back up to me. I continued to scuttle back, using my legs to hold him at bay until my back hit the far wall. It occurred to me that it might have been better not to have struggled, as this would no doubt have only excited him further but my mind was too scrambled to work this out on it's own. As always with Muraki, my first instinct was to fight.

I kicked out as Muraki came at me again and this time he managed to grab a hold of my ankle. I struggled to free myself but he had it yanked to the side before I could act and then he was up between my legs, forcing them apart at the thigh. His teeth sank into my neck; all four of them. I thought he was trying to take a rectangular chunk out of my throat, his violence was so great.

"No!" I sobbed, closing my eyes as I put my healing hand up to his forehead and tried to force his face away. I used all my preternatural strength and I could feel the flesh tearing but Muraki's strength was escalating, from only the small amount of blood he had already taken. He dug the fangs in deeper, like a tic that someone was trying to burn free and his hands fell across my bare stomach as another hunger took hold of him. His fingers fumbled at my belt buckle.

"Honey, no!" I sobbed, using a sweet word because I thought it may have had the same effect on him that it usually had on me. "Baby, don't do this… please don't. Please, please don't… honey, let go of me so I can get you out of he-" One of his hands closed around my neck and choked my protests out.

_Muraki!_ Desperate for oxygen, I abandoned all pretences and sank my nails into his neck and dug in, scratching, tearing and ripping but this only increased his excitement, as I suspected it would. I could feel the proof of his excitement digging into me, as his free hand whipped my belt out of the waistpand of my pants, popping open the button and working the zipper down.

I needed to breathe but there was so much going on. My brain was numb from bloodloss and lack of air. My body was going cold and each attempt I made to dissuade his attentions grew gradually weaker and weaker, until I might as well have been batting him with a paper fan. I felt cool air hit my extremeties as Muraki, through much rearrangement and contortionism, managed to tug my pants and boxer shorts down to my ankles, whilst keeping my body pinned all the while. I drove my fist into his wrist and his hand released my neck, giving me blessed, much needed oxygen, that I inhaled like a man that was not already dead. Muraki's teeth slid out of my neck and he licked the puncture wounds, before rearing back and hoisting my legs up onto his shoulders. I flailed, trying hard to reach him, to twist away as he removed my shoes, enabling my trousers and underwear to be ripped free completely. His own dresspants came down, his underpants with them. He was hard and rigid and ready. I comprehended my own delicate constitution in that moment and realized that if I didn't do something to redirect his intentions, then Terazuma's suggestion may very well have come true. Only it would be _me _being carried out senseless on the sheet. And less myself then I was when I first came into this house.

I needed to divert his attention if I wanted to spare myself, so I gathered my remaining strength and drove my legs down around his shouders until they framed his waist. His hands gripped my hips, preparing to enter me without preparation but with a painful wriggle, and a strange sort of bunny hop on my bottom, I managed to bring myself to my knees and I reached around Muraki, digging my fingernails into the cleft of his firm bottom. I didn't give myself time to be afraid of what I was about to do, to comprehend the fact that I had never done this before and how I wished it could have been under better circumstances. Feeling his nails dig impatiently into my back, drawing blood that his already stained lips worked over, I took a deep breath, held it and dropped my mouth down over his jutting erection.

It was a strange tangy sort of taste. Salty and not unpleasant. The skin of his penis was soft but there was a hard, solid sort of muscle just benenath the taught flesh that drove a strange excitement through me. I was dribbling around the intrusion, saliva sliding down from the corner of my mouth and dripping from my chin as I sucked hard and forcefully, using my teeth when I thought appropriate. I wriggled my fingers into his bottom and forced a few of them into the pucker, trying to make everything as evocative as possible. I could hear him groaning and that for me was the best part of it. But the rest…

I won't lie… I wanted it to end this as soon as possible. I needed it to, before the Guardians burst in and saw us in this position. How ironic would it be to have Hisoka almost stumble onto the situation now, having only narrowly avoiding doing so that very morning!

Muraki was big and full and out of control. He had me by the hair again and he was forcing himself into my throat, nearly choking me again and I was sucking air desperately in through my nose, my head spinning. I hadn't done this before and I already hated it. Giving was nowhere near as fun as receiving. I could barely breathe, I felt uncomfortable, my throat was rubbed raw from the overexcited jabs and his scent and taste cloyed my senses. And when he came, his roar loud and primal, the taste of his semen actually disgusted me and I felt as though something must have been wrong with me. All the romanace novels and stories I'd heard said that the taste of your lover should have been sweet to you. Should have been sexy and you should drink it right down. Muraki had that morning and he seemed to have enjoyed it immensly.

I hated it. It was warm and thick and a little sour and I choked up what he had ejaculated down my throat, trying in vain to swallow but finding it as difficult as swallowing my own vomit would have been. Feeling slightly ashamed and utterly embarrassed, I leaned over and coughed it onto the carpet, tears welling up at the corners of my eyes.

Muraki's hands fell away from my back and his movements stilled, his breathing slightly ragged. I gasped for air, coughing and gasping, tears streaming down my face. A little whimper came out of me.

"Mr. Tsuzuki?" Muraki asked. He seemed to have come back to his senses but his voice trembled with the after effects of his orgasm. "What… happened…?"

I sobbed as means of reply. My whole body was weak and my mind fluttered on and off, tempting me towards unconsciousness. But I didn't faint. I wanted to get dressed but I couldn't move yet and I wasn't sure when I would be able to. The wounds over my neck and chest had closed up but I was still dizzy from the feeding. My throat hurt and I felt battered.

"Muraki…" I finally managed to say. His hands went to my shoulders and he lifted my face up so he could meet my eyes. He looked sincerely distressed. Good for him.

"Did I lose control…?!" He asked with urgency. His fangs had retracted but his lips looked considerably more rosy than they had before. "Darling… did I hurt you more badly than I should have? Did I…"

Relieved to hear his voice, I sank my forehead down against his chest and knitted my fingers into his shirt front, wanting his strength and comfort. I felt his chest contract and his violent inhalation, so I gathered he had noticed our similarly naked states.

"Mr. Tsuzuki! I didn't… tell me I didn't!" He gingerly felt his penis, groaned at the wetness of it. "A waste… the waste of it! Mr. Tsuzuki… forgive me… I didn't… I lost control. Ukyou's been… and that boy, I just… Forgive me." He finished weakly.

I shook my head, letting him gather me up in his arms and soothe back my hair. His fingers went to my bottom and I allowed him to assure himself that I was still innocent. The relief was thick in his voice.

"You don't appear to have been… What happened?" He seemed to be genuinely concerned. "Did I have sex with you?"

I shook my head again. "No. You tried to but I…" I fluttered a hand ineffectually at my mouth. "I just… found another way to stop you."

Muraki sighed with relief, gathering up our clothes and setting to work dressing us both. "Thank goodness…" He kept whispering, fingers stroking up and down my back, grazing through my hair and carressing my face. "Thank goodness."

"Yeah. Thank goodness I'm still a virgin, or else I'd be fucking useless to you." I snapped, impatient and angry. It didn't seem to matter to him that he'd mauled my hand, ripped my throat out and driven me into a situation where I'd been forced to perform a sex act on him that I had never done before. And all he was worried about was whether or not I was still innocent.

"Mr. Tsuzuki… that was insensitive… I'm sorry…" He slipped my shoes back on for me, one at a time. "But Ukyou is… I can't get my head together…"

My eyes fell on the bed, where I could feel a gentle aura emanating. "Forget it… listen we don't have much time… she needs to be taken to a hospital…"

"It's too late for that," He hissed and I was startled to see tears rolling heavily down from that silver eye. "She's gone… there's no pulse…"

I checked again and sure enough, a very pale aura registered within my senses. "No." I insisted, pulling myself up on my knees. "Her pulse has stopped but her lifeforce hasn't departed the body yet. It's very weak… she needs to be revived immediately if she's to be saved. You know CPR right?"

Muraki stared as though seeing me for the first time. The harsh lines of his face began to smooth out, much to my great relief. "You… you're positive…?"

I nodded vigarously. "I'm never wrong about these things, Muraki! It's part of the job description! But you'd better do it fast because the other Guardians are waiting outside and their hot for your blood. They expect me to be out there with you any minute now, or they'll come screaming through the door!"

Muraki didn't waste another second. Releasing my foot (which fell to the floor with a large and painful thunk) he raced over to where Ukyou lay spreadeagled across the sheets and gently tilted her head into a lateral position, allowing the excess fluid to drain free and her tongue to fall forwards. Using his index finger, he swabbed the inside of her mouth to check for any foreign bodies that may have constricted her airways. With his spare hand he gestured towards me urgently.

"I'll need you to perform the cardiac compressions, whilst I administer expired air resuscitation." He stated, ushering me over to stand on the other side of the bed. "You _do _know how to perform ECC right?" He asked, suspicious no doubt on account of my offensively blank expression.

I thought back to the cardiopulmonary resuscitation course the Summons Section agents had all been required to undertake. Watari's proud and happy voice rang clear in my memory, accomponied by the image of him standing at the head of the staff room, index finger raised high in the air.

"_External cardiac compressions should be applied as soon as possible; granted the airways are satisfactorily cleared. It allows oxygen to reach the vital organs, such as the brain and heart, which prevents brain damage and eventual death. This is done by compressing the casualities heart between the breastbone and the spine, which artificially pumps the blood into the major arteries of the body…"_

"You… might have to talk me through it…" I said, shamefaced. Muraki flashed me a single second look of exasperation but he didn't berate me, for which I was grateful.

"All right… pay close attention." I had never seen the brutish doctor so deliberately serious. "I need you to place the index finger of your right hand at the top of her breastbone; just here." He quickly tapped the area where I was intended to apply my attentions. "Now, place the index finger of your left hand at the bottom of her breastbone, where the ribs join. Just here." Another guiding tap, directing me forward. "Keep both index fingers in position and use your thumbs to divide the breastbone. Yes, like that. Now, leave your left hand index finger and thumb in place and put the heel of your right hand between them. Right, now set your left hand over the right and interlock your fingers. Keep your arms straight and use only the heels of your hands to begin compressions. Depress the chestbone about five centimeters."

This was difficult to estimate but I did the best I could and Muraki seemed satisfied by my effort. Extremely hasseled but satisfied.

"Perfect. Now relax and take your weight off of your hands. This will allow the chest to expand properly. I'm going to begin the mouth-to-mouth. I'll need you to count out the five compressions and then I'll breathe."

I nodded vigorously and applied five swift chest compressions, sounding them out as I did. Following the fifth compression, Muraki tilted Ukyou's jaw back, one hand beneath her chin the other on her forehead. Ensuring that her mouth was only slightly open, he took a deep breath and placed his parted lips over hers, sealing the spaces between them tightly. His cheek was pressed up against her nose, to prevent air from escaping. I felt her chest rise beneath my hands as he exhaled deeply, causing her lungs to fill. He gave five full breaths within a ten second span.

"Compressions, now." He commanded as he came up for air. I quickly displaced five chest compressions and in rhythm Muraki expelled his own breath into the lungs of his fiancée; a human being whom he was trying to save. I'm not sure he considered the irony… he would have even spared a moment for it and that was the most telling aspect of all.

After thirty or so repititions of cardiopulmonary resuscitation's, Muraki suddenly withdrew his mouth from Ukyou's.

"Ukyou…" He whispered, fingers pressed against the cardio pulse in her neck. I elicited a delighted gasp as I felt her chest begin to rise and fall beneath my hands. I could sense her aura start to flare back into a dominance, though it was still terribly weak.

"Muraki… we really should get her to the hospital. Is there a back door to this place? We can sneak you out with her and-" I trailed off when I caught sight of the strange look he was giving me. "What's up…? Why are you staring at me like that?"

He didn't take his eye off of me, even as he wrapped Ukyou up in the blanket upon which she lay and hoisted her into his arms.

"Mr. Tsuzuki… how did you know?"

"How did I know what?" I asked distractedly, peering out through a gap in the curtains. I could see Saya and Hisoka down around the side of the house but none of the others were in my line of sight. I could only hope that the back entrance was being currently neglected…

"How did you know that I didn't do this?" He gestured gently with Ukyou as though I could possibly miss what 'this' was. I looked at him, puzzled.

"What do you mean, 'how do I know'?" I asked, snatching the cleaver up off of the carpet and tucking it into the waistband of my pants. The blade rested cool against the skin of my thigh. "I just know… I know you didn't do this…" I reached over and clutched at his upper arm. "Come on… I've got to get the two of you out of here…"

"You would… defy your friends and colleagues… to help me?"

"I just said so, didn't I?" I was starting to get impatient. "I care about you, Muraki… and I want to help Ukyou too." I grasped his wrist and looked up urgently into his face. "Please don't fight me, don't interragate me… let's just get out of here, okay?"

His lips landed soft and cool against my forehead and then his chin carressed the same area as he pressed himself as close to me as possible, whilst holding Ukyou.

"I love you," He whispered. I slipped my hand up and slunk it around his neck, trailing my fingers down over his thundering pulse. My cheek was pressed against the only part of his chest that I could reach and his heart beat steadily into my temple.

"I love you too."

I'd never said it before and I might have even imagined it then, my voice was so feathery. But there was no doubting that Muraki had heard it. He jerked away from me, lower lip awning open and his arms falling so limp that he nearly upended poor Ukyou on the floor. I dashed forward and swept my arm underneath her.

"Careful…" I cautioned. I could feel Muraki's eyes burning into my forehead, as though he were trying to sense the truth of my words by peering directly into my mind.

"Do you, Mr. Tsuzuki?" His lips came back together and his expression relaxed so that it returned to that cool, unconcerned façade he was so comfortable with. But there was something in his face; he held it deliberately poised, as if to restrain a more insistent emotion pushing urgently to free itself.

I gently clasped my fist around the arm of Muraki's shirt and lowered my eyes. His gaze was so intense, I couldn't bring myself to meet it.

"Yes I do," I said, goosebumps breaking across my flesh. "Since you disappeared after Kyoto… I kept thinking about you." I remembered Wakaba's words, her feelings for Tatsumi and how they constantly lingered, no matter how hard she tried to ignore them. "You were always there, always in my head… and whenever I thought of you, you made me feel as though… I'm worth a little more than I ever thought I could be. You made me believe in myself, all because you could tell me to my face that I was beautiful." My heart thudded urgently against my chest and I could feel a strange burgeoning excitement swelling up within me; the same feeling I usually got after surviving a harrowing situation. Adrenaline. The sense that I was engaging in some daring act, something that would dramatically change me life the second it began. Cold and hot flushes pulsed through my skin as I reached up and nursed my cheek against his, my lips soft against his ear. "Being with you is so painful… because it makes me happy. And I know we can never have a normal relationship. The things you have done are too terrible and I'm no saint either. I want nothing more than to be able to put my arms around you and whisper all the sweet things I want to say but I know that's not going to happen because I can never entirely relax around you. I want to be able to grow old with you but that's not going to happen either. And I want to be able to love you without any inhibitions; to know that I can trust you and talk to you and be proud of what I feel for you but I can't have that either! We can never have what anyone else would expect out of a relationship… maybe we can't ever truly be happy. But you've been trying so hard… you haven't hurt anyone, or killed anyone… you've done exactly as I've asked and I've given you so little in return." He slid his cheek up against mine, breath warm against my skin. "I can't justify my feelings for you. Nothing I can say will make it right. But I do love you. And I know you love me. And the fact that I can never trust you, makes me all the more wild for every little touch, every kiss… that I'll still want to escape from you the moment we make love. I'm crazy for that, Muraki. To be your victim, for ever after."

"So, where do we go with this?" Muraki asked. He sounded breathless and his cheeks were slightly pink. My body was aching with my sudden, palpable want of him. I was so excited my body was trembling all over but I hadn't made it this far by being a weak man.

So instead of acting out all those wanton desires, I put my arm around his neck and squeezed him briefly. "Wherever it takes us." I replied and I lay my lips against the side of his face. "I'm preparing to meet you half way… but I need you to keep trying for me. Not to hurt anyone else. You do and I walk; no argument."

"Of course." He said and he returned the kiss to my temple. "Mr. Tsuzuki… we'll talk about this later. I look forward to it with great anticipation." He smiled at me in that familiar teasing manner I was so accustomed to. "But for now… we should get out of here. The sooner we get Ukyou to the hospital the better."

"That's a very good point…" I said, a plan of action forming in my mind. I whipped my phone out of my pocket and quickly punched in a number.

Ichibana picked up after the fourth ring.

"- and only light on ze 'eat or ze sauce vill separate. Ye don't vant ze skin ta wrinkle. Ah, _guttentaag _again, Tsuzuki. Sorry 'bout that maat, just tellin' these bozo's 'ow ta make a decent chicken dish. Ye Japs _never _cook yer food long enough. Yer so impatient… Anyway, what can I do fer ye? More beastie trouble?"

"Actually, I'm in Nagoya now. I'm with Muraki." I explained, casting another nervous glance out the window. Hisoka was no longer standing near the front… had he doubled around the back way?

"And ye want me ta come film the momentous occasion fer pure posterity purposes?" The djinni enquired in a cheeky tone. I felt my face redden.

"No, of course not! I'm in a bit of a pinch though."

"For a change."

"You don't have to tell me. Listen… could you please come here and lend me a hand?"

Ichibana mused on this for a moment.

"Well…" He drawled. "It's not really in my parameters to follow an order from ye, baby doll. Blondie's the one done got the collar round me neck after all."

Cold sweat was quite literally beading on my neck as I slammed the bedroom door shut and braced my shoulder against it. Couldn't be too careful.

"I'm not giving you an order!" I explained, exasperated. Muraki looked a mixture of quietly amused and concerned, in a rather dignified sort of way. "I'm asking you as a friend… please, I wouldn't even think of asking for your help again if it wasn't an emergency!"

"I dare say, I think ye would." Ichibana stated but didn't seemed annoyed in the least. "A'right. I'll lend ye me resources. Be over in a jiffy." He paused, considering what he'd just said. "What do ye 'umans mean by that, anyway? People always seem ta be 'comin' back in a jiffy'… Do ye suppose it's some kind of lingerie?"

I tried not to grind my teeth too loudly. "For the love of God, Ichibana! It means quite literally, a second. And quite literally, I need you here in a second! _Please!_" I remembered he didn't have to do this for me, so I tried not to exorcise too much authority for fear he might tell me exactly where I could stick it.

"Christ almighty, would ye lax out a bit?" The djinni said coolly. "Bad 'nough I gotta put up with Blondie snappin' at me if I so much as sniff, without ye hoppin' on the bad turn bandwagon and given' me what for! I'm in a delicate condition and I've already stretched myself thin today. Last thing I need's undue stress."

"I'm not stressed!" I screamed down the phone. "And what do you mean 'delicate'? No offense Ichibana but you're about as delicate as a bull elephant!"

"I certainly hope that's not a thinly veiled back handed comment concerning my weight!" Ichibana snapped back, tartly. "By delicate I mean pregnant! That would be where all the extra cushioning's coming from, _dummkopf!_"

I nearly dropped the phone. "You're pregnant!?" I squealed, my voice stretching out into a sustained soprano pitch. "How the fuck did _that _happen?"

"Well… the fuck was for the most part responsible. Ye answered yer own question, maat." I could just see the djinni rolling his eyes. "_Mein gott_, I mean, I know you're inexperienced and all that but I guess I kinda took fer granted that ye knew where babies came from."

My face flushed all the way down to the lobes of my ears, which amused Muraki to no end.

"Babies come from _women_!" I growled, taking another peek out the window. Hisoka was back beside Saya again but he was pointing at his watch and gesturing urgently towards the house. We didn't have much time. "You're not a woman!"

"No, I am djinni." He explained carefully, as though educating a particularly dimwitted child. "And djinni are quite lovely in that we are sexually superior. Androgynous, in our natural state, we can adopt either male or female genita-look, that ain't the point. The point is, I'm pregnant. _Pregnant. _Which means I ain't just watchin' out fer me own skin anymore, y'know?"

"I understand… Ichibana, it's okay. If I'd known…"

BAMPF.

Ichibana had appeared in front of me and he was hanging up the phone and slipping it into his pocket. "I'll help ya out, maat." He said, waving my protests away with an empress like gesture. "I just wanted ya te know that I gotta take it easy. Specially after all the excitement of this mornin'. Hey now." He went towards Muraki, hand outstretched. "Ye must be Mad-Eye. Nice ta meet ya, toots."

Muraki loosed one arm from around Ukyou's still form to give the djinni's hand a perfunctory shake. He looked thoroughly astonished that anyone could refer to him as 'toots.'

"Pleasure." The doctor said. And I wagered it was from the way that his visible eye roved up and down the djinni's figure. "And you are?"

"Names Ichibana of the Jann." Said the djinni, thrusting his thumb up against his chest. "Currently in the service of one blondie; Yutaka Watari." He fluttered his eyelashes temptingly at Muraki. "Ye know, it's like I always said. All the good ones are either taken, homicidal maniacs or hard fer Tsuzuki… djinni can't catch a break round 'ere."

"I don't think you've ever said that," I mumbled, hanging my own phone and slipping it away. "So… 'bout this favor…"

Ichibana was sniffing the air, distracted.

"Smells like death and sex in 'ere." He murmured, pointed ears twitching slightly. "Two things I done norm'ly like but…" His eyes fell on me and though outwardly calm, something seemed to be stirring inside. "Yer favor, doll?"

"See this woman?" I gestured to Muraki to come forwards with Ukyou still swathed protectively in his arm. She seemed to be stirring slightly, her fingers twitching against his shirtfront. "We need you to take her."

The djinni's face lit up. "All right, free girls!" Though about the same size as Ukyou, he managed to capably transfer her weight into his arms and hold her as though she weighed barely a thing. He beamed around at us. "And it ain't even my birthday. What's the special occasion?"

"She's my fiancée." Muraki growled, his eye narrowing with deep dislike. "And she's already been through Hell enough, do don't try anything funny."

Ichibana sneered back at him. "As if I would. I don't get me jollies the way _some _do."

Muraki scowled and took a step towards the djinni, who though pregnant didn't back off. I got between them, hands extended because they looked like they were about to launch themselves at one another. "Enough." I insisted, giving them both a stern look. "Ichibana; I'd be very grateful if you could take Ukyou to the hospital. She needs to be treated urgently."

"What happened t' er?" The djinni asked, looking down into Ukyou's slumbering features and then, almost as though it had just occurred to him to do so, gazed up to take in the blood painted sygil. His pupils dilated; entire body stiffening. "That… bastard." He spat, spotting the same connection that I had. "But what's she got ta do with this…?"

I put my hand on the djinni's shoulder. "That, we have to figure out later. But right now, she needs immediate attention."

"Right!" The djinni enthused, looking enthusiastic and obedient. "Any hospital in particular?"

"Tokyo General Hospital." Muraki said, who was picking something off of the stained bedsheets upon which Ukyou had been lying. Whatever it was, he pocketed it between the folds of his white, neatly creased handkerchief. "Once I return, I'll tend to her myself."

The djinni nodded and then remained in place, looking back and forth between us as though awaiting additional orders. I blinked back at him, equally clueless.

"The polar caps are melting…" Muraki remarked after this dragged on for a minute or so.

Ichibana glared at him from the corner of his eye but thankfully didn't give him cheek. "Is that all ye called me up fer?"

I nodded, concerned. "I would have done it myself but… I gotta help Muraki… Sorry to inconvenience you."

"Never an inconvenience fer you and certainly not an inconvenience ta help a lady." The djinni insisted. He turned to Muraki, red eyes flashing slightly. "_Doktor_, I'll help ye 'cos o' my doll 'ere, Mad-Eye but I 'ear ye made more trouble for him… ye 'urt 'im in any way 'e don't like… I'll do in a day the job these Ministry Bozo's couldn't do in two years. _Capishe?_"

If anyone else had spoken to Muraki this way, I would have questioned their sanity and will to live until the next day. But having seen Ichibana's powers demonstrated only hours earlier, I didn't doubt that he could give Muraki a definite run for his money. If anything.

I expected Muraki to laugh, or sneer at least but to his credit the doctor only nodded congenially. "And I would certainly deserve it, djinni." He dipped his chin down in a stout bow. "I would thankyou to take good care of my fiancée."

Ichibana smiled and gave a little mock salute before spinning int a mid air spiral, that sucked both him and Ukyou into the transfigural vortex. I turned to Muraki with an urgent expression.

"For future reference, try and be nicer to Ichibana. He may not look it but he's really quite strong. If you're nice to him, he'll be a good friend."

Muraki seemed severely unimpressed. "He's Mr. Watari's summons then?"

"Not exactly… Suzaku is a summons, whereas Ichibana is a djinni. And Ichibana would never say it out loud, but when it comes to Watari he's loyal to a fault. Think he'd walk across broken glass if Watari asked him to. … Not without comlaining mind."

"Is Ukyou in good hands?" Muraki asked worriedly. I put my hand gently on his inside elbow.

"The best. And I'm sure he would brag about it as well. …Now, we'd best hurry ourselves. I'll need to draw a little blood."

Muraki didn't hesitate. Drawing his sleeve up, he used his sharp nails to serrate the pale skin of his wrist, drawing a few drops of blood. He held it out for my inspection.

"Is this enough?"

I whipped a fuda out of my pocket. "That's perfect." I said, swiping the face of the paper over the graze, imbedding Muraki's essence. I used my fingernail to write the spell symbols across the blank surface, muttering the verbal instructions as I did. When I'd finished, I turned my face back up towards Muraki's.

"I'm using this fuda to create an illusion. I'll use it to draw the other Guardians away, that'll give you time to escape in the car."

Muraki stared at me for a very, very long time.

"What?"

"If we were concerned with getting me out of here as soon as possible, couldn't I have gone with your friend the djinni?" He said, gesturing at the empty place Ichibana had previously occupied. "Or better yet; why can't I just teleport out of here with you?"

"Because side-by-side teleportion is impossible for Guardians!" I snapped, hands on my hips. "And Ichibana has already done enough for me today! Teleportation is physically draining and he's pregnant! Besides…" I added bashfully. "I thought you wouldn't want to leave your car here."

"I can't believe you're going to all this trouble for me." Muraki's smile made my heart loop but I tried not to let it show. I may have admitted a few things to him but damned if I would make life easy for him, just because he knew how strong my feelings were!

"Don't be so presumptious." I said, sticking my nose in the air. "I'm saving my own butt too, don't forget. You're not the only one with his hand caught in the cookie jar at the moment."

Muraki chuckled, his hand working a circle into my lower back. "Getting hold of the sweeter things in life is always the most challenging. And the most fraught with danger." He said, wearily, as though this were a game he wished were long over. "I soon grow tired of all this skulking about."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid you'll just have to skulk about for a little while longer." I established insensitively, hurling the fuda into the air and uttering the complex construction spell. As the paper returned to face height, it lit up and from it formed an illusion that was identical to Muraki in every way. Except there appeared to be nothing going on behind the eyes.

"Handsome fellow." Muraki remarked, walking in a circle around his doppelganger. "But I doubt our friends outside are going to be fooled by him. They know your abilities after all. And it doesn't have much of a personality does it?"

"All it has to do is run." I explained, running my hand up the back of Muraki's neck and teasing the longer strands of hair between my fingers. "If the others chase it long enough, you'll have enough time to get to your car and take off. And then I'll… well, I guess I'll just wing it." I finished uncertainly, sliding a second fuda out of my inside jacket pocket and trawling my finger across it a second time, reciting the animation mantra. When the symbols had been sufficiently enfused, I held it up to the Doppelganger's face and brought it down before its blank expression, causing the eyes to flicker as it acquired a direct connection to me, that would enable me some control over its' actions. I hadn't done this particular spell very often; something about it just didn't sit right with me morally. Usually I would use the doppelganger as a symbol, to represent rather than to act. But I hadn't exactly been at my moral best during those times, so this was hardly another notch on my bad vibes belt.

"You contain the essence of Kazutaka Muraki," I told the double, the eye of which had come to focus on me with an astute obedience I know the true Muraki would never show. "Act as he would but in no way whatsoever, will you harm those that pursue you. Lure them to the West. Your duration time is… ten minutes." After the duration time of a spell elapsed, the spell effect would disperse and the other Guardians would realize they had been tricked and return to Ukyou's house. I was counting on them to assume that it was Muraki responsible for this little piece of skullduggery. I figured ten minutes would get them far away enough and Muraki would be driving off in the opposite direction. "Are my instructions clear?"

The doppelganger nodded and the true Muraki turned to me with a raised brow, quite obviously amused and strangely pleased by the compliance of his double.

"Well, well, well… I can't say it's entirely unappealing to see you command me in such a manner, Mr. Tsuzuki. Perhaps one day you shall speak to me as such." He mused, with a thoughtful deviance. I ignored him and directed the double towards the window.

"Go now." I instructed and reached out to tug the window open. "Move fast. Behave as Kazutaka Muraki would!"

The doppelganger shot out the window and vaulted high into the air, white coat flapping around his body like the wings of an overgrown dove. I heard a startled cry herald his appearance almost immediately.

"There he is!" Saya's voice and then a formidable displacement of energy as she shot a spell at the airborn doppelganger. Muraki's brows shot up into his forehead.

"They're certainly not holding anything back, are they?" He observed, seeming rather pleased that he had not made his exit without this distraction. I looked over my shoulder at him, staying out of sight from the window.

"Gee, I wonder why?"

He smirked deviously at me.

"Come play, Guardians!" The doppelganger was taunting, sounding every bit like the Muraki from which its' essence had been drawn. Another large displacement of force and the double was laughing. "That's all you have, boy? Memories of that night bringing out the tender side of you? I didn't know you cared…"

"He's running! The cowardly piece of shit is takin' off!" Terazuma. Furious, for a change. "Tsuzuki?! Where the Hell are you?!"

"He must still be inside!" Hisoka this time and he sounded panicked. "I knew he'd do something to him if he went in alone! I'll go check on him!"

"Like Hell you will! We need your offensive skills, kid!" Terazuma's voice was loud, bossy and undeniably persuasive. He may have been a pain in the ass but he knew how to best interpret a bad situation. "We've gotta contain him before he gets away and I need your skills to do it! He hasn't got Tsuzuki, so he's still inside the house! He'll be fine until we've got this psycho under control! Now shift your ass, he's heading West!"

"Come on," I ordered, grabbing Muraki around the wrist and leading him out of the blood splattered room and into the hallway, tugging him impatiently along behind me. In the living room, I risked a glance out the window and I could see my fellow Guardians already diminished to faint shapes in the distance, spell discharge lighting the sky. It was a secluded area fortunately, with not many people around for miles and I'd had the foresight to send the doppelganger inland; where there were no dwellings.

"Let's get going." I said, turning around to usher Muraki out the back door and found myself wrapped up in his arms, his cool lips upon mine. I surrendered for a moment, pressing the palms of my hands against his cheeks and closing my eyes, enjoying the unfamiliar intimacy.

"Thankyou." Muraki said as we separated and for the first time I saw the sincerity of his gratitude in his eye. This was a first. Muraki's emotions never ever seemed to reach his eyes. I was touched. "After… everything… you know…"

I realized he was ashamed of his loss of control in the bedroom and this was not the limit of his responsibility towards me. He had done a lot to me. He knew that. He was grateful that I was a better person than he was.

I stroked his face and ran my fingers down over his lips, giving him a small smile. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.

"Come on," I finally said, taking his hand in mine and leading him towards the rear of the house. There would be time to talk later. Who knew how long? The future seemed so broad to me now and for the first time in my life, I looked towards it with a genuinely positive perspective. Things were changing. And I was part of that change for once.

I swung open the back door and Muraki and I embraced briefly beneath the frame, bathed in the failing light of the afternoon.

"I have to stay here. I'll come see you later. Tonight." I promised and as our eyes met, I couldn't stall the little sliver of excitement that ran through me. "But first… when you get home, I have to warn you. There was a man there. A man in a blue coat who chased me with a cleaver. His name is Okiko Haruhi."

"Okiko Haruhi?" A crease formed between the lines of Muraki's brow. "He's a lodger… from one of the Guest wings of the manor. I met him this morning." He gripped my shoulders tightly. "You say he attacked you?"

I nodded. "Yeah… he was there with this angel; a necromancer. Haruhi killed the Blank Faced Specters you set in place there." Muraki groaned, apparently appalled. "He said… well, I'll explain it later. My point is, when you get home, throw up every defense you possibly can. If that guy _is _a true lodger, then you've got to get him out of the grounds ASAP. He's not _just _a cleaver-weilding maniac, though you'd think that would be enough, wouldn't you? He has Paranormal powers and something inside of him called a Popo Bawa that shares his body, the same way Saagatanasu shared mine." No, not quite the same. Their relationship appeared to be based upon a more equalized partnership, whereas Saagatanasu had taken control of my body and consciousness entirely.

"Saagatana-who? Wait… did you say _Popo Bawa?_" Muraki looked horrified. "Are you positive that's what's inside of him?"

I nodded, wincing as he clenched my arms a little too tightly. "Yeah, that's right. Ease up, that hurts." He relaxed his grip a little but his face remained deeply troubled. "But that's not all. I don't know about the Popo Bawa but I found out only recently that Okiko Haruhi was Watari's godfather and he… well, he kidnapped and raped Watari and his older sister when they were children." Muraki continued to look more and more troubled.

"When they were children?" He whispered.

"He was a pedophile." The words from Muraki's manor suddenly spun through my mind for some reason. _Suffer the Children to come unto me. _"Come to think of it… that's probably why the Popo Bawa came to him in the first place… anyway, put the protections around your manor again. But no stupid monsters or spectars or creepy snake eyed ghouls, okay?"

He looked at me oddly.

"I only set in place the Blank Faced Spectars." He established, eyebrows creasing down even further. "There were no other creatures… I haven't the power for anything too elaborate. Not at the moment, anyway. Especially not… snake eyed ghouls." He finished with a funny sort of grimace. My body flushed cold.

"Yes. Well, someone else was having quite the party whilst you were out of the state." I established, feeling exhaustion finally start to creep over me. I had sustained a lot of injuries that day, done a lot of running around and lost a lot of blood. I needed to rest quite badly. "Just… do me a favor and put up some better protection around your joint, okay? You should have enough of my essence now to lend you a hand."

"Mr. Tsuzuki… how kind of you to concern yourself with my safety." Muraki purred, running his fingers along the side of my face as he leered at me. I knocked his fingers away impatiently.

"Kind, nothing! I'm worred about getting beat up again the next time I drop by! Now get going. It's been a long day and I won't be able to relax until I see your tail-lights at the far end of the road."

He nodded and swiftly brushed his mouth against mine. "Come see me tonight?"

"I said I would." I replied gruffly, giving him a little push in the shoulders. "Go on. My spell won't hold much longer."

Muraki turned and stepped down over the the stoop onto the gravel pathway below. I was just starting to relax, when I registered something move from beneath my line of sight. Where the light hit the window sill to the left of Muraki's head, a shadow had formed across the ground, arching towards the doctors foot. I saw it significantly twitch.

"NO!" I screamed as the darkness broke open.

From stem to stern, Muraki's torso tore in two and something erupted up and out through the blood that gushed hot and wet from the grisly wound. A black blade, larger than a man and entirely intangible, made of smoke or shade rather than true steel. It had punctured through Muraki's ribcage, sending shards of bone catapaulting into the wall behind him. The red of his blood was so bright… it seared against my flesh and soaked my body in a whiplash, right down the center of my chest. The trail curved up my face, blotted out one eye and every blink dripped tears of crimson.

Muraki's face showed only the barest hint of pain and then relaxed as he turned to meet my eyes, with an expression that simply said that he had expected no less.

His mouth formed my name. His face suddenly contorted and his mouth jerked open like a ventriloquest dummies, a spurt of blood gushing out. He was dying; dying again, blood dribbling down his chin, blood pooling around his body as he collapsed to the ground, the whisp of blade sliding haphazardly out of his body. Like a barbed hook, inserted beneath skin, it tore him anew, serrating his flesh, squirting blood in the reverse pattern across the door through which we had just left.

Muraki looked up at me, hands squeezed tight about his center and a very slight smile managing to peel open across his lips. Though normally pale, the soft columns were now stained pink from the steady river of vitae that oozed down from deep beneath his throat.

I had seen this all before; the very same image I had met face to face with in the depths of the University of Kyoto. But it was not I that had struck this blow of death, not I that wished him die beneath my hand, not now, not now, no… couldn't be now…

Tatsumi… one hand extended, commanding the shadow came forth from where the evening sun hit the archway of the door. His skin pale, sweat streaming down his extremeties and eyes half lidded. Bandages whipped around his body though there was no wind. Wakaba was standing behind him, her eyes tearing and one delicate hand quavering over her mouth.

"No…" I barely heard the word come out of my mouth. "Muraki…"

His one true eye had gone as glassy as the mechanical orb in his right socket and though the world had surely ended, the ghost of a smile lingered on his face, the memory of my love divulged unsurpassed, even in the passing of life itself.

_**-EC-**_

**1: **A quote by Saint Augustine in the Latin, intended to deny an illusion. " _Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe."_

**2: (Aki's Spell translation, also in the Latin) **"Hold it in, hold it tight. Contain! Contain!"

**3: Kunoichi: **Female Ninja. Lured their victims by means of trickery and seduction, very much like a djinni.

**4: **Yes, this was indeed a Red Vs Blue reference.

**-EC-**

**Watari: **Hey, Muraki's dead! All right! This is the best Halloween present a guy could ever ask for!

**Muraki:** Oh, shut up you little zealot. Is it any wonder your godfather wants to cut you into tiny bits with a cleaver?

**Watari:** … That's not half as funny as you dying.

**Muraki:** My dying isn't funny! And I'm not dead! … Least I don't think I'm dead. Wouldn't make much sense considering the next chapter is the MuTsu lemon. Finally.

**Count:** It could be a double whammy of necrophilia loving, if you know what I mean…?

**Tsuzuki:** Oh gross. Like having sex with Muraki isn't going to be bad enough without those sorts of images, Count.

**Muraki:** (curtly) I beg your pardon but… what was that remark about making love with me being bad?

**Hickock: **(Quickly) Whoo boy, was _that _a long chapter! And so revealing too!

**Tsuzuki: **WAAAH, NaPap! You're turning me into a slut-bunny!

**Hickock: **I most certainly am not! And my name is Hickock now! No more NaPap!

**Watari: **Well… only one more update now and you'll have to bid farewell to your chastity status forever, Tsuzuki!

**Tsuzuki:** I don't wanna! I'm scared!

**Oriya: **Now, now, there's no reason to be scared. (Pats Tsuzuki comfortingly on the back) Giving yourself to someone for the first time can be at the same time frightening and exciting but if you give yourself over to it, then I'm sure you'll find that it's not nearly as terrifying as you think. I mean, Yutaka threw himself right into it with me and it was _his_ first time.

**All:** (Snort with laughter)

**Oriya:** (Oblivious) What?

**Count:** Um… considering that statement couldn't possibly be less true, how do you suppose he had a daughter without having had sex before?

**Oriya:** … It's amazing what science can do these days.

**Watari:** Yeah! I'm a pure person through and through! So you got no reason to be worried Tsuzuki! It's perfectly all right to wait for the right person.

**Tsuzuki:** Like you did with Oriya?

**All:** (Stifle laughter into various office supplies)

**Watari: **… (Looks as though he is going to say something but then stops and falls into silence again) …. Um… (Thinks some more) … Yes.

**Oriya:** (Smiles obliviously as he pats Watari's head) There, you see, Mr. Tsuzuki? What do you have to lose besides your virginity? It's time to say goodbye to Mr. Hymen.

**Muraki: **You're killing my accountant?!

**All: **…

**Tatsumi:** Not to quibble, Hickock but that joke was totally wasted considering that Tsuzuki is a boy and doesn't actually _have _a hymen.

**Hickock:** Oh shut up. You didn't even realize that Wakaba was in love with you!

**Tatsumi:** Well Tsuzuki didn't realize I was in love with _him!_

**Count: **He doesn't realize I'm in love with him either.

**All:** (Repeat of the smothered laughter)

**Count:** Genuinely confused) I say… what's so funny?

**Tsuzuki: **You're all disgusting, sex obsessed people! I'm making a push for sustained chastity and will fight for the right of hand holding over ass grabbing!

**Muraki:** Dear God in Heaven, NO!

**Konoe: **Bravo, Tsuzuki! You've finally got your head on straight.

**Tatsumi:** Chief? When did you turn up?

**Saki:** (Proudly) I've got _my _head on straight.

**Oriya:** Yes… I still wonder about that…

**Konoe:** Though I've got to say… this is certainly a damn sight removed from that case you took on with the dancing girl… what was her name…?

**Tsuzuki:** Oh, who remembers anymore?

**Hisoka:** Her name was Hisae.

**Tsuzuki:** (Jumps) Mother-fu--!

**Watari:** Hurray! The whole gangs here! ♥

**Konoe:** That's right… Hisae. Remember I told you back then that we discourage our Guardians from Hanky panky?

**Oriya:** (Snorts with laughter) _Hanky-panky?_

**Tatsumi: **That seems to be no problem, boss because if we're to go by what I've heard today, everyone here is still a virgin.

**Muraki:** (Looking at Tsuzuki) What's this about some dancing girl?

**Tsuzuki:** (Staring off into the distance dreamily) _Lit from within and by spotlight the eastern rose of Eden, dressed in white dances-_

**Muraki: **Stop that happy singing at once you little tart! How _dare _you fool around with some girl and then profess to love me! Why I should shave you bald and leave you out in the cold!

**Tsuzuki:** (Snaps back to reality) Excuse _me _but this was back before I even looked at you in a slightly romantic fashion! Back when you were a horrible murderous rampaging maniac, if I remember correctly. (Quickly) And it didn't happen!

**Hisoka:** Yes it did. You were swooning about for weeks afterwards, you silly old man!

**Saki:** Weren't you supposed to be gay, Tsuzuki?

**Tsuzuki:** Oh, who knows what they are in this genre?

**Muraki:** Where is this girl?! I will find her and destroy her!

**Tsuzuki:** She's already dead, so I wouldn't bother. And don't go giving me that look! (Nuzzles up to Muraki) It was just that one subplot… she meant nothing to me after the Saagatanasu arc.

**Muraki:** Oh yes, now _where _have I heard _that _before?

**Watari:** (Reassuringly) Just so you know, Oriya… I've never had it off with a dancing girl.

**Oriya:** Of course not. And even if anyone told me you had, I would stalwartly refuse to believe them.

**Tsuzuki:** Thanks a lot Mr. Konoe! Now look what you've done! And it's not like you can talk, chasing after that Akemi woman of Oriya's later in the story!

**Hickock:** (Urgently) The plot, Tsuzuki! Think of the plot you're ruining!

**Konoe:** (Ignorning her) I don't think a man who's currently dating a psychotic maniac-

**Muraki:** _Former _psychotic maniac. I'm taking classes.

**Konoe: - **has any right to lecture me about who I may or may not have relations with.

**Watari:** Are we talking about Ms. Aisubi?! You dirty old man! Having it off with a woman half your age-

**Konoe:** You can't talk! … Not that Oriya is a woman mind…

**Oriya:** (Still happily oblivious. What is he smoking today I wonder?)

**Muraki:** It's marijuana.

**Oriya:** No, it's an aromatic herb. Marijuana gives me leg tremors.

(All glance down at Oriya's nervously twitching leg and then stare suspiciously at Watari)

**Watari: **… He's much easier to deal with when he's stoned! … And I can take advantage of him without fear of refute too!

**Tatsumi: **… That's so insidious.

**Watari: **Hey, he got me drunk just so I would boff him.

**Muraki: **I can't imagine it would have taken a great deal of persuading…

**Count: **Touché. Maybe Wakaba should take a leaf from Mr. Mibu's book?

**Tatsumi: **(Blushes)

**Muraki: **Absolutely. Nothing a cheap hotel room and a pint of burbon couldn't fix. Might do you the world of good Mr. Tatsumi.

**Tatsumi: **(Still blushing) Oh would you be quiet?

**Count: **It seems like everyone is starting to get paired off around here, doesn't it? Watari is with Oriya-

**Watari: **(Hugging the stoned Oriya's arm to his chest as Oriya continues to stare off dazed into the distance)

**Count: **- my beloved Tsuzuki has found contentment in the arms of his … em, less than conventional partner Muraki-

**Tsuzuki: **(Trying to snuggle up to Muraki, who for once isn't having a bar of it)

**Count: **- Tatsumi is being favorably pursued by the sweet and vivacious much younger woman, Kanuuki Wakaba-

**Tatsumi: **(Tries and fails to look haughty and uninterested)

**Count: **- Mr. Konoe will in the not too distant future be courting a lovely fair haired geisha-

**Konoe: **(Looks very content in this prospect)

**Count: **- and dear Ichibana has… well… we're not sure really who he has, now do we?

**Ichibana: **(From somewhere undisclosed) Oh, now that's nice.

**Count: **But alas, who does dear Hisoka have? And Mr. Terazuma? And me? Who do I have?

**Oriya: **Your blow up Tsuzuki-doll doesn't count, Count?

**Count: **(Seriously) No, I don't think so… Alas, it seems poor Hisoka, Terazuma and I are fated to be the only single people in this entire story.

**Saki: **A-_hem._

**Count: **Ah yes and Saki has his blood curdling cough to keep him company but as for the rest of us… perhaps Terazuma might be paired up with Seki when we should have the good fortune to find her current location?

**Watari: **NO! Absolutely not! Seki is my daughter and only I get to decide what man she is allowed to be with! … And Oriya too but only because he's her pimp!

**Tsuzuki: **(Claps hands together gleefully) Ooh, ooh! I know! Why don't we pair Hisoka up with Saki! I mean, they look pretty much alike and they're sorta both stuck around the same age!

**Hisoka: **I don't want to be paired up with anyone!

**Saki: **And I'm not interested in boys! Pandora maybe, but not me! You can ask him when he comes out to have a chat sometime. Why not pair the boy up with Fujisawa? You know… Kira's current partner?

**Hisoka: **Christ… not that guy from St. Micheals? The one who said he wanted to-

**Watari: **Bugger you? Yes that would be the one. Nice guy, very cute. I have his number if you're interested?

**Hisoka: **I'm not interested! Why the Hell would I be interested in _that_? And why on earth do _you _have his number, Mr. Watari?!

**Muraki: **It's not obvious?

**Watari: **Shut up. Read chapter… whatever. Can't recall which chapter exactly right now but I didn't get his number the way _you're _thinking. (Hands number to the Count) Here. I hope you two are very happy together.

**Count: **Ooooh, yay! Love!

**Hickock: **Gotta love a happy ending, right folks? Well, hope you enjoyed the update and by joves, I would jolly well love some reviews old chomps! Make my bloody day it would! Don't know when I can get the next chapter up but stay stout in heart and I shall have it to you as quickly as I can! Got to run now, chaps! Off to bed and ready for another day at work tomorrow. Cheery pip! XD


	29. Tsuzuki: Old Shoes and Fireflies

**Dark Adaptation**

**Disclaimer: **Descendants of Darkness, affiliated characters, locations and concepts… are all fictionalized concepts and any relation to any persons living or dead is unintentional and completely fucking creepy.

Also, I don't own it. Thankyou.

**A/N: **Happy Belated Valentine's Day to you, dear readers! And boy do I have a special treat lined up for you!

**Tsuzuki: **Special treat?

**Hickock: **That's right! Because tonight for the first time, at just about half past ten –

**Watari: **Why am I hearing a song in this?

**Hickock: **- there's gonna be a MuTsu lemon!

**Saki: **(Waving arms around in the air) It's a MuTsu lemon! Hallelujah, it's a MuTsu lemon! Amen! Celebrate good times, come on! Whoot!

**Muraki: **I find you far too sarcastic for just a head. And you for a waitress, Hickock. But I'll let it go on account that there is finally going to be a MuTsu lemon and I for one am most grateful that it has, at long last, come to pass.

**Hickock: **Fuckin' A! As much satisfaction as it would give me to further deprive you, Muraki, I feel like I need to take mercy on my faithful readers and reviewers before they report me to Amnesty International.

**Muraki: **Smart girl.

**Tsuzuki: **Well I for one don't feel like celebrating at all! Don't you guys realize that this is the beginning of the end of the integrity of Asato Tsuzuki?! No one will take me seriously after this!

**Watari: **So you'll have pretty much the same relationship with everyone that you do now.

**Tsuzuki: **Shut up!

**Count: **(Sobbing inconsolably in the corner)

**Oriya: **Mr. Tsuzuki, surely you realized it had to happen someday? I mean, you have had a four-year reprieve.

**Watari: **Four years?! Man, you suck, Hickock! Four years? Is this like the longest fic ever?

**Hickock: **…

**Tatsumi: **She's too embarrassed to answer.

**Muraki: **As she should be. I mean, the lemon section isn't even as long as I would like it.

**Tsuzuki: **I don't think any lemon scene would be long enough for you.

**Oriya: **(Reading over chapter content) It is relatively short, considering…

**Hickock: **Oh stop complaining you lot. If I dragged it on any longer it would have been too much. My intention was for a romantic setting rather than that hormone driving porn fest between you and Bubble-butt over there.

**Watari: **Now I know where Ichibana gets it!

**Hickock: **We speak the same lingo, yes. Anyway, there'll be a bit more cuddly pillow talk and extension of sex scenes next chapter.

**Tsuzuki: **Oh great. Because one sex session with Muraki isn't enough to completely drive me over the edge. I think I want to renew my contract.

**Watari: **Well, isn't somebody being precious today? Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy it! I've done the proof reading, I know!

**Tsuzuki: **God dammit! Invasion of privacy! You make me angry, Watari!

**Hickock: **Okay people… humongous headache, can we keep it down a bit?

**Saki: **You do look tired…

**Hickock: **I haven't slept the last couple of nights because I really wanted to have this finished by Valentine's Day…

**Tsuzuki: **Why? It's not romantic! I'm having sex with Muraki!

**Watari: **The only thing I regret is that I will no longer be able to call you Chastity Boy when this fic is over… though I think I will anyway.

**Tsuzuki: **Well that just doesn't make any sense, you stupid head!

**Watari: **You're the stupid head!

**Oriya: **You're both a couple of stupid heads. Honestly, just let it rest!

**Tatsumi: **And would you please stop that hideous screeching, Count? It's not the end of the world you know!

**Count: **(Wails pathetically) Yes it is! It should have been me compromising Tsuzuki's virtue!

**Tsuzuki: **Eyuck! I just can't win around here!

**Count: **I would choose suicide the old fashioned way, before allowing Tsuzuki to consent to such debauchery!

**Muraki: **Right you are then. (Hands the Count a knife) Oriya, you stand behind him and cut his head off just as soon as those intestines hit the floor.

**Count: …**

**Oriya: …**

**Muraki: **Well, forgive me but you shouldn't offer to kill yourself if you don't fully intend to go through with it. It's a crime to get a man's hopes up for no reason.

**Saki: **You're in an awfully good mood, 'Zuta.

**Muraki: **I'm just basking in my feelings of good will and contentment, brother. I'm savoring the sweet sweet smell of success…

**Hickock: **(Is sleepy)

**Tsuzuki: **This is really embarrassing! I don't want everyone to see me naked!

**Muraki: **Darling I see you naked every time I close my eyes. (Shuts eyes and adopts super dreamy expression)

**Tsuzuki: **… Please stop.

**Muraki: **(Grins) Oh yes… that's a nice position…

**Tsuzuki: **(Whiny) Stop it! Hickock, make him stop! He's thinking about me doing lewd things!

**Hickock: **(Wakes up) Garg! First nap I've had in days and I'm woken up by Tsuzuki's feral squealing?! Mother Theresa didn't have patience enough for you lot!

**Tsuzuki: **But Hicko-

**Count: **(Interrupts by wailing hideously)

**Muraki: **(Tries to assist with involuntary Seppuku)

**Oriya: **(Being molested by Watari)

**Watari: **(Molesting Oriya)

**Tatsumi: **(Cursing over millions of receipts)

**Saki: **(Watching cooking show upside down)

**Hisoka: **…

**Hickock: **Here is that day I never thought would come; the day I finally understood the pain you must truly go through, Hisoka.

**Hisoka: **One does become desensitized to it after a while.

**Hickock: **Dear brave boy.

(Squalor continues)

**Hickock: **Enough! All of you! Do you realize just what I've been through trying to finish this chapter?! Over a dozen rewrites, countless all nighters, endless cartons of cigarettes, over forty dozen bottles of wine –

**Tatsumi: **(Cough) Bad-influence-on-susceptible-young-readers (cough)

**Hickock: **- hours of surrendered leisure time, leg and hand cramps, missed meals, neglecting of personal hygiene, to name a few things! … You know, it has become distressingly clear to me now why so many writers end up as smelly, bloated alcoholic drunks!

**Muraki: **That's not saying much. You were already one to begin with.

**Hickock: **You should be grateful, you swine! Who else gets a Valentine's present like this?! (Clears throat) Okay, official address to readers. As usual, sorry it takes so long to get these chapters out. As you might have noticed by now, they are rather long and this one was in particular especially difficult to write. And I did set myself a deadline, which probably didn't help because it made me want to rush. But Anyhoo, as always thanks for your support, happy reading and sorry if the lemon isn't long enough to satisfy everyone. There will be more MuTsu lemony goodness next time around. This time, it was Tsuzuki's first, so I aimed to make it just that little more romantic.

Oh and this chapter is dedicated in particular to my very dear friend and betta reader Jollyolly, who has been with me since the very first chapter and kept faith over all these years and got me back into the swing of writing! I hope I have done you proud!

Incidentally, free plug Jollyolly. Read her fanfiction, which is considerably better and far more porn-y than my own.

Now, without further ado, I give to you: -

Death Precedes us with a Knowing Smile

**Part One of Two: Old Shoes and Fireflies.**

** X **

You're cruel device

Your blood, like ice

One look, could kill

My pain; your thrill

I wanna love you but I'd better not touch

I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop

I wanna kiss you but I want it too much

I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison

You're poison, running through my veins

You're poison

I don't wanna break these chains

Your mouth, so hot

Your will, uncaught

Your skin, so wet

Black lace on sweat

I hear you calling and it's needles and pins

I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name

Don't wanna touch you but you're under my skin (Deep in)

I wanna kiss you but your lips are venomous poison

You're poison running through my veins

You're poison

I don't wanna break these chains

Poison

One look

Could kill

My pain, your thrill

I wanna love you but I'd better not touch

I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop

I wanna kiss you but I want it too much

I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison

Your poison running through my veins

Your poison

I don't wanna break these chains

Poison

I wanna love you but I'd better not touch

I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop

I wanna kiss you but I want it too much )

I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison

I don't wanna break these chains

Poison

Running deep inside my veins

You're poison burning deep inside my veins

I don't wanna break these chains

**- Poison: Alice Cooper -**

**Muraki**

**17 years ago**

Whatever answers Saki Shidou sought from the rain must have been withheld from him. That was the only reason I can envision that brought him to stand there, solitary and unwavering in his contemplation for the past two and a half hours. A sixteen year old boy, going on seventeen and yet he stared up into the streaming sky as though he were a man twenty; no, fifty years older.

I thought that he looked pale and ghostly and coming from a man possessing a decreased degree of pigmentation such as mine, you must realize that this means something. His usual handsome features had started to slacken, the bags beneath his eyes sporting an unhealthy dark sheen and his shoulders had begun to sink downward, forcing his back to adopt a rather ungainly slope. We had been known to each other as brothers barely a year and I had since gotten use to him as this perpetually confident, unshakeable, presence. The last couple of months however, he seemed to have almost sunk down into himself and become something less than the person I had once admired.

I watched him for a minute, slouched and staring up into the overcast sky as though questing for a solution that he hoped might fall from it. I perceived a certain helplessness in his visage as though he had arrived at a crossroads and neither path provided him much of any particular solace.

Most of all I was struck by just how old he seemed. And not just in his actions, you realize. Physically, it was as though he had aged eight years or so in the past nine months.

Water dripped from his chin, his hair, thinned from stress hung limp upon his head and yet his solemn eyes never once wavered from the dark, cloud choked horizon. And though I never made any sound to indicate that I had joined him that evening, he somehow sensed my presence. With a sideways tilt of his chin, he met my gaze in such a way that allowed no movement from his eyes to permeate the dictation of his attention. I admit I felt a pang in my heart. Saki had always been such a mischievous and positive presence but he looked so sad in that moment. He hadn't been the same since Oriya's accident.

I cupped my hands about my mouth, a ditch attempt to be heard above the howling of the wind. "Saki! You should come in before you catch cold."

He looked puzzled for a minute and then, with a sweet grin, placed a hand about his ear, like a blinder and shifted his weight sideways to indicate that he had not heard me and I should repeat myself. I groaned, though not without patience and stepped closer to the overhang of the above awning, attempting to keep myself from having to actually inter myself within the rain.

"Come out of the rain, you idiot! Look at you you're soaked! And I don't think that you're well enough to fuck around like this!"

Saki lowered his hand for a second and blinked at me. And then, with an even more outlandish grin, repeated his earlier action of cupping his ear and tipping side on in order to increase the likelihood that he would now hear me. It was purely jest of course and though I never doubted that he wasn't able to hear me, I understood him enough by this stage to know that he would have done anything to elicit a smile from me. That was the sort of young man he was.

I stepped out into the rain, holding a hand to my forehead to prevent my limp bangs from obscuring my sight. Saki waited patiently for me to join him, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched over. I could see his lips moving and I didn't realize he was singing to himself until I got close enough to hear.

"When you feel the urge to cry and you can't hold back your tears,

Don't be ashamed to let me see,

Don't hide your eyes from me.

Let's walk across the bridges railing, hand in hand in case we slip,

I'll hold you steady while I'm here

As the wind sweeps through our hair-"

"Never heard that song before." I said, as I strolled up to join him. "Someone teach it to you?"

Saki's eyes remained on the horizon. "Don't know… It's just a song." He fell silent, lips pressed together to form a thin line. I realized he had nothing more to say of the matter so I changed the subject.

"I'd expect that someone who scored 170 on a psychometric Intelligence Quotient test would have more brains then to stand outside in this storm," I commented. Saki didn't reply but continued to focus on a point, just a little to the left of my shoulder. "Saki… what's wrong? You've been off for weeks now." I scoffed and shook my wet hair to the side. "No… forget these past few weeks. You haven't been right for months."

If he didn't care for himself properly, I could see that Saki was the kind of person who wasn't likely to age well. I don't think his immune system was very good and he had limited stamina, prone to tiring out easily if he didn't get enough sleep. I think that's why he was starting to look so worn out. He'd even lost weight; appearing to be a shadow of his former self, as poetic that might sound.

Saki sighed deeply and lifted his long mousy brown bangs away from his forehead. "I suppose you're right… I guess even us genius's become remiss of the obvious every once in a while."

It may have sounded like he was bragging and once upon a time, you would have been exactly right to think so. But Saki wasn't wrong. He was a genius. He'd ranked highest in the second year district countrywide examination score. First out of all those people… He certainly wasn't stupid. Neither of us were. But at that moment, he didn't seem the least bit proud or pleased about his outstanding intellect.

Saki looked up into the sky, blinking wildly as drops of rain landed upon his eyelashes, obscuring his vision.

"Oriya…" I hadn't been expecting him to speak, so it came as a shock when he actually did. "You… and Ukyou… I'm so grateful to have had the three of you in my life. You're three people I sincerely love." He lowered his head for a minute and raised a hand to rub both eyelids at the same time. It seemed to me that he had suddenly registered just how tired he was. "Both you and Ukyou mean so much to me… but Oriya was the first true friend I ever made. When I first came to Nokyale High… he reached out to me when no one else did. Even if he was a gruff bastard." He covered his eyes. "I think we may have ruined his life… Kazutaka."

I too felt great regret for what had happened to Oriya. He was in hospital. His back and left leg were broken, his hip wrenched cruelly out of place. The doctors doubted he would ever walk again. But he hadn't blamed either of us for what had happened, even though we had both been responsible for pushing him away from us. A push backwards, when he had been standing on the edge of a precipice.

When we went to the hospital to see him, Oriya looked at us with sad eyes but smiled just the same and assured us he held no grudge. He was grateful to be alive and would fight hard to overcome this obstacle. We, he told us, should do the same.

I looked away and tried to piece my thoughts together before returning my eyes to Saki. "I think that it's best if we lead by Oriya's example… can you imagine what he would think if he saw us now? Last he knew I was the emaciated one. But now… Jesus Christ Saki, you look like you haven't had a decent meal in weeks. You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened to Oriya. We're both accountable. He would never forgive me if he could see how you look now."

Saki made a movement with his lips to represent a huffing sound. "I don't think I can really help the way that I look, Kazutaka… I feel stretched thin these days. As though I'm putting so much out but getting nothing back in return."

"Like a car that's running on empty?" I offered. He gave me a small smile.

"Like a car with only a quarter tank of petrol left." He looked upwards and stuck a finger in the air. "Running on a highway towards my destination… with not another gas station between here and there."

I wiped a finger across my rain-streaked glasses, feeling my patience wearing just the slightest bit thin.

"Working part time at the library and studying for examinations aside, I can't really see how you have been straining yourself, Saki." He looked at me like a wounded dog and I almost regretted the harsh tone in which I had spoken. Almost. "Why do you say such unnecessary things?"

He lowered his eyes. "No reason… I suppose." He sunk his hands back into his pockets, looking straight ahead. "You know Kazutaka… I really am envious of you."

This surprised me most of all. I couldn't imagine any reason at all why Saki should have envied me.

"Envious?" I couldn't subdue the chuckle I felt forming at the nadir of my throat. "How could you possibly feel envious of me? Saki," I took a step toward him. "Since the moment you first came into my life you've always been the popular one. The smart one. The confident one. Everyone at Nokyale High knows that… You'd have to be mad to want to be anything like me."

Saki raked a hand back through his hair and he looked almost beautiful in doing so. "You might think so… but that's because you have no confidence in yourself, 'Zuta." That was his nickname for me; Zuta. No one else had ever called me by that name and I doubt anyone ever will again. "I'm only the way I am because I feel as though I have to be. It's the way my father bought me up you see? To be responsible. I'm been trying so hard to do what I think is right by him that I never really stopped to consider just who I really am underneath it all." He scratched the back of his head amiably. "I think being strong is very important… it helps you get on with things. Push past the bad stuff, you know? But you can only be strong for so long… after a while you start to-" He smiled without humor, chewing his bottom lip at the conclusion of his sentence. "- find yourself 'running on empty.' But with you Zuta, at least you know who you are." The rain grew heavier. "At least you only bear the responsibility of being yourself."

He looked so glum; I couldn't help but take pity on him. But at the same time, I couldn't prevent a peculiar feeling of elation from sweeping over me. Here was someone who from my standing appeared to be unsurpassable; such was the presence and impact he had made on my life. Perhaps everybody has felt this sort of emotion at some point. To be witness to the tiny fracture presented by a person you hold in such high regard, be they friend or foe. A crack in the armor, a point through which you can interpret their standing as a person with doubts and weaknesses not unlike yourself. If only for a second, you can bring yourself to their level.

Saki was a brilliant human being. He knew exactly what he was doing in revealing himself to me like this. But why now? If being strong was so important to him, why would he relinquish upon that? Why would he lower himself to such a degree that I might have felt inclined, if only for a moment, to feel myself superior? I couldn't pretend to understand the intellectual workings of the mind of genius, though I was certainly no fool myself. His reasoning that day was beyond my interpretation however and remains so until this day.

"I've never heard you speak in quite such a dejected tone, Saki-kun." I commented, moving closer and unconsciously slouching my shoulders in order to see up into his face. "I'm sure that Saki has never been anything other than Saki. Even when you think you've been putting a mask on for the convenience of others, isn't it safe to assume that you take such action only because it is in your nature to do so?"

He gazed up at me, seemingly surprised that I had made such a provocative conjecture. "So what you're saying… is that pushing myself to be strong is who I am."

I smiled. "Exactly. Aren't you the one who always said that it doesn't cost a cent to offer someone a smile? Knowing you Saki, I doubt you could say such a thing without believing in it yourself."

His eyes cast downward. "Actually… it was my father who said that." He seemed to be in pain for a moment and gnawed his lower lip; a convulsive habit that peaked through whenever he was overcome by a bout of nervousness. "I wish he were here now. I'm… not well. And I don't know what to do. I wish I could hear his voice… but I'm deaf to so many things these days."

We stood in silence, I not quite sure how to respond to his unfamiliar sorrow. I suppose Saki must have realized that this whole conversation had left me vaguely unsettled because he took a hold of my arm with a deep sigh and pressed his forehead against my upper arm.

"Don't listen to me," He said, voice muffled against the sodden material. "I'm a stupid, self-absorbed boy that couldn't do anything to help anyone." He gave my arm a squeeze. "Ukyou and Oriya mean so much to me. But you, Kazutaka, you're my brother. We're blood you and I. And besides that, you're also my very dear friend, whom I truly value. I hope you can believe that. It's probably one of the only few honest things I have ever meant."

"Saki…" I whispered. I put my arm around his shoulders and held him, not sure that I really felt my heart in the motion but trying nonetheless to hold him only responsible for the human being that he was. I had resented his presence in my life deeply but he'd done nothing to make life miserable for me. On the contrary, he had been a good, kind and decent brother. And a sincerely nice person. Right then, he looked like a flower that had withered almost completely away beneath the sun, whereas my body was finally starting to burst free from a constricted shell and bloom. We were opposite ends of the same plank, balanced precariously on a singular point. One point of the level was always higher than the other. Standing there with Saki, I got the distinct impression that I was watching him sink downward, with the direct result that I in turn was raised toward the sky. Toward the sun. Toward life itself.

What does one do when faced with this knowledge? To think that I was growing stronger, perhaps as a direct consequence of my brother wasting away. Saki had done nothing to deserve such a fate. To deserve to be sucked dry.

Saki clenched the back of my shirt between his fist.

"Do you really want to know why I'm out here?" He asked.

I placed my hand gently upon the back of his head. "Of course."

He might have been crying; I'm not sure. His voice betrayed nothing and of course the rain had saturated my body beyond the point that I would have been able to feel his tears. But I got the definite sense that sadness was beginning to flow from beneath his once long, now frayed lashes.

"Because…" I felt his Adams Apple move up and down as he swallowed. "This is the last time I will ever feel the rain." He tipped his face back and opened himself up to it, unable to see my shocked expression.

"The last time… what do you mean by that?!" I snapped.

He smiled sweetly; his sunken features appearing so small beneath his heap of chin length, bedraggled hair. "I've already spoken with Oriya of the matter and I feel safe in the knowledge that you will be taken care of you. But I want you to promise me - "

"Saki, what are you talking about?!"

" – I want you to promise me that you'll take care of Ukyou. That the three of you will take care of one another. We're the Nokyale gang after all. I want to be sure you remember that, even when you're a grown man." He seemed to see directly into my soul, directly into the future that even I had no knowledge of. "Betray whomever you want, 'Zuta but never turn your back on Ukyou and Oriya. They're the only people I wouldn't ever want you to hurt."

I growled and grasped him firmly about his thin shoulders, shocked by the feel of his protruding collarbone beneath my thumbs. I forced him back, the better to scream down into his emaciated features.

"Saki! Don't talk like that! Why are you saying such pointless things? You're talking like…" I could barely bring myself to say it. " – like you're going to die!"

The smile hadn't left his face. "We all die some day, Kazutaka. Surely you don't entertain any such delusions of immortality, do you?"

I actually felt my features contort. "That's not what I meant! You speak as though you're going to die any day now!"

Saki raised his hand to brush my bangs away from my glasses. "By three o'clock Friday, to be precise."

My eyes burst apart as wide as they could go. "You can't possibly know that! That's impossible!"

"No. It's true. I don't know the exact time but I know I will no longer be a part of this world by three o'clock Friday. I don't even know how I'm going to die but I can feel the Death Wound on my shoulder, right here." He indicated a point on his right shoulder blade, some two-hand widths down from the slope of his neck. For the first time, I saw his smile start to tremble. "I'm… afraid."

I gave him a little shake. "Saki, you can't think that way!"

He gave a little laugh but the effort died in his throat. "You'll understand one day… I can only hope you remember what I've told you here today. Whatever else comes, don't forget that you are my very true friend. Which is why, as my true friend, I know I can entrust you with this task that I would entrust to no other…"

**Tsuzuki**

**Present Day…**

The rain of Tokyo had caught up with us. A small patter of drops was starting to fall down upon the scene and yet, I can't remember feeling a single one of them.

I stood there, lost and uncomprehending, wishing with my ever-presiding ignorance that all of this could just magically cease to be. I wanted everything to vanish, myself most of all and for the resolution to this irresolvable situation to present itself. And most of all, and not for the first time, I found myself wishing for my sister. I wanted to be back in our little house in Tokyo, all those long decades ago, where I could stand behind her and yack away pointlessly whilst she cooked dinner and doted on me with a patient smile. I wanted to feel her comforting arms around me; I wanted her kind presence, her sincere love… Oh God how I miss her! If only she could have been there with me, I felt almost certain she could have made things better.

But there was no magic out for this. I was on my own. Muraki's blood was flowing out from his grisly wound in an ever-expanding pool, pressing against the side of my shoes. His fingers dithered weakly against my ankle, holding onto me with only the intention of sharing my contact, fully conscious of the fact that this was the end of his life-

**Muraki**

**Dammit… what's going on?!**

**My body… I can't move… I can feel the… the cold…**

**It's creeping in… **

**Tsuzuki?! Where are you? I can't see you!! Mother! Ukyou?! Oriya!!**

**Anyone… **

**Answer me**

…

**Saki…**

… **please help me…**

**I'm in so much pain… I can't think, I can't move… I don't know what's going on around me. I can't help, I can't do anything!**

**It hurts… it hurts so much…**

**Please help… Saki… Please…**

… **Come back…**

**Tsuzuki**

No.

I couldn't allow this! Had I not promised myself that? If I were to ever die, it would be Muraki who would kill me and in turn, it would be I that ended his life. That was our bond. That was our destiny! It wasn't anyone else's to decide!

Blind rage welled up inside of me and I turned on Tatsumi with furious, uncompromising eyes.

"What are you doing?!" Not waiting to see his expression, I dove down and pressed my hands over the bubbling wounds stemming primarily from Muraki's throat and chest. "Our orders were to bring him in, not kill him! You attacked him from behind!"

Tears were flowing down over Wakaba's cheeks and her hands were pressed so tightly against her face that her skin was turning white beneath the pressure. "Tsuzuki, I'm so sorry! Seiichirou knows…"

My anger couldn't even abate long enough to allow myself to be shocked by the entirety of what she was saying. For the first time in a very long time, I felt the presence of that blood thirsty animal inside of me, the very same being that the Count commented upon seeing buried deep within my eyes. The fearsome snake, uncoiling from the dark chasm in my soul…

"Knows?!" I snapped, without patience. "Whaddya mean 'knows?!'"

Wakaba took a wavering step away from me, her eyes widening at the ferocity in my appearance. How could I be anything but? Muraki's blood was bubbling over my fingers, his life draining away as I watched. I was frightened.

"At Tokyo cinema two weeks ago…" She stuttered, looking away so she wouldn't have to meet my gaze. "Muraki… he came and spoke to us. Hajime thought he looked familiar, so we asked around to see if we could figure out who he had come with, thinking it might give us an idea about who he was. Sure enough… some… well, high-spirited young girls told us he'd arrived with a dark haired man with very peculiar eyes. Purple eyes." She met said eyes for a moment before quickly flickering her own to the side. "We knew who he was immediately… we knew who he was and that you had been there with him! Your worst enemy!"

I felt my blood boil as though it were water under heat. "Kanuuki! You-"

She cut across me, no doubt interpreting whatever I'd been meaning to say next as not being particularly affectionate. "Hajime and I have known for a fortnight, Tsuzuki. It was Hajime who persuaded me not to tell anyone… he thought something must have been wrong. He wanted to give you some time… thought you might be in trouble, or you had a plan and we'd just be interfering-"

"Bakayarou!" I was so furious, I was swearing at her without even considering her thoughtfulness thus far. My skin was actually contorting on my face, as though I were changing into some foreign beast before their very eyes. "You had no right to go behind my back and tell Tatsumi! Just who the Hell do you think you are, you stupid little girl!?"

I felt a sharp slap against my face, bestowed so thoughtfully by one of Tatsumi's many lingering shadow puppets. The secretary's eyes burned with disgust as I returned that loathing gaze from beneath ruffled tendrils of hair.

"Don't you start in on her, Tsuzuki. She did the right thing coming to me. Something you should have done at the outset of this whole injudicious arrangement." I felt that self-same shadow he had used to slap me, wind itself around my wrist and yank me roughly to my feet. Blood started gurgling afresh from Muraki's neck as the pressure from my hands was forcefully removed. "Stand behind me."

"No! Stop! Tatsumi!" I shrieked, sounding so much younger than I actually was. I shook the shadow off with much effort, causing it to snap like a plastic band brought under great friction, leaving a throbbing red mark around my wrist. "Listen to me, Goddammit! Why are you doing this? Our orders were to bring Muraki in alive! You just… you just…" I stared in sudden mortification at the red stains on the palms of my hands, feeling the blood running down my arms, dripping from the point of my elbows, rescinding upon themselves before sliding back down towards my fingers again. My fragile mind flickered in and out of focus and I had to consciously force myself to remember where I was and what had happened. This wasn't a century past… this wasn't the blood of the people… of the one important person… "Fuck, the blood! There's blood everywhere! Tatsumi!" I could feel the scream welling up in my throat. "GOD! I don't know- … Where am I?!" I stepped backwards, confused and landing in the fresh pool of blood spurting from Muraki's wounds. I turned to look down at him with mad eyes and felt his hand grasp my ankle. There was a gentle expression on his pain-wracked features.

"It's okay…" So he wasn't dead yet… not dead yet, not even unconscious. Raw relief flooded through my veins. "You haven't done anything wrong… don't be afraid…"

My heart thudded wildly against my chest as my mind came steadily back into focus. No… it was Muraki's blood… the year was 2003… Focus, calm down… I forced myself to breathe.

"Tatsumi… we were supposed to bring him in alive…" I whispered weakly. His chin was down, a classic demonstration of anger as he met my eyes.

"That's only what I was instructed to tell you. My orders however, were different." He pulled something out of his pocket and threw it disdainfully to the ground at my feet. I picked it up with hands that weren't quite steady and quickly looked it over. Sure enough, it was a mission statement made out exclusively to Tatsumi, with the specified parameter's concerning extermination of target. "Muraki is one of the Ministry's Most Wanted. I was told to take you all in on the pretence of restraining him but when isolated, to finish him off."

I dropped the piece of paper as though it had burned me. "No… that's not right!" I lunged toward him, making ridiculously, over exaggerated hand gestures. "Everyone, no matter how corrupt, how evil, has a right to a trial by jury within the Ministry Court! That's the fucking rules, Tatsumi! Only the King of Hades has the authority to overrule that!"

Tatsumi inclined his head. "His Majesty Enma was the one who issued me this particular mission objective. He probably realized ahead of time what you were doing behind our backs all along and wanted it taken care of."

"He… he couldn't…" I mumbled but was distracted by Muraki's sudden, delirious rambles issuing from behind my back. His eyes were staring up toward the sky, without present focus and his blood stained hand was stretching up into the rain as though reaching for something that was not there.

"Saki, it's the… last rain…" He whispered, a small smile unfolding upon his lips. I darted over and grabbed that hand, yanking it down out of the past and into the wall of my chest, clutching it between both my own. His skin felt cold. It was turning black.

"Muraki?! Muraki…" I pressed my fingers against his cheek, biting my tongue to suppress my emotions. "You're going cold… Muraki, look at me!" I clutched his face and forced his half-lidded eyes towards me. "Look at me!" I gave him a little shake, to force his full attention and glanced over my shoulder to take in Tatsumi. "If he dies, Tatsumi… you'll be no better than him! I don't care if it's what Enma asked you to do… but he doesn't get to die like this! You think he's worth this?!"

"Saki…" Muraki murmured, his eye sliding back out of focus. Blood was dribbling down the corner of his mouth, which meant his lungs were punctured. If I didn't do something soon, he was going to drown in his own blood.

"Saki's not here, Muraki." I rubbed his face, trying to restore some of the feeling. "It's Asato… I'm right here…" He continued to stare off to the side. "LOOK AT ME!"

He looked but his face was discouragingly pale and the light in his single eye was fading. His essence was jilting… I could feel his life force ebbing, almost in direct contrast to his still flowing blood. He must have lost nearly a quart in the first stroke Tatsumi bestowed upon him and what remained now surrounded us like the red lake in the Room of Corollary.

"Mr. Tsuzuki…" His finger stroked down my cheek, leaving a trace of wet warmth against my skin. "It's my last rain…" His whole body shuddered. "I feel cold…"

A furious sob jilted out of my body and I reared up, slapping his face as hard as I could. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP YOU BASTARD! You're not going to die! You think you deserve to die having done nothing to redeem yourself?" I clutched the scarf around his neck and pulled him close to my face. "I love you." I whispered it so Tatsumi or Wakaba couldn't hear it. "But you have a goddamn lot to make up for, don't you doubt that. You… don't get to die before you've started to repair the damage you've done. You don't get the easy way out, understand? Whatever it takes," I slid the bone cleaver out from the waistband of my pants, holding it up as though I were going to start slicing Muraki up into tiny pieces with it. I guess Wakaba interpreted it as such, because she actually screamed like a horror movie extra and Tatsumi was yelling for me to stop. "I'll make sure you live."

Using my teeth, I ripped the watch off of my wrist and then, trying not to think too deeply about what I was about to do, I slapped my right hand down on the ground and looked away, eyes squeezing shut as I brought the cleaver down upon the scars, holding the dull blade against them. And then I repeated that same act I swore once long ago to never perform again.

I slit my wrist.

The scars that brought my death would bring Muraki life.

**Muraki**

I can't tell you exactly what happened in those moments following Tsuzuki's sensational sacrifice because in all honesty, I am not entirely sure. I had lost a great quantity of blood. Nausea whelmed throughout my delicate condition and my vision was blurring. My mind flashed in and out of reality, faltering back towards the past in which Saki and I had stood beneath his last rain. I could understand that sensation now, could relish the finality of those soft, wet drops that I might never feel again. But after a while I could no longer feel anything. Not the rain on my face, not the pain of my wounds, nor the ground beneath my body. Nor could I feel Mr. Tsuzuki's presence when he lowered his body behind my own and brought his right arm down across my chest, angling his hand up towards my face. I thought perhaps he was indulging in one last embrace and that he meant to touch my face so that I might sense his presence as I passed away. But my fading senses picked up something; a coppery smell, not unfamiliar in the life of one such as myself. I recognized that exquisite scent from only minutes earlier. It was Tsuzuki's blood. I could feel it there, wet and hot against the columns of my lips and it was enough to raise all the hairs on my body, creating a momentary flush of sensation I was able to experience even then on the throes of death.

I acted entirely by instinct, too sick and weak to decline whatever was offered me and still somehow able to sense that I was being offered the very thing that would save my life. I was weak to the state of paralysis, no longer able to speak and every breath was causing a bubbling sensation in the depths of my lungs. My lungs had been rent apart by the blades of the shadow. Even my heart had been compromised and I supposed that the arteries had been grazed. My bowels were bleeding. I was frightened to continue evaluating my injuries.

So when I felt that warm flow of blood not my own, I didn't allow myself the privilege of hesitance. Nor did it occur to me to refuse Tsuzuki's selfless gift, though it was certainly in his favor to do so. He'd already lost a great deal of blood that day, thanks to me. Any more would have made him terribly ill, at the very least.

But I didn't consider that. There's no means for consideration when death itself is standing just in the corner of your eye. I could almost see the Count's fingers poised around the wick of my weakly flickering candle.

"Hurry, Muraki…" I could hear Mr. Tsuzuki's voice, as though coming from far away. He pushed his wet wrist upon me impatiently. "Drink. Now!"

With that final demand ringing in my pounding ears, I gathered what remained of my wits and grasped Tsuzuki's shaking hand between both my own and pulled that weeping wound between my cold, unfeeling lips. Though my senses failed to register the pressure against my mouth, I felt the hot, life giving quality of his blood trickling down the back of my throat and I swallowed, attaching myself to him with despairing hunger, a starving hunger, unlike anything I had ever felt before. I heard him groan, again as though coming from far away but couldn't stop myself once started, not even thinking that I might have killed him in my manic anxiety. In response to the blood lust, my fangs ran out to their full length, additionally puncturing the skin about the wound Tsuzuki had already made.

I registered that unique comfort of nourishment from him; such as I had never received from my mother as an infant. Warmth started to slowly return to my extremeties and I could hear someone screaming in anger, coming in more clearly than anything had thus far.

I had lost so much blood, it needed to be almost entirely replaced and it was through this that Tsuzuki had hoped I might be healed. By giving me so much of himself, he thus converted his energy to me, including his powers of rapid healing. As I drank, I became aware of a familiar, yet accelerated salve, as the gaping wound down the line of my body knitted together, first forming a thick aching scab, which then fell away exposing scar tissue. This too faded almost instantaneously. And then the wound upon my neck seemed to curl in upon itself, vanquished with only a residual ache. And the world around me seemed to fade, as every one of my attuned senses came to focus on that connection between us. I didn't check myself as I brought my head up, finding myself able to move again without even thinking about it and slid my upper and lower canines into Mr. Tsuzuki's neck, breathing soft laughter at the weak whimper he admitted. And yet he did nothing to dissuade me, fearing to break that connection between us just as I did. He opened himself up, allowing his skin to be broken beneath my anxious onslaught. I could feel the pounding of his heart, the soft flutter of his eyelids and the expanding of his lungs as he fought for breath. It seemed to me that the whole world faded to an indiscernible shadow around us. There was nothing but us, with nothing between his soul and my own.

Blessed life sliding into me, from the last rain within his veins.

**Tsuzuki**

Was I simply remiss of the fact that Tatsumi and Wakaba were still there, watching us and horrified no doubt by this blatant, almost vile and certainly unnatural exchange? Well… yes and no. It became apparent to me the weaker my body became and I had to exercise great strength in order to pull Muraki's teeth out from the holes in my neck. I had given him a lot of blood and only then did I start to feel the effects of it. My head swam and I nearly fell on my side as sudden nausea flooded my body. Muraki was holding me, whispering to me but I knew I had to get control of the situation, judging from the expression on Tatsumi's face. I staggered to my feet, holding my hand over the wound in my neck, waiting for it to heal. But my powers were stunted, as I had transferred so much energy to Muraki transferring to him the means with which to heal his badly damaged body. As a result, the wound continued to weep and my fingers were soon slick with blood.

Muraki tried to help me up but I pushed him away, wanting to remain impartial, still unsure of how much Tatsumi knew and wondering whether I could repair this situation as easily as I had done Muraki's lesions.

"Ruka…" I could see her face in my mind and I pleaded her, long since departed, to give me strength that I didn't deserve. "What do I do now?"

I was so involved with my insipid, unrealistic desire for a solution that I didn't see it coming until it was too late.

I stepped away from Muraki and turned around right into the path of the Shadow Shifter. I could see the fury on his face, the blind anger and the raw grief. I had only a second to consider this before Seiichirou Tatsumi, one of my oldest and most dearly valued friends, punched me in the face.

He was mad and so he didn't hold back. I was so shocked and this was more than enough, when coupled with the bloodless, to send me backwards onto the ground. I clutched my wounded face, staring up into Tatsumi's wrought iron features through increasingly blurry eyes.

He made to come after me again but Muraki got between us and from the noise he was making I could only assume his fangs were on display and he was giving Tatsumi a face-full of 'have-a-go-I-dare-ya'. Wakaba got between them, forcing both men apart and standing in front of Tatsumi with her arms spread wide.

"How could you do that?!" Tatsumi roared in anguish. I could hear the pain in his voice and his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "How could you let him touch you? How could you?!"

Muraki snarled way back his throat, the same sound a predator might make a second before it attacks with every attention to kill.

"Stop it, stop it!" Wakaba and I screamed in unison. We sounded like two girls trying to keep our boyfriends from fighting. I grappled Muraki around the shoulders and wrenched backwards with all my strength, forcing him to sit down, practically on top of me. Tears were flooding out of Wakaba's eyes as she coordinated her efforts between holding Tatsumi back and keeping Muraki from getting close enough to try anything.

"Calm down, Muraki!" She shrieked, turning about and sliding her arms up around Tatsumi's neck in a last ditch effort to keep him contained. "He's not going to try it again."

Tatsumi's emotions were a mad snarl and nothing existed beyond the cause of his overwhelming humiliation; his grief, his anger. I could see it all there, tangled into a knotted spool at the center of his face. I'd never seen his teeth bared quite so ferociously before and no one could call him beautiful in his fury.

"Like Hell I wont!" Tatsumi roared and with a stamp of his foot, ripped the perimeter shadows from the side of the house and hurled them down towards us like a furious wave of dark water. I tried to pull Muraki with me but he shoved my arms away and dove in the opposite direction, freeing himself from my physical restraint in the process. The shadow crashed down into the ground we had only just occupied, spurning up the dried dirt into great choking clouds. I landed roughly on my side and managed to scramble to my feet just in time to see Muraki dodge another bladed spear of darkness. I turned on Tatsumi.

"Stop it, Tatsumi!" I screamed. His sapphire blue eyes flashed toward me mercilessly.

"Don't test my patience, Tsuzuki!" He barked, hair peppered across his sweat-wracked features. I had never seen him look quite so deranged, not once in our half century of association. "I'll deal with you later."

"Seiichirou, please." Wakaba pleaded, her voice dropping to a low whining pitch I had never before heard. But he ignored her, shunted her aside as gently as he could without making it seem overtly discourteous. Tatsumi may have been devastating in his fury but I'll say this much for him; he never lost sight of just who it was that he was angry with. Wakaba may have been standing between him and his quarry but he wouldn't have dared direct his impatience at her. He was a gentleman. Issues though he had with women, Tatsumi would have never intentionally hurt one.

A beam of glaringly bright light suddenly exploded out from the shrubbery Muraki had previously taken shelter behind. Tatsumi saw it coming and with a violent thrash of his hand, corresponding to a furious roar, sliced the light apart with a sliver of darkness brought forth from the shadow cast by his body. The next tendril he summoned with errant dictations of his left hand and directed it towards the shrubbery, sending leaves exploding into the air as the razor sharp metaphysical matter sliced through. Muraki bounded free in time, deflecting the pursuing spears with rapidly constructed white baubles, that I suppose passed for shields. Absorbing my essence had been enough to restore his rapidly decreased mana apparently.

It was hard to say who appeared the most enraged. Both Tatsumi and Muraki sported strikingly similar expressions of mutual hatred. In fact, their height and physical features were so alike they created an odd correspondence as they ran about the yard, trying to spear each other through and cursing unintelligibly at the tops of their lungs.

"Stop it!" I yelled again but for all the good it did, I might as well have saved my breath. They were beyond listening.

Eyes narrowed behind his glasses, Tatsumi whirled his finger in mid-air, as though stirring a cup of coffee and the shadows beneath the surrounding surfaces darted forward to rise up and meet it, spinning rapidly until they formed into a whirling, ink black tornado. With a flick of his wrist, Tatsumi directed it towards Muraki, who in response whipped off his scarf and whirled it above his head, looking altogether too much like a drunken cowboy. This seemed an oddly unhelpful thing to do until I noticed the subtle variation to the air particles surrounding the distended garment. Directing his mana towards the scarf, infused the material and the direction itself in which he spun it, with a forceful kinetic friction that would outwardly dispel contrary energy when released, much like the stroke of a whip. Which is precisely how Muraki used it, flaying the tassels of the scarf in a vertical twist of his wrist and bringing them across his body, with the result that the projectile locomotion of Tatsumi's shadow cylinder was reversed.

A tornado moves in a circle, following a congealed dictation of wind pattern that is maintained so long as motion is sustained at the highest vertical point. Once released from Tatsumi's hold however, the force of the shadow was maintained only as long as it met no opposing friction. It must have occurred to Muraki in the few seconds before he had whipped the scarf from around his neck. His powers of intuition never failed to astound me, even then. But I was frightened for him. Muraki had avoided confrontation with Tatsumi at the height of his metaphysical prowess. Why stand and fight now when it was obvious he didn't stand a chance in Hell?

Tatsumi glowered at Muraki, as if to suggest how dare he possess the audacity to evade his attack. Muraki responded with his trademark smart-ass smile and dropped his head forward, sinking his right leg backward to offer the secretary a condescending and pretentious bow.

"Terribly sorry to have trounced what I'm sure would have been a tremendously ostentatious, not to mention effective offensive, my friend." Said the doctor, with every trace of sharing only affable relations with the dark haired man. "But I'm sure you can understand if I perhaps preserve the smallest of reservations concerning any further desire to see my body rent apart a second time."

"A reasonable concern of course." Tatsumi replied and through his face was deeply etched by sincere feelings of dislike; his voice betrayed nothing but civility. "As you are already no doubt aware, I have precious few reservations when it comes to people I do not like. And for whatever the reason, you tend to rub me the wrong way." A telltale curl of his upper lip concluded his carefully selected words.

Muraki chuckled, raising his bloodstained chin just enough to make eye contact, which I found to be an incredibly bold move for someone in the defensive stance. "Yes, I do seem to bring that out in people, don't I? I can only conclude that my personality is somehow contributory…" He considered Tatsumi with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "And yet… I can't help but wonder, Tatsumi-san, whether this blatant, almost embarrassing show of aggression is entirely… how you say… strictly business?"

"That," Tatsumi said, in a voice as cold as his eyes. "Is none of your business."

Muraki seemed disappointed that Tatsumi had failed to rise to his purposeful provocation but did his best to keep his emotions circumspectly concealed. I now knew him well enough to feel confident in my interpretations of his moods. When Muraki wasn't able to overcome someone physically, he would change tact and confront him or her on an intellectual basis. At core level, though he may have appeared to be anything but to those that did not understand him, Muraki was truly a childish person who hated to lose. What I think irritated him the most about Tatsumi was that for the first time in his satisfactory self-assured existence, he was forced into contest with an individual that not only harmonized with him physically (almost uncannily so) but in metaphysical powers and intelligence also. Muraki had always considered himself a cut above the rest of the human race and didn't much like that Tatsumi could match wits, barbs and punches with him. Tatsumi too, must have been profoundly incensed by this.

To Tatsumi's response, Muraki laughed but it was more like a throaty bark, an aggressive nuance preceding instinctive aggression, a natural response when people find themselves cornered by an unfavorable situation. "So it seems! But I assure you there is no business I am more intimately involved with than the business of death itself, Shadow Shifter. Don't presume to retract my attentions in such an infantile manner, Tatsumi-san! What brings you here, if not for the very reason that stands before us right now?"

"Shut up!" Tatsumi roared and Muraki grinned, having succeeded in pushing the composed secretary beyond all mental restraint. "Shut your mouth, you egotistical degenerate!"

Muraki put a hand to his heart as though physically wounded. "Such eloquent use of offensive verse, my friend! I fear you may have injured my delicate sensitivity with such an articulate barb!" He huffed that sarcastic, dog like laugh again. Then his eyes furrowed and I could see anger beginning to emerge on his face, as though a rose had suddenly bloomed in the exposure of darkness. "Egotistical, you say? Egotistical?" He stood up straight now, chest distended, pretences abandoned. "I have never fronted to the world anything other than what I am at my core. Perhaps if you had been so honest yourself, Tatsumi-san, it would you standing here beside that which you covet. Instead, you let him come to me." His anger was suddenly overflowing into his outward extremeties, dictating the movements of his hands, feet and arms. "Just what are you?! Who the Hell do you presume to be?!"

He was enraged. Furious. And I could understand why, even before he said it himself. Could see just what he hoped to do to Tatsumi, in sowing these seeds of doubt within his already unselfconfident mind.

"If you truly cared for Asato, it would never have come to this! He wouldn't have given his heart to a murderer like me. Why did you let him fall so low? Egotistical, evil though I may be, were I in your shoes, I would never have allowed him to succumb to my graces!"

"Muraki, please!" I pleaded, tears pooling on the lower lids of my eyes. Wakaba had her hands pressed to the curve of Tatsumi's lower back and I could hear her sobbing angrily.

"Be quiet!" She yelled suddenly. Her tear stained face appearing around Tatsumi's body. Muraki seemed to have forgotten she was there, because his eye widened in response to her dramatic proclamation. "Don't you dare judge him! You have no right! He's no such person to abandon anyone! It's only Tsuzuki's fault he's where he is now, no one else's. Least of all Seiichirou's!"

Her eyes snapped open incredibly wide and she gasped, having actively registered what she had just said. A cord twanged painfully in my heart.

"Tsuzuki… Tsuzuki I'm sorry!" She said tearfully, waving a hand urgently at her mouth, as though wishing she could fan the words back to where they came from. "I don't know why I said that!"

I sighed deeply, eyes lowered. "It's okay. … It's true." I knew it was.

Muraki looked at Wakaba a while and in response to her outburst, addressed Tatsumi instead. "I suppose you will remain ignorant to the sway of her heart as well."

Cruel though Muraki undoubtedly was, you could not deny his acuity. This was the first time he had set eye(s) on Wakaba and already he had grasped upon her delicate constitution. As expected, he had hit the nail squarely on the head and Wakaba retreated back behind Tatsumi with a flagrant blush.

The secretary himself was so obviously offended that words actually failed him. I could see the disbelief quaking the firm line of his jaw. As such, he responded in the most comforting manner available to him.

BLAM!

Muraki's cheek split wide open as he barely avoided the projectile force of the newly shifted shadows. He glared sidelong to take into account the oozing cut that had come close to penetrating deep enough to reveal his bottom row of teeth.

" … I don't see Mr. Tsuzuki desiring me as being of any particular offense to you." He finally said, after a long, contemplative silence. "Having concluded that this is strictly business." He finished quite audaciously.

BLAM!

This time, Muraki lost almost half his eyebrow thanks to his cheek. He touched his fingers to the second cut and then idly examined his blood.

"Call me peculiar but I feel suddenly and unaccountably obliged to stop talking." He said, lightly. Tatsumi bit his lip and nodded, in an almost self-aggrandizing fashion.

"Good idea." He glanced back and forth between the two of us. "Tsuzuki… tell me what exactly you have been doing with him."

"That," Muraki said curtly. "Is none of your business."

"I grow weary of you!" Tatsumi yelled and with a clap of his hands, sent a pressure force of darkness forward. I only had a second to think about it but concentrated on the dividing force and slashed my finger out, throwing a shield between them. It wasn't strong enough to stop Tatsumi's shadows completely but rather created such resistance that the points of the skewers ground to a halt an inch before they would have jabbed into Muraki's face. With a second wave of my left hand, I extinguished them completely.

"Enough Tatsumi!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Muraki make a harried gesture and without thinking, erected a secondary shield that blocked his attack. "And that goes for you too!"

Tatsumi turned to me and he seemed to me to be clenching his teeth so hard, that they actually made a noise. "How could you do this to me?" He seemed suddenly embarrassed and rushed to correct himself. "To Kurosaki… Didn't you think of us at all?!"

Though I had previously gone to great lengths to avoid having to explain myself to anyone (least of all to myself) I had finally run up against the wall that I had been rapidly approaching all this time. I had no choice… but where was one to begin such an explanation? My mind still swam in a dizzy haze and I fought back a meaty gag from the ever-present nausea, accountable from the fact that more than half my blood was now swimming through Muraki's system.

"Tatsumi… I did this… I didn't tell you because I knew… I knew you wouldn't understand…" I fluttered my hands about, as though this may have aided in the reasoning of my elucidation. "I did it so Muraki would take the curse from Hisoka and wouldn't hurt anyone else." Well, that wasn't an outright lie. That had been true enough, back when Muraki had first plucked me off of the street and into his living room.

Tatsumi glowered at me. "Tsuzuki don't insult me! I know you better than that!"

I wasn't good at handling pressure under any situation and this would have to be one of the more stressful situations I had been in, in a long time. God knows Muraki wasn't much help. Well, it's true! You weren't! You just stood there and left it all up to me!

"Tatsumi," I clutched at my hair, closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to meet his gaze. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Please. You've got to understand the circumstan-"

"Whether you intended this or not is hardly of any comfort to me at this stage." Tatsumi's face was starting to go red and blue veins were standing out on his temples and neck. "I just…" Words seemed to fail him for a moment; such was the extremity of his emotions. "I can't understand how this could have happened! Do you… have feelings for him? Or are you just so desperate for a fuck that anyone who would have you would do?"

My despair abated at these words and a primal fury ensconced my senses again. "Of course not! How can you say that?!"

"You've given me no reason to believe anything to the contrary."

"Bullshit!" I screeched, striding up to Tatsumi and thrusting my finger against his chest. "Bullshit, that's a load of crap and you know it Tatsumi!"

"Is it?" He said, sounding disgustedly smug and contrary to my ears. I was envisioned by the sudden desire to drive my fist through his glasses and see whether any of the shards would embed themselves in those smarmy, sapphire blue orbs. It was a desire I had to drastically reign in or else risk becoming as cruel and sadistic as I was ever likely to become.

"If it was just about sex then for fucks sake, I had a choice between you, between Aki, or even the Count!" Not that I would, I added mentally, hardly feeling that this would add to my point if I were to say it out loud.

This didn't appear to have the effect on Tatsumi that I was hoping. Not that I could have hoped for much by that stage and yet, to see Tatsumi's eyebrows rise in the center whilst sloping at the ends, only made it all too clear that I was not winning this passionate debate. "So… what you're saying is that this is more than just a physical thing…"

My internal frustrations became so overwhelming that I actually started tugging at my hair again, almost pulling out great tufts in the process. "Please… we can't have this conversation right now. Hisoka…" I grasped onto my partners' name like a drowning man to a life raft. "He'll be back any second. Think of how this is going to affect him!"

"Why? You didn't." Something seemed to drop heavily in my chest as Tatsumi intuited what had been painfully obvious to me all along. Something I was terrified of hearing, because to hear from someone else would only serve to establish how obvious it was. How true it was. "You didn't give a damn how any of this was going to make anyone else feel. All you cared about was satisfying your own selfish desires." My breaths were coming hard and fast with every word he hurled at me and I feared I was on the midst of a panic attack. "This might be the only way Hisoka was ever going to find out what you were doing!"

I had nothing to say to this. He was right of course, devastating though it was to hear it from someone else. I couldn't say anything to defend myself from such accusations and yet my immediate concern remained to remove Muraki from the situation. I couldn't relax a hair, thinking Hisoka would be dashing back at any moment. The ten minutes by now were up. "Let Muraki leave." I tried to speak firmly, in such a way that deflected disagreement. "He's not going to hurt anyone else. Are you?" I said pointedly.

Muraki shook his head and held up his right hand. "Scouts honor."

"You see?" I bleated, turning back to Tatsumi with tension in my voice as well as my face. "I swear, Tatsumi. I swear. Jesus Christ, just please…" Only now did the tears start to roll down my face. "Let him go before Hisoka gets here."

Tatsumi threw his hands up in the air. "How am I supposed to take that to Enma, Tsuzuki, answer me that? That I let him walk away, based on your word alone that he wasn't going to do anything else? It's too late for that! He's a murderer. He's killed possibly hundreds of people! And you expect me to just… let him walk away?! How can I do that, Tsuzuki?! How?! If you know how I can do that, then now's the time to tell me!"

I dithered for something to say but came up with nothing. It was only now that Muraki actually conceded to jump in.

"It's true that I'm a murderer. Or rather… I was. I have never denied that. And perhaps what you're saying is true. Perhaps a leopard doesn't change its' spots. But that's me… as for Mr. Tsuzuki, I would appreciate it if you did not lump him in the same category as myself." He smiled down at me, sincere affection blooming on his now thankfully fuller features. "He is truly… a good person. Do not make him out to be the villain of the piece, Tatsumi-san. That is hardly fair now is it?"

Tatsumi appeared simply mortified that Muraki had the audacity to say such a thing. "You are in no position to lecture me on what is or is not fair, doctor."

Muraki chuckled softly. "No, I suppose I'm not. But I know you to be a better person than I am. So you are capable of these things that I cannot even pretend to understand."

Tatsumi chose to ignore him, rather than think about what he had said too deeply. If he had, it might have forced him to act in a way he would have preferred to have otherwise done. "Tsuzuki… this… man, he… he's murdered souls from Hong Kong to Hokkaido. He raped, cursed and killed Kurosaki. He tried to kill you… and worse! He tried to steal your sanity from you!"

"I know that." Even to my own ears I sounded like a stubborn child that simply refused to be told.

"So why-" He was interrupted by a soft thud that issued from behind me and I realized with shameful lucidity that it was already too late.

"- why can you stand by him after everything he's done and will do?" Hisoka soft voice filled in the rest of Tatsumi's incisive sentence.

I was silent for a long time, knowing that in that single moment, I had broken something that could never be repaired. "I… I don't know!" I buried my face into my hands with a sob. "I don't know and don't you think I've tried to figure it out?! I've gone through Hell trying to understand this and I can't give you an answer because I don't have one to give. All I know is that…" I looked beyond my shoulder and submerged myself profoundly into Hisoka's green eyes, as deep and unforgiving as the sea. "I need him."

From the corner of my sight, Tatsumi continued to observe me in quiet introspection, head cocked to the side pensively. "… In the same way that you need us?" It was a heartbreaking question and one I shall never forget for as long as I live.

"What…?" I said as I wiped at my eyes, not sure I had heard him right the first time.

Muraki, whose own eyes were narrowed in deep dislike, didn't seem to have a doubt in his mind exactly what Tatsumi was up to. "Don't you dare." He sounded dangerous.

"It's a simple question." Tatsumi's voice was soft, but he spoke just as threateningly if you knew how to read him like I did.

Muraki's visible eye widened so much that the upper lid nearly slipped behind his eyeball. "Don't you dare… make him choose!" Not bothering to rein his emotions in, he lunged suddenly, fangs sliding down and up. I was forced to pull him back again, begging him softly to calm down as I sank my forehead against the sleeve of his blood soaked shirt. He was able to pretend he hadn't heard me, so soft my voice was. "You will not put him in that position, do you hear me! You will not!"

"He's right!" I said, feeling it unfair for me to agree with Muraki when Tatsumi had so much more of a justified reason for his motives. "It's not fair, you can't right now – not this second – we… let's discuss it later, Tatsumi-"

Tatsumi's voice was unnaturally calm, as though he already predicted his loss of this conversation and was simply going through the motions in the same way a hired actor might read from a script. "You can't have your cake and eat it too, Tsuzuki, not this time. That's not how life works." He met my eyes calmly and it was almost more terrifying than when he was angry. To see him speaking to me so serenely… I can't really explain why. It just unnerved me. "You can't have him and expect that the rest of us will be just okay with it, you'll have to make a choice."

The reality of the situation seemed to suddenly hit me. I was so emotional, I wasn't sure just who I was most upset with anymore. "Please…" Tears streamed freely down my face and I hurriedly swiped at them, feeling it was almost insulting to cry. "Don't… do this to me…" My heart suddenly palpitated wildly and I clutched at my chest, skipping a number of breaths. "My heart…" Anxiety was starting to settle in my chest. I recognized the symptoms. I was having a panic attack. "I can't…" I huffed, feeling my knees collapse beneath me and I had to quickly throw my right hand out to catch the ground as it rushed up to meet me. "I can't… Oh God… this can't be happening…"

I felt Muraki's hands grasp my elbows and his soothing voice move against me like a manta. "Calm down… just breath. It's only a mental restriction – push through it, move beyond it-"

That anger came rushing back but this time, rather than directing it at Tatsumi, I turned on the one person whose fault it truly was that I was in this situation. My mind was at the end of its' tether… I'm sure I would have bitten the hand that fed me, the state I was in.

I pointed my finger at Muraki as I backed away from him. "Leave me alone already! Don't you touch me, I hate you!"

"You don't mean that…" Muraki murmured, face creasing slightly. "Calm down."

"Calm down?!" I screamed. I could see the other Guardians looking on at me with varying degrees of pity, apprehension and disgust. Terazuma, I noticed, didn't appear the least bit surprised and I remembered how it had been him who had kept my secret. I would have been strangely touched under any other circumstances. "How am I supposed to do that?! This is the end of my life! If I wasn't going to Hell before, I definitely am now. I've murdered myself all over again! Whatever my friends felt for me is ruined now, it's gone, all because you couldn't leave me the Hell alone!! Because of your stupid obsession!" I ran at him, blinded by desperation and shoved him hard in the chest, rocking him backwards on the balls of his feet. This made me even angrier. I wanted to see him thrown backwards, hit his head on the ground and bleed to death again. Every word I was saying was the truth. It was all fuel to my emotions and I was running full throttle on a full tank. "I'm sick of you! Sick of hating myself because I feel something for you – because no one else would until now, that's all this is!" I shoved him again but still he refused to fall over and I uttered an angry roar at being unable to accomplish this one, small feat. "Get away from me! Go home! If it weren't for you none of this would have happened! It's all your fault!"

Something astonishing happened then; something I had never expected to see in my wildest dreams. I thought for an instant that Muraki had thrown a mirror between us and I was looking at myself in a moment of pure, unfiltered pain and weakness. The anger actually left me for a moment as I tried to get around what was happening. There was no mirror but it was plain to see just why I had thought there had been. Muraki didn't at all look like himself. His hands were clutching his face, much in the same manner that I did whence unable to cope with confounding circumstances and he was backing away from me with tears in his visible eye. I was stumped. Absolutely, positively, completely stumped. To see Muraki behave just as I would have in his position… it were as though our roles were violently reversed. As if the sheet had been stripped away, revealing a child beneath what you thought had been a strong and untouchable adult. It made me feel ashamed somehow, as though it were something I should have been aware of all along. And I realized with a jolt that it was.

"Stop… stop please…" To say he looked terrified was an understatement. "Don't you understand, Mr. Tsuzuki…? You… you were the only thing that kept me going through my childhood… the only thing…" I saw his eye widen suddenly. "That made sense… my… my mother. She…"

**Muraki**

My memories returned in the turn of a second.

– Not Saki's face above mine, but hers.

The cut in my leg from climbing the tree… she stitched it together with white cord and needle. Nothing to numb the pain. A doll doesn't feel pain…

And her hand… her fingers sliding into secretive place…

**Tsuzuki**

"- in those times, you were the only salvation I had… Mr. Tsuzuki… Oh God… I remember." His eye line fell away from my own and traced unknown patterns across the ground. He lapsed into silence and there was nothing more to say because, in a way, everything had been said.

Tatsumi took advantage of this silence and stepped toward me, reaching out to encircle my bicep with his strong hand. "Come on Tsuzuki. We'll discuss this back at the Ministry in further detail. I'm sure Enma will grant you a pardon-"

I narrowed my eyes, finding that I was somehow repulsed by the very idea that Tatsumi might touch me and smacked his arm away before he could get that far. "Yamirou! No! Why should I be excused?!" I actually had to pause to consider what I had just said. I'd used the self-referencing noun boku in my sentence, which was uncharacteristic of me. I usually said watashiwa, which was less masculine, less firm, less powerful. It never, ever came naturally to me to use boku. So… why had I started then? Hisoka too, seemed to have picked up on it because I saw his brow rise at the conclusion of my sentence.

"Boku? That's awfully bold use of expression for you, Tsuzuki."

I glowered at him. "Whatever, Hisoka. The point is boku wa…" I cleared my throat. "Watashiwa… (I) deserve to be here… with Muraki." And as I said this, I moved to stand beside him, unable to avoid the look of pure shock and pleasure that flooded his pale features.

Hisoka stared at me with a look of unadulterated horror. There was no other way to describe it. His teeth were clenched together and his eyes wide. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. He looked to me like a person that was about to be found out for a serious crime, the way perhaps I should have looked in his situation. "No you don't." He insisted, his voice trembling. I suppose he was frightened at the prospect of losing the one person he felt understood him best. "He's a monster. And you… you're human."

My eyes were beginning to sting from my tears and yet I couldn't seem to keep them from falling. "Saying it over and over again isn't going to make it true, Hisoka, so please stop." I lowered my head with a sniff, feeling everyone's pitying eyes on the back of my neck. I couldn't face them I was so ashamed. "I'm not human! I've never been human and I know that now."

Tatsumi's voice was thick with disgust as he turned accusingly to Muraki."You… You've poisoned him."

"He's done nothing!" I yelled, forcing myself to face up to him, against my better judgment. "Wakaba was right… it's… it's been me all alone, don't you understand?! I'm no different than Muraki. How can I… how can any of us stand here and doll out judgment like we know better? Us, each of us, are nothing more than hypocrites! And I'm the very worst because I took life before it was even in my job description. Seventy years ago… in Tokyo… I went insane." I sobbed holding onto the sides of my head, fearing that in revealing myself to them this way I might simultaneously free and destroy myself. I had to make them understand. It was the only way they would release me… the only way I could be free from it all. But to do that, they had to hate me. I had to disgust them as much as I could, so that they wouldn't want me around any more. "Insane with grief at having lost my sister, the one person who cared for me in this whole stickin' world! I didn't want a world that she wasn't a part of. I couldn't see that other people deserved to exist, just as much as she did. I had blinders on to everything else but what concerned me. What I took to be right. And so I…" My mind flashed back to the murders. I had to think on them, examine them to the full capacity of my memory if I wanted them to truly comprehend the monstrosity that was my past. "I need you to understand, so you'll finally see, you'll finally get just why I can stand here next to Muraki. You guys have never known the me other than the me I have shown you. Even when you saw me despair at Kyoto University Hisoka, you still didn't understand who I was back then and how purely evil I was. If you'd known me, you wouldn't be standing there now making excuses for me. You'd be looking at me, the same way you're looking at Muraki now and it's not fair, it's not FAIR –" I defined the importance of these words with a stamp of my bloodstained shoe. "– to differentiate between us!" I sobbed with anger and stared out at them with tear filled eyes. It was like staring through a shattered stain glass window. "I blamed everyone but myself. Everyone. The doctors refused to come and treat my sick sister because of me. Because they were all afraid of me, they all hated me. I was the villages' sick and twisted little beast. Their private joke and ever present fear. After I…" I bit my lip as the pain associated with that evening came rushing back with a vengeance. "… buried her… I …" I scratched burning lines down my face, almost unable to cope with the disturbingly detailed images flashing across my mind. "– Oh god… I couldn't be there, not in that world, not anymore. As far as I was concerned, there just couldn't be a world without her. How could the world possibly keep turning when she was beneath the ground?!"

"Mr. Tsuzuki…" Muraki's voice pulled me back into reality and I was grateful he had spoken. Just by saying my name he prevented me from being lost in the tundra of my past sorrow. I nodded from behind my hands, eyes crinkled shut and was able, with his small comfort, to continue forth.

"That such a good person had to die, when so many bastards got to live… For the first time…" I looked at my hand and then held it palm up, fingers curved like a claw. Crazed laughter started rippling out from my chest, residual shards of the power and insanity I'd once entertained. Once… when I'd been just as mad as Muraki. "I felt my power and all that I was capable of… I used my powers… and I used… my bare hands to the effect of a thousand blades. And everyone died. I stopped… every single heart from beating. I made sure that each person died a tormented death. And I didn't make any allowance for any child, animal, woman or elderly person. They all had to die. They all had to suffer because Ruka had to die in such a way." I continued to laugh, crazy, wild and powerful and even Muraki was beginning to look unnerved by it. "Yeah, you heard me! I killed them all! Why? Because I'm a hateful person that wanted justice for my sister. I wanted to create a world with none of those hurtful people in it, people that wouldn't judge another person for being different. I wanted to make that world a tribute to her." There was a madness to my features then I'm sure. Suddenly morphing from perverse mirth to anger, I lunged in their direction like a snake going for the heel of a passing animal. "Sou da. What makes any of us, think we have the right to stand here and cast aspersions upon Muraki's character?! I know Muraki has done terrible things … but he's only a product of what has been done to him. Victims can become sinners and Muraki is a victim, as hard as it is for you guys to see that! He has a curse on him, just like the one he put on Hisoka and he can't stop hurting other people while that curse exists. Don't you see? We have to help him! It's the best way to stop him! What he's done to you, Hisoka, was monstrous I know and we can't pretend otherwise. But I'm a monster too and I deserve to be punished just as much, if not more. And if you kill Muraki now… you'll become murderers too. And you guys don't want to live in the same world that we do."

Tatsumi cleared his throat and it was obvious to me at least, that he was in great mental anguish. "Tsuzuki…" He seemed to struggle for any means possible in which my actions might possibly be defended. As though he were trying to see a crack in the persuasive argument I had erected, secure and formidable as a concrete wall. "Back then you were sick. Ill of the mind and entirely absorbed by your pain. That's ever more of an excuse then what this…" He pointed his finger at Muraki, words failing him as he tried to come up with an accurate enough term in which to describe him. "-man, and I use the term loosely, has. You… do not, live in the same world as him, Tsuzuki."

I shook my head, almost aggrieved by how desperately Tatsumi wanted to believe the best of me. "My mind was sick and his body is cursed. It's no different. I do live in the same world. I've killed just as many, if not more innocent people than him. And you know that!" They tried to avoid my gaze as I looked at each of my colleagues individually. "You all know! And I'm… so tired of trying to pretend otherwise. I'm old, Tatsumi." I felt old even as I said it. "I know I don't look it but I certainly feel it. I've lived a long life feeling nothing short of a hypocrite. But all that stops now." Eyes narrowed, I moved over and stood with my back against Muraki's front, guarding him only from any direct attack. "Killing Muraki won't solve anything. If you still decide you want to, you'll have to god damn well go through me first. Because I'm not moving." They all stared at me in horror and I felt Muraki's breath grow heavier against my neck. I don't think even he believed the words that were coming out of my mouth. "Muraki's just one small branch on a much larger tree and we need to start hacking at the roots, rather than just… trimming back the buds. Because they only grow back bigger and more violent than ever."

Tatsumi gaped at me wordlessly for a moment and then looked around at the other Guardians as though someone else might possibly leap in and talk some sense into me. When he realized that they had nothing to add and were just as incapable as he was of taking control, I suppose he saw no choice but to reassert authority. He turned back to me and I was shocked to see just how incredibly white the whites of his eyes were.

"I… can't possibly believe what I am hearing." His eye line darted about without focus. "Tsuzuki… surely you're not serious."

I could no longer look at him. I wasn't worthy of meeting his gaze and so I offered him the only respect I could in this situation and as I nodded, kept my head bowed, forcing my own gaze towards the churned up, bloodstained ground beneath my feet.

Tatsumi remained deeply shocked by my admission and for a long, agonizing minute, everything in the backyard of Ukyou Sakagumi was distressingly still and silent. It could not have been more effective had someone picked up the universal remote and hit mute. I could feel Muraki's heart pounding against the wall of my back. The skin of my neck was warm beneath his paced, heavy breathing. Unnerved by what could possibly occur when this silence abated, I tried to reassure myself by sliding my hand back and tentatively placing it on Muraki's hip. He wasn't fool enough to further compromise my position by touching me in return but I did feel a slight dictation of the hairs in my scalp, signifying that perhaps he had grazed his nose or chin against the top of my head. He seemed to want to express his gratitude towards me, in the most minimal way possible.

This was more than enough however, to incite Tatsumi and with a twisted sneer, he broke through the silence as though it were fractured glass. "This is madness!" He lunged forward; now as openly volatile as I myself had been at the very outset of that conversation. "How can you possibly stand there and attempt to justify anything this man has done?! I understand more than you realize the terrible things that you have done but you have paid a life times debt in attempting to redeem yourself. You've shown sincere remorse. What remorse has Muraki shown?!"

Now I was the one scrambling for a justification. "The past few months he has killed no one, Tatsumi, no one-"

Tatsumi groaned angrily, his face going almost purple in his frustration. "You absolute naïve, simple minded fool, Asato Tsuzuki! You are standing by a profoundly intelligent man, who knows how to direct circumstances to his own benefit! If you asked him to stand on his head and cluck like a chicken I do not doubt he would have done it, if you granted him certain liberties in return."

"You think that's what I've done? You think I've been sleeping with him in return for his good behavior?!" I shouted, my anger fluctuating again.

"Of course I think that!" Tatsumi yelled back. "What else am I supposed to think?"

"I'll tell you what I think – " I was so angry now, that I went forward with every intention of wounding Tatsumi as much as I could. "I think you're mad as Hell for all the wrong reasons. Well, news flash, Tatsumi but you never got in line! Perhaps if you had made your feelings clear sooner-"

Shadows flared up around Tatsumi as though fire had roared to life on a bed of fuel and he almost disappeared within the darkness. I fell back against Muraki's body and he grabbed my arms to keep me on my feet. "Silence! I have no reason to defend myself here! It is you who should be explaining yourself and you have the audacity to try and psychoanalyze me? How dare you!"

I tried to be brave in the face of so many shadows, all unbridled and driven in correspondence to Tatsumi's fury. "Well how dare you assume that my integrity was for sale in such a way?! Muraki requested nothing of me other than my companionship!" Muraki bowed his head, as though this would perhaps add weight to my statement. I don't think Tatsumi took so much as a lick of notice.

"Oh? I see." He said, hands on hips and setting his lips in a grim fashion as the shadows diminished about his formidable stature. "So, you were simply something of a geisha then, were you? Entertainment minus the physical benefits. And how long were you planning to continue with his little engagement before you were planning on cluing the rest of us in?"

I set my features as firmly as his own, unwilling to back down. But I could feel my composure starting to crack and my chin began to wobble as my emotions took supremacy of my outward extremeties. "Until such a point that I could figure out how to free Muraki from the curse." I felt exhausted suddenly. Physically, emotionally, mentally. It hit me with such dominance it was all I could do just to stride away from the center of the conversation and seat myself down on doorstep of the house. I felt the pressure settle down on the back of my neck and for the first time that day, I surrendered myself over to the feeling and dropped my face down into my hands, overcome by everything that I had experienced. "Please… if you think you know me, try and understand why I felt the need to do this… I can't try anymore to make you believe in me… I'm tired." I whimpered through the cage of my fingers. "I'm tired of fighting all the time… most of all to understand myself." I forced my hand across my eyes, clearing them so I could offer my colleagues the decency of my adherence. "I'm sorry Tatsumi. Hisoka… I'm so, so sorry."

"Mr. Tsuzuki-" Muraki made as though to move to my side but in having separated myself from him in the first place, I'd forged between us a distance that could easily be breached. And in this time when Tatsumi seemed unable to say anything more, it was Hisoka who took control, simply by stepping into that area between us and blocking me off from Muraki's further influence.

"You stay away from him." Hisoka had always been an impassioned boy but I'd never heard him speak quite so coldly as he did to Muraki. Emotional as we all were, I couldn't say that I found this to be very wise and I could see right away, by the barely witnessed wrinkle that appeared between Muraki's brows, that he did not appreciate it in the least.

"Boy…" His voice could have frozen the blood in your veins. "Any other time I would indulge your petulant whimsies but today, I am sincerely not in the mood." His teeth were distended, a result of too great an infusion of power and it only served to render him even more grisly in his cold anger.

Hisoka glared back and despite everything, I couldn't suppress the feeling of pride I suddenly had for him. Here he was, facing up to the person he both hated and feared in equal measure, the person responsible for his great suffering. For the end of his life. And his only thought, in that moment, was protecting me from this self-same person.

"Going to tear me apart, Muraki?" He made a brave attempt at scoffing. "Like you haven't already been there, done that. You don't think I know what you're up to? This is no different from Kyoto. Mess him up so much that he doesn't know whether he's coming or going and then do whatever the Hell you want with him?" He sighed deeply, shutting his eyes for a moment as though what he were about to say next, caused him some great internal pain. "Now, I know there's something wrong with you, Muraki. I can sense that darkness in you … and I… wish I could understand it. I wish I could sympathize. But the things you have done and not just to me." I could see him fighting through his anger and despair. "What do you want with Tsuzuki? Why the Hell won't you just leave him alone?! Can't you see what you're doing to him?" He was gesturing at me wildly and I was sobbing so hard I couldn't say anything, could neither protest, nor agree. "Or are you just so selfish that it doesn't matter how he feels, just so long as you get what you want? If you want us to understand you… why don't you try sympathizing for a change?"

I'm not sure Muraki knew how to respond to this. An entire range of emotions crossed his face; anger, humiliation, sadness… Standing there beneath the rain, I couldn't tell if he was crying or not but his lips were parted as though he could not decide whether to scream, wail or sink his teeth into Hisoka's neck. His lips trembled and he bit them, seeming to come to the temporary conclusion that it was anger that he was feeling and with teeth grinding together he advanced forward two steps before indecision flashed through his remaining eye and he halted his momentum. His eyelashes fluttered miserably and he turned his head sidelong, chin quavering again.

"… I …" He ran a hand across his face, wiping away the strands of mercury colored hair that were clinging to his damp skin. "For so long… in my miserable life… the hope that I might one day find this person …" His teeth had finally retracted and I suppose he had finally managed to rein in some control of his emotions. "Mr. Tsuzuki was a patient of my Grandfather's… I found his file when I was just a boy and when I saw his face I knew."

Hisoka altered the line of his head slightly, seeming to be curious against his prejudice. "Knew what?"

Muraki wouldn't raise his face but I could still see his jaw trembling on account of his despair. "… That regardless of any hardship I might face, I had to find him. Everything else became second priority… became less important somehow." He raised his fingers and looked at them, as though suddenly realizing exactly what it was those hands had done. What they were still capable of doing. "I suppose that potential was always in my blood. Even if I wasn't cursed, I suppose I would have always turned out to be a cold person. As it was… being born from a dead woman didn't exactly bestow upon me a veritable deal of positive potential." He bore a grim smile as he revealed to us this strange, personal part of himself. Hisoka's eyes were narrowed. He was a person then that seemed to have come close to a solution of the conundrum that had long since plagued him.

"What are you?" He asked softly and so dramatically that I nearly laughed for the cliché it was becoming.

Muraki's silver eye seemed to glow with a light all its' own as he finally raised his head and met Hisoka's questing gaze."… The son of a Moroaică. **(1)** Bound by her ancient contract to the red moon, forever demanding a sacrifice and eternally starving to quench an unquenchable longing. Being in that house with that woman… now I don't expect any of you to feel sorry for me, in fact…" He sniggered to himself and it sounded as raspy as a smokers laugh should. "I would be repulsed if you did. Because I am sure you are all familiar with a miserable existence yourselves. But what I do hope you will all understand is that I am one of the deadliest creatures in the world. But right now…" His face revealed only the smallest glimmer of emotion. "– I'm frightened. I'm frightened that you're going to ruin my first taste of happiness for me." His hand come to rest on his left hand side where I knew his scar lay. "Before Mr. Tsuzuki stabbed me… I was a man… less than a man really… who killed without thought to the consequences of my actions, unless of course they were of some use to me. Now, I cannot draw breath without pause for consideration." He allowed as a moment in which to digest his words before continuing. "I love Asato. I love him without wanting to, which should be assurance enough of just how sincere my feelings are. Before he stabbed me, I would never have faced you in a fight, Mr. Tatsumi. But today… I did. Because… before Kyoto, I had no reason to jeapordize my own life. Today, I did." He slapped the palm of his hand firmly to the wall of his chest. "I want to give Asato Tsuzuki a clean life. And he couldn't have that with me busting a cap in your crown. You and I and he all know who and what I am. A killer. A cold-blooded murderer. But a murderer who right now, in this moment, would only be too happy to kill you, for – the first time in his miserable fucking life – the right reason."

"There's a right reason behind taking the life of anyone?" Tatsumi asked, apparently unimpressed.

There wasn't a hint of humor in Muraki's face as he leaned forward, giving his full attention to the secretary. It wasn't like him to swear, so I gathered that he was only doing so now in an effort to shock and or convince. "I don't give a fucking damn that you just gutted me a like a fish. I don't care. That is in-conse-quential as far as I am concerned. What I do care about, is that you mean to intrude upon my arrangement with the person that I have grown to love." The hard lines in his face faded as he looked back over to me. "However… knowing all of this only brings me to one conclusion." He turned back to Hisoka. "That you, my boy, are right."

I think my heart must have stopped for a moment.

"What?!" I gasped, not sure that I had heard right. A million thoughts were racing through my head, a million possibilities, none of them good, that could only come from Muraki having admitted this. I stared at him through matted wet lashes but he wouldn't meet my eyes, having his own still trained upon the boy whose life he had ended in such a cruel manner.

"I do love Asato Tsuzuki. And I've done a terrible thing to a person I love. I'm… a bad person for it. I realize that now, above all else." He moved around Hisoka, meeting no resistance on account of having reduced his threat level somewhat and finally met my desperate expression with loving munifice. "Darling…" He placed his fingers gently beneath my chin and carressed it. "Go home."

"Muraki?!" I sobbed.

He pressed a cool finger against my lips. "If you stay with me, you're only going to get sicker. And I don't want to see you waste away. Not you. You deserve to be happy now, more than ever." He leaned back, taking his hand away. "You won't get that with me. You'll always be second guessing yourself. You'll have compromised your morals, your ethics. And those are the very things that made me fall in love with you in the first place. I don't want to see that happen. So go home."

I scrambled to my feet, whimpering useless protests and grasping for his hands as he withdrew them. I couldn't believe he could do this to me! Having done what I had done… stood before him and defended him, openly betrayed my feelings to my friends and colleagues, how could he leave me there to suffer the consequences? Didn't he understand? I only had him now! No one else could forgive me but him. I stumbled forward and tried to grab a hold of him but he backed away so quickly that I stumbled over and landed jaringly on my knees. "Ah! But Muraki -!!"

In the midst of walking away, he turned to look over his shoulder. "Don't you understand? You're worthless to me now. There's nothing more I can take from you. You can consider our agreement fulfilled." His words hit my heart as though he had driven a knife directly through it and I stared up at him, my whole body shaking, my heart breaking. I'd never been so terrified of losing anyone in my life… Being abandoned by Tatsumi didn't hurt nearly quite so badly as the simple prospect that Muraki was going to put his back to me and disappear from my afterlife. "You are no longer bound to endure my company. I release you." He looked down upon me, with no emotion present in his face whatsoever. "I'll love you until the day that I die, Mr. Tsuzuki … but the next time we meet, you will be my enemy again."

"NO!" It burst out of my shaking body, raw primal and unhindered. I grabbed a hold of his ankle to keep him from leaving, clinging on to him with everything I had. But still he refused to look at me. "Muraki, we can help you. We can get rid of the curse, so come with me. You can be free too. You can start over, just like I did." Tears were rolling down my face and I was being so candid with him, I became momentarily enraged by that unshakeable expression on his smooth, handsome face. "LOOK AT ME!"

"… Not everyone get's a second chance, beloved." He said, unmoved by my outburst. "People like you are… special." He finally deigned to meet my eyes but he still offered me nothing but apathy. "… thankyou for your kindness. But now, you need to be selfish and do what's best for you. It's what you deserve." He reached down and gently pried my limp fingers away from his trouser leg. We stared into one another's eyes for a long time and no one dared speak. No one but us could feel that connection and yet everyone seemed to respect it anyway.

"Asato…?" He said finally.

I nodded, biting my lip in an attempt to hold back the sobs threatening to escape. "Mmm-hmm?"

Only now did he permit any emotion to come through and it was so profound that it made my heart ache all over again. "You made me happy."

He had absorbed enough of my energy to teleport and this he did, turning with almost dramatic ease into a burning white light, so strong that it nearly burnt the retina's from my eyes. I reached out for him, grasping with fingers that burnt beneath the heat of his transfigural relocation but all I received for my efforts was a handful of warm, white feathers.

To me, at that moment, the whole world could have fallen down around me and I wouldn't care. Clutching the handful of feathers against my chest, I collapsed face first against the ground, terrified of defacing myself further before my fellow Guardians and yet unable to compose myself for even a second. My sobs gradually warped into ever increasing wails and my heart continued to beat, even though it was broken in two. I was only vaguely aware of Hisoka's arms around me, his cheek pressed against my back. I could only make out a word or two, over my pounding grief.

"Tsuzuki…" He tightened his arms around me. "He's not worth crying over. Please stop crying… Tsuzuki…" And despite his adamant desire for my own tears to stop, I heard his own voice infraction into heated sobs as he too finally submitted to long withheld emotion. "Please… don't cry for him." He held me so tight it was all I could do to continue breathing against the constriction to my chest. "Not him…"

"Oh God… he's… he's gone…" I sobbed, face down in the grime and dirt that seemed so much more a part of me now then ever. "What am I supposed to do now? What?!" I hit my fists against the ground, sending feathers exploding out from between my taut fingers. "I'm so sorry… I'm such a fool… I'm so confused…" I crawled over to Tatsumi and grasped a hold of his foot, begging him physically in much the same way I had Muraki only moments before. "I… I don't know what to do, Tatsumi… My heart hurts…He left me… He left me here… and he's… he's going to go off and hurt more people. I couldn't stop him! I couldn't save him! I couldn't do anything…" I continued to sob as Tatsumi looked on with hurt visible in his saphire blue eyes. "I couldn't do anything…"

I suppose I must have cried for a long time. I was only vaguely aware of Hisoka and Tatsumi helping me back inside of Ukyou's house and laying me down on the couch. I guess that the time I spent in crying, they spent cleaning up the bedroom, preserving evidience where necessary and hosing down the outside area to vanquish all traces of Muraki's blood, as well as the remainders of his and Tatsumi's altercation. After that, they took me back to the Ministry and left me in the lounge area to recover. Someone, Tatsumi probably, tossed a blanket on top of me and exhausted as I was, it didn't take long for sleep to take hold. By the time my eyelids had fluttered open, the sky was darkening outside the window. Hisoka was peeking around the door at me. I forced myself to sit up and return his stare.

"What?" Perhaps that was a little gruffer than he deserved. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong. "Keeping an eye on me? Afraid I'll kill myself or something if left alone?"

Hisoka looked put out by this naturally but took it in his stride, as was his custom. "With your track record, you can't say we're overreacting exactly." He came and sat down opposite me. "How are you feeling?"

My eyes were sore and by rubbing them I could both alleviate the tension and block myself off from Hisoka's expression in the same movement. "Why do you care? Knowing what I've done… you must despise me."

He lowered his head, obscuring shining green eyes beneath those trademarked bangs. "I would have… once." He clutched one trembling fist between the other and set his chin against this formulated support. "Now… I guess I'm just curious. Because I do feel that I know you, Tsuzuki. And I guess that means," He raised his eyes and I was startled by the strength I could see residing in his eternally youthful features. "I want to believe what you said. That Muraki might not be wholly responsible for his actions. Maybe by helping him, we can get to the root of a greater evil."

I slid my thumb up between my lips and wedged the nail between my front teeth. A habit I sometimes succumbed to when genuinely perplexed by something. "You sincerely believe that?"

He offerred a rolling, almost noncholant shrug of his narrow shoulders. "To be honest… I don't know what to believe anymore. But it just seems too easy… and too expected of me to be angry at you for what's happened. I don't want to be angry at you." After an initial moment of hesitation, Hisoka brought his hands across the table and cupped my own between them. "I care about you so much… Can you please just tell me the truth? I won't be angry… You're a good person, so I'm sure there has to be a good reason why you… why you're with him."

I gave Hisoka the abridged version of how this whole sorry mess had come to pass. When I had finished speaking, it was with solemn eyes that he gazed upon me, stunned I suppose that I had felt the need to go this far, when the curse had been removed a fortnight ago.

"You felt the need to put yourself in this situation because of me?" He asked, looking both touched and surprised. I used his unexpected reaction to my advantage and reached over, grabbing a hold of both Hisoka's hands between my own, directing all my energy towards him, hoping he could sense some level of sincerity inside of me.

"That's the reason I did it, Hisoka! I didn't want you to go through anymore pain." Cold nausea flooded through my stomach and I felt both suddenly and profoundly aghast at having purposefully attempted to manipulate my partner into believing me. I jerked my hands back from his as though they had been burnt, praying he hadn't felt these emotions burst through me. "No… No, that's not true!" I put my head down, too ashamed of my behavior to even look him in the eye. "That was the reason… at first. But after a while… that reason became an excuse." I lowered my voice, speaking more to myself than to Hisoka. "You're unbelievable, you know that? How can I just sit here and lie to one of the very few people that care about me?"

Hisoka smiled sadly, shaking his head as if to say he disagreed with my self lecture. "I don't think that there is any lacking in that department, Tsuzuki. The problem with you is that too many people care. Even Muraki cared enough about you to back off and do the right thing. How many other people would he have done that for?"

"Hisoka," I trusted myself now that I was in check, to meet his eyes again, wondering if I could squeeze just the smallest shred of information from him. "Could you… could you feel Muraki's emotions today?" I stared at him with eyes of desperation, wanting someone to comfort and confirm my doubts and insecurities. "Was everything he said to me a lie?"

Hisoka stares at me in silence for a while before turning away with a flick of his head. "I couldn't say."

"Hisoka?" I pressed, wondering whether or not he was lying to me. He was intensely frustrating to read because he very rarely exhibited emotions, having programmed himself to reserve a blank face so that he wouldn't outwardly react to the reading of other people's thoughts.

"I told you," He said, sounding a little impatient. "I told you before, the time we ran into him in Nagasaki, remember? His emotions are so complex, I can't penetrate them by even an inch. There seems to be so much going on beneath the surface. Trying to read him is like…" He dithered for a moment, appartently struggling for a definition. "Swimming through an ocean of tar. It's impossible to steer myself through the darkness. Everything therein in his mind remains unscrutible though the gloom." He dropped his eyes towards the floor, twirling his thumbs in an anti-clockwise direction and then kicking them into reverse. "You probably have a better idea of what's going on in his head than I do."

I drew the blanket in tighter about myself, finding my body still wrought by chill and tremors. "I thought that I did."

Hisoka looked at me without saying anything for a while and then his face gradually developed into one of those slow, awkward smiles he offered so very rarely. To rarely, for someone so young. "You're a lot easier to read than he is, you know."

Seeing that unfamiliar expression on his face, reminded me of something else that I had been meaning to ask him. "Before we went into Ukyou's house today, you said something…"

"Care to narrow that down a bit?" Going over to the door to accept a pot of tea that one of the other workers had delivered for our convenience. Hisoka set it down on the table in front of me before turning his attentions to the china cabinet and searching for some cups and saucers.

"You said that you would give me ten minutes but after that you weren't going to hold anything back. That you would attack Muraki with everything you had. … I got the impression that you… might have… already know-"

"I've always had that inkling, Tsuzuki." Hisoka replied, face still buried in the depths of the cabinet. As such, he didn't see my face contort with surprise.

"What do you mean, 'always'?"

Hisoka sighed as he rose from a crouching position, bringing the cups over to the table and setting them down on their matching saucers, side by side. "Ever since the moment you first met Muraki, you've had contrary emotions regarding him." He explained, setting to work pouring the tea for me. "You hate him but at the same time you're enamoured by him. He disgusts you, yet intrigues you. You want to run from him, yet you want to hold him. And you're terrified of him… because no matter how many terrible acts he commits before your very eyes, you'll never be able to condemn him."

I sighed deeply as Hisoka added three standard sugars to my tea and poured in a dash of milk, just the way I liked it. "I wish I'd asked your opinion on this earlier, Hisoka."

Hisoka paused for a moment, eyes not on me though it was clear his focus was. "He hasn't made you cruel too, has he?"

"No!" I insisted, startled that he would even think such a thing. Then I remembered how my temper had gone so out of control earlier and found I couldn't exactly blame him for asking. "… But… having said so… I can't deny that I haven't been totally affected. I did yell at Wakaba… and Tatsumi." I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling suddenly and acutely ashamed of myself. "I was so awful to them."

"So I was told. But…" He moved over to sit beside me, placing the steaming cup between my hands before picking up his own. "That might have been natural, considering the circumstances. Emotions were high… I'm sure a lot of regretful things were said in the heat of the moment."

I set my teacup down, looking at my young partner with a mixture of gentle amusement and genuine surprise. "Hisoka… you're being so kind. Don't you want to yell at me? Hit me? Throw the couch on top of me and smack me in the face with a five-iron?" I'm not sure why exactly I was suggesting things for him…

"Yes, all those things." Hisoka murmured, as he stirred his tea. "That third one in particular."

"So why are you being so patient?"

"… To be honest…" He said, setting down his tea and gazing over towards the door, as though his lines had beene written across the wood. "I don't know. I don't know… If I had to guess, I would say that it's because I feel as though I know you now. I understand that you have experienced a lot of hurt in your life and I'm sure Muraki has done everything right by you. Shown you great kindness, respect… a particular brand of affection I'm almost certain you're not familiar with."

I had to give him that one.

"I can't pretend to know Muraki's motives exactly but I above all people have first hand experience with his brand of 'mercy'. He's got some agenda behind this, believe you me." Hisoka knelt down in front of me and placed his hands on my knees. "It's not my place but please… I have to know… Have you 'been with him', Tsuzuki?"

Holding the tea cup between two hands, I gingerly touched it against my lips, gauging the temperature. "Been? What do you mean – Yeah, I've been spending time with him… Ow, that's hot." I put the cup back down, waving a hand at my now scalding lip.

Hisoka shook his head, seeming a little exasperated. "That's not what I meant-" We both turned to face the door as it opened with a loud, rather obtrusive squeak and Aki's blond head appeared around it.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Segai?" Hisoka asked, sounding genuinely concerned. I imagine he was probably concerned that Muraki was going to come charging back at any second to reclaim me. Hardly likely.

Aki seemed confused as to why exactly he had stepped inside in the first place. "Oh, sorry to interrupt. Just wanted to let you know, the Count has arrived."

"Is Mr. Tatsumi barricading him?" Hisoka asked, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

"Naturally." Aki said, chuckling as he looked over at me. "You all right, Little Python?"

I smiled painfully, flashing him an 'Ok' sign with my fingers. "As well as I could be, I suppose."

He smiled sweetly, making me feel entirely undeserving all over again. "Good man. Let me know if I can get you both anything." His head ducked back behind the door and out of sight. As soon as he was gone, Hisoka sat down again, resuming his previous conversation with me.

"When I ask, if you've been with Muraki –"

By that stage I had already caught up. "Yeah, I got that now. You know me; always a little slow on the uptake." I laughed humorlessly, tapping the side of my head with the knuckle of my index finger. "Make that extremely slow on the uptake. How do you put up with me?"

"Tsuzuki…" Hisoka murmured, moving to sit beside me again. "I just want to be sure he didn't try to force you into anything." He sighed awkwardly and shifted his weight from side to side, clasping his hands together between his knees and then looking down at them. "The truth is… back… then…"

"Hisoka please…" I whispered, clutching my hands over my ears. "Please don't talk about it."

His eyes narrowed a little, though not much, so he wasn't furious with me yet. "The least you could do is hear me out, Tsuzuki. You owe me that."

"And much more besides." I admitted with saddness in my voice, remvoing my hands from my ears and allowing my guard to drop. "Go… go on."

But I really did not want to hear in any sort of detail what had happened between them back then. It made me sick. It always made me sick and for more reasons than one.

"Back when… Muraki…" Again, he shifted uncomfortably. "– raped me…"

Reached over I clutched his hand fiercly, providing myself as a sort of anchor to keep him bound to reality.

"- it wasn't just that he was… cruel." Hisoka swallowed, his eyes going out of focus. "It was as though he were punishing someone else. The whole time it was going on, I got the impression that it wasn't me he was seeing but a person he wanted revenge against. I was simply the form that person took. Does that sound strange to you?"

I finally made myself meet his eyes, thinking of the hatred in Muraki's voice whenever he mentioned his half-brother, whom bore such an uncanny similarity to Hisoka. It all made a little more sense and yet was still one of the more senseless things with which I had ever been confronted. "No." I confessed, shaking my head. "Not at all."

Whether he had read my emotions or my expression, Hisoka seemed to grasp instantly the hidden meaning behind those few words. His eyes widened and he shifted in order to direct his body towards me. "Then I'm not wrong, am I? … There is someone."

It doesn't matter." I insisted, shaking my head with indicative finality. "It shouldn't have mattered whether there'd been someone or not. What he did to you was wrong." I clutched Hisoka's hand even more tightly between my own as tears start to roll down my cheeks. "It was wrong…" I could feel my shoulders beginning to shake. "And what's even worse is that I have to keep telling myself that! So I don't forget… that I don't make an excuse for the terrible thing he did to you… that he's done to so many people…"

"He made me a victim in more ways than one, Tsuzuki." Whispered Hisoka, lowering his face so that he did not have to bear witness to my selfish despair. "I never told you this… but then I guess there are a lot of things I don't tell you. When…" Now, he looked away entirely, eyes to the far left wall. "– when he… forced me he… he didn't… you know… do anything until he made me physically want it." He bought his face back around as though suddenly realizing that looking away had not been the right thing to do in the first instance and stared at me desperately with eyes that drowned in tears and focused on nothing through them. "Do you know what that was like for me, Tsuzuki? I… saw him murder someone. When I walked in on him, there was a severed arm just lying there at his feet. And it wasn't enough to just rape me no…" He clutched his face between both hands, teeth clenched, looking furious. " He… he had to make me want it! He had to work me up so much that I eventually begged him to finish it! Can you possibly comprehend that, Tsuzuki?! That level of utter humiliation?! To beg a murderer to fuck you… to actually allow someone privileges with your body, simply because you get to the point where you can't take it anymore. I actually wanted it!

"Hisoka…" I moaned, clutching my hands over my mouth as sure enough, nausea welled through me. "Oh Hisoka…"

"I'm not an idiot." He said, finally looking up and focusing on me. "I know I'm younger than you and I realize you know more about the world than you probably let on but… when I realized that Muraki wanted you, I just couldn't bear to think about him subjecting you to the same thing he did me. I felt I had to protect you from that, no matter what." He reached out and touched the side of my face. "You showed me kindness when no one else in this world would even exercise the patience necessary to push forward with me. But you never expressed irritation or anger but swaddled me up and coveted me without asking for anything in return. You gave me a safe place where I could mature and heal, at my own pace. Everything I am today is because of you and I'm grateful for that. I suppose that's why I can't find myself angry at you. You proved yourself capable of healing even the most stubborn and damaged of hearts. I witnessed that first hand. I know better than anyone just how you feel about the weak and the wounded. If a person revealed even the smallest sliver of regret, remorse or saddness, that's all it would take for you to drive yourself to the ends of the earth… to save them." He stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I think if anyone was capable of salvaging him… it would be you. You did heal me after all."

I regarded him in silence for some time, tears rolling down my face, with no soundtrack beyond them. " I… I do want to save him. Hisoka…" I said at even, touching his hand with my own. "But I don't know how… I don't even know where to start. And besides, he's left now and he won't be coming back. I don't think he even wants to be saved."

Hisoka shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, neither did I. It was the last thing I was looking for. My entire life was driven by dark karmic emotions; anger, despair, hurt and revenge. Nothing existed outside of venting this bile. But then you appeared to me and drained that darkness out of me, granting me something I'd never imagined possible, at least not in my life that is. And what you gave me is that very thing I'm granting you now." He gazed at me enquiringly. "He hasn't forced himself on you at any point, has he?"

"We haven't had sex if that's what you mean." I replied, shaking my head.

He stared at me, as though searching my face for any trace of untruths and at length seemed satisfied that I hadn't lied because he took his hand away without further scrutinty. "But there have been… intimacies."

"In a manner of speaking…" I admitted, picks up my tea again, hoping that it was cool enough to drink now. "Do I need to go into them or are you content to leave it at that?"

He waved a hand hurriedly and dismissively. "Yes, that's fine. I definitely don't need to hear all the gory details, thankyou very much. What I suppose the real question is…" He gave me a sustained sidelong look. "Do you love him?"

I almost snorted tea out of my nose and I shot him a look to suggest that he was taking perhaps just a few too many liberties with my case of the guilts. There was only so much you could get away with before it descended into the realm of bullying. "You can read my mind, why bother asking questions at all?"

His face displayed the first true expression of anger I had seen that day. "Look, no point getting brutish with me, I think I've been pretty damn patient so far here!"

I sighed, not having the strength to argue over my rights with him at that particular moment. "Yeah and I appreciate that. But did you miss the part where I explained to you and half the Judgement Bureau that I didn't have a fucking clue myself how I felt?" I set my tea down roughly, hands clutching the back of my head. "Damn! Muraki just messes everything up for me! That bastard!"

Hisoka groaned, giving my upper back a vague sort of rub. "I think it's patantly clear that in the very least you have strong feelings concerning him." I suppose he must have taken pity on my pathetic disposition because the next minute found his arm settling about my shoulder. "Look… I'm sorry. I guess I haven't matured nearly as much as I hoped I had. But… it means a lot to have you in my life and I can't bear the thought of you not being around. Even so… I'd rather see you do what's best for you for once, Tsuzuki. Having you around wouldn't mean anything if it meant seeing you miserable all day every day."

I looked up at him, wondering if I had heard right and if Hisoka realized just how contradictory he sounded. "And after you told Muraki to leave me alone for my own good, you turn around and tell me now that I should go running back to him?"

He had the good grace to appear a little embarrassed at having been caught out in this fairly dramatic turn about. "I… I just wanted to test Muraki… I suppose. To see if he would do the right thing by you. At least to clear up whether his feelings regarding you are sincere or not. I have to admit, he threw me a little. I hadn't expected him to make such an unselfish move. But then again, he might have seen through my little farce and acted in such a way that might alternatively lead to my approving his character." He offerred a distasteful snort. "Like that's going to happen. Not in a million years."

"… I'm not sure exactly what point you are trying to prove here, Hisoka." I confessed, feeling as confused as I had at the outset of our conversation. He huffed, giving my shoulder a comforting little shake.

"What I'm trying to say, very inarticulately, is that… well… whatever happens…" He swallowed very deeply and dryly, as though not a drop of moisture remained in his mouth. "I'm not going to judge you. You hear me?" He met my stunned gaze fiercely. "I won't judge you. Not now, not ever. Whatever decision you make, I will stand by you. You saved me, Tsuzuki. You saved me from something that not many people can be saved from. I'd like to think you could peform such a miracle again. To think if you could…" He physically reasserted his fierce stance. "Anyway… You're my friend. I'll support you. I promise. Whatever you decide to do… I won't hate you for it. So please… if that's any condolence to you whatsoever, I hope you can move forward with it and do what's best for you for a change."

I was so overcome by my partner's sweet, strange sacrifice that I couldn't even think straight. Of all the people I would have expected to give me their blessing, he would have been at the very back of the line with Tatsumi. I should have realized, long ago what a truly remarkable young man my parnter was blossoming into. "Hisoka…" I embraced him and sank my face into his shoulder and he offerred me that self same comfort I had once shown him when he'd been forced, through Muraki's actions no less, to end the life of Camille, the girl he had fallen for on the Queen Camellia mission. "Thankyou…" I found myself repeating over and over again. "Thankyou so much…"

"It's okay," He told me as he rubbed my shoulder.

"You've been so good to me." I said, pulling away in order to rub my eyes one at a time. "But I don't think Tatsumi is ever going to forgive me."

Hisoka smiled patiently. "You can't expect to make everyone happy all the time, Tsuzuki. Maybe it's time you seriously think about what is going to make you happy. Now."

It seemed both telling and befitting that these were almost the exact same words Ruka used to say to me. But I didn't have too long to think about it deeply because just then, the door bursts open and in flounced a pair of white gloves and a familiar, much maligned half mask. Tatsumi predictably bustled along in its' wake, looking worked up all over again. Whatever calm he might have managed to establish during my nap had been all for nought now that the Count had made his appearance.

"– now where is he?" The Count was in the middle of saying as he entered. "I'm sure by this stage he must be dying for a more sensitive approach than yours Tatsumi."

Even from where I was seated I could see that well known and loved vein throbbing in Tatsumi's forehead. "As I have just informed you Count, what occurs in the Summons Section is hardly your concern. You would do well to just return to the Hall of Candles. It would after all be a dreadful shame should our problems interfere with your important work."

When listening to a conversation between Tatsumi and the Count, you must imagine that they are speaking in code and that some other message exists beneath their misleadingly direct exchange. For example, what Tatsumi just said could be most adequately translated as: "I told you to piss off, now kindly do so before I kick your ass, you deranged sexual degenerate!!"

In case I hadn't yet made it clear, those two did not get along.

"Now, now, Tatsumi, no need to be so cold." The Count said, pinching Tatsumi's cheek and issuing it a sharp slap. I found this a pretty daring mood considering the look on Tatsumi's face before he'd even established physical contact. I would have felt safer slapping a hungry hyena about the chops. "I'm sure you realize more than anyone that Tsuzuki is the most important thing to me." **Translation: -**

**Watari**

"Don't cock-block me".

**Tsuzuki**

As you can see, Watari here speaks perfect Count.

I could see, as well as hear Tatsumi gritting his teeth, in a brave attempt to force back the overwhelming anger plainly welling against the straining seams of his body. "Be that as it may-" **Translation: - **"Time to die."

"I believe we have spoken about this quite enough, my friend." The Count declared waved his hand in an Emperor like gesture, almost knocking Tatsumi's glasses flying in his dramatic postering. I groaned as the mask then zeroed in on me, wondering just what else could possibly happen to make my wonderful day already more wonderful then it already was! "My sweet darling, I have heard the most distressing news!"

"Whatever could that be?" I asked wearily. If a man could have hidden behind his tea cup, I'm sure I would have been the first to achieve it.

The Count chortled in that all too familiar lecherous manner, that made most sane men with function legs want to run for the hills. "Oh my… isn't he precious in his put upon naivite?" He chuckled again as he turned to Tatsumi. Wakaba, Saya, Yuma and Terazuma were peeping in through the doorway. I suppose he did put on a good show. "Tatsumi, would you mind terribly granting Tsuzuki and I a moment in private?"

Tatsumi's arms were crossed so tightly, I briefly wondered if their circulation was still adequately functioning. "Of course I mind, Count. When have I ever not minded? And who the Hell is this?" This turned out to be a man in a white coat who had entered through the doorway, holding a black briefcase in one hand.

"Oh him?" The Count queried, gesturing with his thumb. As though anyone else on Tatsumi's staff required an introduction. "His name is Dr. Takawa; my exclusive physician. Having heard of Tsuzuki's grevious injury today, it seemed prudent that I call for Mr. Takawa to tend to him as soon as possible. Your own Mr. Watari I know is currently absent, so I can't imagine you would object to having an extra pair of hands on board."

Tatsumi glared from behind his glasses, the intensity as such that I would not have been surprised had all the potplants in the room simultaneously wilted. "That was indeed generous of you, Count. But this is surely a costly gesture, that our department could hardly be expected to repay you for." **Translation: - **"Don't you dare foot the bill to us for your wasteful expenditures."

The Count snickered, seeming to always treasure the oppurtunity to rile Tatsumi up. "By all means, consider it a favor. I may have no other choice but to add it to Tsuzuki's ever increasing stack of debts, knowing all too well of the impoverished Summons Sections diobolical financial straights."

"You trying to make me feel worse, Count?" I whispered, which elicited a giggle from Saya in the very least. The others were still entirely focused on the exchange between our two powerful superiors.

"If you wish to speak to Tsuzuki in private," Tatsumi continued, with cold diffidence. "You may ask him if he would kindly consent to your individual company."

"Tsuzuki, would you be kind enough to grant me your company without the presence of this infuriating tin man hovering about my shoulders?" The Count asked and there was uncharacteristic vehemence in his voice, as though he were rushing upon a busy schedule and hadn't the time for his and Tatsumi's usual routine.

Under normal circumstances, I would have very much refuted being left alone with the Count. He'd made his amorous attentions quite well known, since the very first moment he and I had made acquantance. However, some months back when he had hosted a fancy dress party, in order to celebrate the remodeling of the Hall of Candles, he had spoken some particularly kind words that had settled my troubled mind at the time. I suppose since then my hostile attitude towards him had mellowed somewhat; though I still had not forgotten the unspeakable perversions lining the walls of his basement.

"Tatsumi…" I spoke in a soft voice, still refusing to make eye contact with the secretary. "It's okay. The Count obviously has something important he needs to say. I'd much rather that he get it off of his chest now, rather than later."

Tatsumi didn't like this but I suppose that he was still far too angry with me at the moment, to even consider fighting for my virtue. Eyes narrowed, he turned about and gestured for Hisoka to follow. My partner's weight left the seat as he joined Tatsumi by the door, glancing once briefly over his shoulder and I'm sure offering me a morsel of mental support. I was beyond caring at that stage. I already felt so poorly, that I doubted the Count could bring me any lower, regardless of what he might try.

Once the Count was sure that we were alone and that the door was shut completely behind the parting company, he turned back to me with his gloves held in such a position that I supposed his arms were crossed and he was offering me a knowing expression.

"Before I inquire any further into your activities over the past few weeks my boy, I would greatly appreciate your cooperation for just a few short minutes." He gestured, palm up to the young, dark haired doctor, whom bowed to me as though on cue. He was probably only in his late thirties but his hair already displayed streaks of gray and the dark skin of his face resembled the smooth, weather worn trunk of a tree. "I understand that you lost a great deal of blood this evening and I'm sure this is not the first transaction of this type that you have submitted to." One white finger tapped against what I suppose was the bridge of his nose. "If you would indulge me in consenting to a brief review of your condition, it would be most appreciated."

I shrugged my shoulders unattractively and turned my head to burrow deeper into the blanket. "Aw'right. Whatever." As I may have already mentioned, it was not as though I were feeling particularly fiesty by that stage. More to the point, I felt at a loss and wasn't sure in which manner to direct my energy. It was by this indecisiveness that I failed to act as I might have once done, by stalwartly refuting anything the Count might have asked me to do and alternatively smacking him around the chops for even daring to request my compliance on such a matter. No, all I could think about was Muraki and where he was right then. Was he out there, right at that moment, murdering someone? Sapping their strength and thereby taking it for his own? Startled by my thoughts, I glanced over by shoulder and out through the bay windows, experiencing a slight flux of relief as witness to the platinum moon hanging as the pendant to the night sky, with no stain of blood upon it. Whatever Muraki was doing at that moment, it was not murder.

Mr. Takawa approached me with great respect and then did a most fatherly thing in patting my cheek. I suppose he meant for it to seem kindly but the truth was, the flesh of my jaw was still a little battered from my recovering wounds and this only served to render me even more surly than I had been in the first place.

"How old are you again, young man?" The doctor asked, withdrawing the plugs of his stethoscope and sliding them into his ears. I told him what year I was born, even as he pressed the cylindrical barrel to my chest and requested that I breathe normally.

"1912… that would make you the year of the rat, is that correct?"

I nodded as he withdrew the stethoscope and then used the tips of his fingers to feel underneath my jaw line, inspecting my glands. It suddenly occurred to me at that moment, that my zodiac sign and Muraki's were the same. He had been born in 1972, which was also the year of the Rat.

"Your skin's hanging off of your bones… that's a bad sign. You should be drinking more water." Dr. Takawa said, moving his hands down from my neck and reaching into his pocket for a light. I gestured to the jug of water someone had set beside me and the glass from which I was currently drinking. The doctor nodded approvingly, using one hand to draw back my eyelids one at a time and the other to shine the light towards my face. "Make sure you keep your fluids up. Losing so much blood would put most Guardians in a certified coma until they had recovered. You're certainly as resilient as I have been led to believe. Anyway, your pupils aren't dilated. Even if your eyes do look a little sore."

"Crying." I mumbled, blinking said eyes as the doctor finally released his hold upon them. He turned my head from side to side, examining the bruising and then feeling my jaw as though to check for breaks or fractures. When he was done, he turned back to the Count.

"Visually, he's fine. There should be no lasting damage to his face, thank goodness." He looked back toward me, almost fondly. "He is rather pretty, isn't he? Such unusual eyes! And I can see he possesses phenomenal strength of will, not to mention a charming disposition. I'd certainly say he's a water type, this one."

I took a sip of my water, not failing to notice Tatsumi's concerned eyes peeping in through a gradually widening gap in the door. The Count too noticed and without so much as shifting his weight one ounce, slid the door back neatly into the border, blocking Tatsumi out again.

"I'm certainly glad to hear that, doctor." The Count's eyes must have been on me. "But I doubt we'll be able to preserve any further lasting privacy, so you might as well conclude your examination. I'm sure you know what I'm most interested in clearing up."

Dr. Takawa nodded and went over to his black case, opening the clasp before delving his hands into the midst. "As you are aware, Sir, Mr. Tsuzuki is not a woman and ascertaining such conditions with a male subject is not nearly so simple. I may not be able to provide you with a satisfactory answer."

"But you should be able to get a good idea from a visual examination of the exterior regions, correct?" The Count looked weary, his hand positioned so that I imagined his chin was supported. Like I've said countless times, I'm not what you would call experienced in picking up on such nuances, so I didn't grasp the meaning of their discussion until I was quite literally subjected to the conclusion of it. Not even when the doctor emerged from his traveling case, snapping the wrist of a rubber glove into place, in such a fashion that signified trouble for any man whom happened to be on the receiving end of said glove. Most rational gentleman would already have been tensing up by this stage, if not pelting for the door itself with their groin about an inch from the ground. But not Asato Tsuzuki. Not dear distracted Asato Tsuzuki, preoccupied with the salacious thought that he might never kiss Kazutaka Muraki again and he was already beginning to miss the feel of his lips upon his.

"Sir?" The doctor asked, looking towards the Count. "Will this room be…?"

"This room will be fine." The Count stated, sounding tired and less diplomatic than he usually did. He must have been irritated to have acted so unseemly around me. The doctor approached me and asked that I stand, which I did, with the blanket still wrapped firmly about my body.

"Might I ask that you pass me the blanket?" Takawa requested. Puzzled, I unwrapped myself from the warm cocoon of material and passed it to the young doctor, who immediately whipped it up into the air and lowered it gracefully to a bare space of floor behind the couch. Meaning that no one peeking into the room would be able to see what was going on should we have… well, I don't know say, had a picnic. Though from the look of those gloves I highly doubted that this was the plan.

Plus, no dinner rolls in sight.

The doctor shut the curtains as though to ward off any peeping toms that might have been lurking in the cherry tree just outside (they would have had to have been the most determined pervert in the world to scale that monster trunk, all for a peek in at my vulnerable body) and then politely asked that I remove myself to the far side of the couch and strip down to my skivvies. Having not been in the right state of mind, I didn't offer much resistance but was still grateful that the Count hadn't yet bothered to shift from his position by the door. I believe most of his efforts were concentrated on holding Tatsumi at bay. A humorous sort of role reversal, when one thinks about it.

I quickly undressed and lay down upon the blanket without being asked to, which I had guessed was the next rational step but the doctor immediately coaxed me back to my feet. I felt uncomfortable being in full view of the Count, who wasted no time in reaping my exposed skin with his eyes and kept my own diverted toward a gap in the curtains, where I was able to survey the moon and in so saying, Muraki's current proceedings.

Dr. Takawa examined my pectoral region and dabbed a little antiseptic on the still healing wounds I'd received during the day. He felt my ribcage, lifted my arms to check the glands situated underneath and worked the pads of his fingers down across my abdomen, checking I suppose for swellings of the organs. He gave me a little shove against the shoulder, indicating that I turn around so that he could check my back. I got the vague impression that this was simply a formality and what the Count was really interested in checking was not my current health, rather then my… ahem, current condition. This occurred to me moments before the doctor spun me about again and asked that I remove my underpants.

"Why?" I asked, voice trembling. The doctor smiled. He seemed nice and I trusted him somewhat, well, more than I did the Count anyway. I was hoping that he might give me a straight answer regarding my current treatment but the Count stepped in before he could say so much as a word.

"Please, don't be difficult, Tsuzuki, I truly do not have the patience at the moment." My eyes actually started to burn, because he had never spoken to me so callously before. "This is the very first thing that Enma requested I check once you had been brought back today. Truth be told, I naturally am most interested myself, so it would truly save us all a great deal of trouble if you could just do as you're told."

I fought back tears as I obediently removed my boxer shorts and under the doctors instruction lay down upon the blanket, staring up at a ceiling that swam before my eyes. I wished that Watari were there to stand up for me. Tatsumi was too angry to and Hisoka was just quietly resolved to let happen whatever I decided to let happen. Watari would have known what should and should not have been allowed to happen to me. He would have burst in the room and told the Count what was what and then taken me aside and cared for me. I really missed him then. And I missed Muraki too. I just wanted to be with people that cared about me, not a doctor I had never met before and an amorous aristocrat who had suddenly decided I wasn't worth addressing with deference.

The doctor knelt by my feet and with a curt apology, asked that I spread my legs. I was so ashamed and upset, that I actually hid my face behind my hands and shook my head, keeping my knees tight together and curling up in an attempt to shield my more personal regions. The Count went further to prove his irritation and impatience with me when he abandoned his momentary post by the door and stamped across the room, slapping my leg hard enough to bring a fresh round of tears to my eyes.

"Didn't I just finish telling you to stop being difficult?" He gave my other leg a somewhat more gentle swat, as though suddenly abashed over how harsh he was being. "Please behave yourself. To hinder the process will only prolong it." He caressed my cheek momentarily before gliding back towards the door, just in time to slam it shut again from the sounds of it. I sniffled as I looked up into the doctors' dark brown eyes and his considerably more patient smile.

"Whenever you're ready." He said and though he spoke kindly, I still couldn't stop the tears from rolling out. I pressed my fingers over my face and parted my thighs in stages, not sure what width would pass as sufficient. I felt so utterly exposed and miserable that my whole body trembled. Muraki was the only other person who had seen a great deal of my naked body and even he had not been granted a view such as this. The doctor eventually assured me that my position was fine and reached between my legs with both hands. I held my breath as I felt his fingers move straight for my rectum and then there was plenty of movement going on inside of me, eliciting small whimpers of shame and discomfort from just as deep a place. I couldn't imagine for the life of me what any of this was proving and wondered for one crazy instant whether the Count had brought this doctor here to have sex with me for his viewing pleasure. Was this the way I was intended to pay back my debts? I wouldn't have initially guessed that this would be his cup of tea. But after less than a minute of mining my most intimate region, Dr. Takawa must have been satisfied because the invading pressure left and when I dared open my eyes again, I saw him taking the gloves off and depositing them within the black case.

"As far as I can tell, he is intact." He said, glancing over at my still prone body and looking surprised that I hadn't yet moved. "Oh, by all means Tsuzuki-san, change, change!"

As I pulled my clothes back on in various degrees of shambling theatrics, I could see the Count no doubt fingering his chin thoughtfully. "That is good news… but I wish there was a way I could be certain… His Majesty doesn't appreciate a 'maybe'." He waited until I had finished dressing before approaching. "Tsuzuki, my darling."

"I'm not your darling." I snapped but he took no notice.

"I'm to understand that you have been in the presence of a particular gentleman these past few weeks." His finger made a motion and I'm to suppose that he scratched his chin, as though musing on how I might have dared possess the audacity. I narrowed my eyes, spurned on by his even more untoward treatment of me and his rude manner besides.

"What's it to you?"

"Have you shared any intimacies with him?"

"None of your fucking business." I said, using one of Watari's words again. Again, the Count, unusually serious, ignored my tone in favor of assuring himself of that which he was most invested in.

"I am not interested in hearing minute personal details such as the amount of times you might have kissed, or touched or whatever else." He stated in a careless manner, raising his gloved hand to offer a characteristic dramatic gesture. "What I need to know is whether he has enjoyed himself with you, sweet simple boy. Did he at any stage undress you and lie naked on top of you? Has he ever breached your body?"

I made a mess of my tie as my anger finally exploded and I nearly ripped the whole damn thing to shreds. "NO ONE has fucking popped my cherry yet, if that's what you're getting at, Count! And it's none of your fucking business or anyone else's for that matter, whom I may or may not choose to have sex with! It certainly doesn't give you the goddamn right to check my bloody state of virtue as though you possess rights to it or something!! Jesus Christ!"

"Well not yet anyway," He mumbled, in such a way that I couldn't help but think he wanted me to hear it and indeed question it. Such things I only realized later of course. At the time, I was so distressed I wasn't thinking ahead and interpreting the situation as acutely as Muraki for example, was capable of doing. He always seemed two steps ahead of everyone, Tatsumi alone exempted. But that wasn't me, a present existing person.

"What do you mean 'not yet anyway?!'" I grabbed for where the hoped the Count's collar was situated on his intangible person and was greatly satisfied when I felt my fingers close about what were distinctly lapels. I drew him close, relieved that I had found someone to direct my anger toward. "You start making sense right now! I've had just about all the bullshit I can take for one day!"

The Count's gloves closed about my wrist and with strength I hadn't known he possessed, he pried my hands away and snapped them apart to about so that they were positioned roughly before each of my shoulders. He was taller and he leaned down over me, radiating whatever precisely might be the opposite of good will.

"You know perfectly well that I have never looked upon you with the eyes of someone whom is interested in your conversation alone, Tsuzuki. Perhaps it is time that I was perfectly frank about my intentions with you, blunt though I gather you assume they have been. Sit down." He guided me backwards towards the couch and I took a seat, though quite outside of my own intentions. It felt altogether too much like backing down and I was still too worked up to want to relax just yet. The Count's hands released me and he sat on the armchair to my right, sliding his fingers together daintily. The doctor took the left hand seat and kept himself busy by writing notes, to make it pointedly clear that he was not a part of this conversation.

The Count's single eyehole focused on me. "As I said, over the years you have known perfectly well what my intentions have been. I've never pretended to be interested in anything else, excluding your smile and soothing nature of course. They are factors of your startling personality that provide me great solace in my otherwise sordid existence. But that alone is not the reason for which I long to obtain the pleasure of your company. And it is certainly not the reason your 'acquaintance' Kazutaka Muraki has pursued you so adamantly these past few years. And noble though Seiichirou Tatsumi pretends to be, you mustn't delude yourself into thinking that he is entirely selfless in his attentions toward you. You must wonder why you are considered such an attractive prospect by now I'm sure? I do not mean to suggest that you are not physically beautiful and unworthy of such attentions however. But there is one very specific aspect of your body that draws great interest. Would you like to guess what that aspect might be?"

I took another sip of my tea, which by now had started to cool and wasn't the least bit appealing. But I wanted an excuse to not answer right away and this was the only thing I could think of doing to delay the conversation. Honestly; I mean, I realize that I'm not the smartest bulb in the bulb box but assuming that I hadn't a clue of what this 'aspect' might be, was just insulting. He'd made it all but obvious both in this conversation and his attentions over the past seventy years or so of our acquaintanceship.

"I'm guessing it's not the fact that I brush and floss my teeth," I finally drawled, setting the tea down and then turning it about by the handle until it faced towards the Count. Again, I was just finding a means to distract myself. He didn't so much as move in response to my answer.

"Be serious," He said.

I looked at him with still furious eyes. "I know exactly what you're talking about. You're talking about my virginity, right? Well I'm sorry but I can't imagine for the life of me why this should be of any interest to anyone. The only good it does is gives other people (namely you Watari) a reason for a laugh."

The Count chuckled quietly to himself. "No… I suppose you wouldn't understand, would you? After all, no one has been kind enough to explain such matters to you." He slid one hand through the air in a refined manner, fingers held together and straight, in order to indicate that an explanation was indeed in order. "Allow me to fill you in," ('I'm sure you'd love that,' I found myself quietly snarking.) "In Olden Times, there was an obscure, though much enjoyed belief, that when an individual gives themselves over to another for the first time in the intimate act of copulation, an unbreakable bond is forged between them. This link is simply called The Lead and whoever holds the end of this bond, is thereby bond to you until the end of days and in some such cases there ever after. This person will additionally possess power over you. Influence and authority. They even acquire the ability to manipulate your actions to a degree, by instilling within you an insignia of their own desires. It's one of the central reasons that high ranking demons employ the use of Pet's and the reason a Pet must be a virgin when they acquire them. By becoming the patron of their innocence, they attain absolute power over them." He looked into my dramatically humbled expression. "So you see why this issue was of some concern to us. Whether or not you trust this Muraki fellow is irrelevant. But if he were to become your patron, nothing you do afterward would do any good. He would have power over you until the end of days. And he could use that power."

My mind suddenly went back to the first time Muraki and I had met. The words he had said, leaning over a broken doll and running his fingers across the cracked glaze of its' shattered face, musing almost thoughtfully to himself that so long as human beings were subject to sickness and death, they would always be burdened. Had he known what might have come about from bedding me? I couldn't imagine that he had. Why go to all that effort to obtain individual power, to use my body to complete the DNA sequence of his brother, if the solution to all his tribulations was so unbelievably easy? He'd certainly had more than one chance to fuck me. After he stole my unconscious body from the doorstep of the Ministry of Hades, I'd been in a catatonic like state for over a forty-eight hour period. I couldn't have stopped him if he'd tried and wouldn't have even attempted to do so; such was my advanced state of delirium. No… I couldn't imagine that Muraki was aware of this 'Lead,' as the Count put it. He'd wanted power so badly… and yet, he still didn't take my body when he had the chance.

I looked at the Count, secure in my conclusions. "Muraki wouldn't know anything about that. Otherwise he would have already had me. I can understand why that is of such concern though. It was bad enough when Saagatanasu had control over my powers. I can't say I'm not convinced Muraki might not have a bone to pick with the Ministry." I poured myself a glass of water and took tentative sips from it, wondering even as I said these words whether this was right or not. Muraki's objectives seemed to entirely revolve around me rather than the Ministry. He wasn't trying to overthrow anyone, or steal anything… No. It was definitely me he was after. Now more than ever. And it seemed an awfully important thing to have simply been neglected in being presented as common knowledge amongst my peers and myself. To think, that by bedding a virgin you might have power over the individual for the rest of their natural life! If this were common knowledge amongst powerful demons, it would mean that anyone of them might possess authority over any large number of people!

And though I essentially had it figured out at that moment, it did not click until later.

"And it's not that issue alone that has his Majesty Enma and I concerned," The Count continued, resting back in the armchair and placing his linked hands down in his lap. I suppose. "Because you possess unusual blood, it seemed quite imperative to his majesty that were anyone to become bound to you, that it would be someone whom would not take advantage of your strength. His Majesty Enma naturally thought it best were he to become your patron."

"Oh get real! Since when did my lack of a sex life become common knowledge to you guys, anyway?" I focused on some none existent point and scowled. "It was Watari. God dammit, I'll bet it was Watari, that no good, four-eyed excuse for a- OW! Hey! I'm just telling it like it was!

**Watari**

You don't need to go into every tiny detail. Especially when it gets into the name-calling! I'm sensitive.

**Tsuzuki**

Bullshit. But anyway, moving right along.

The Count didn't confirm whether or not it was Watari and I think hadn't even heard my accusations in the first place. "Naturally, I had an issue with this. And so, Enma and I have fought one another on this point for a number of years now, all the while using our influence to… how you say… keep the competition away."

"WHAT?!" I was up out of my seat again and my hormones were flying about with such reckless abandon that I swear I could have punched the Count's lifeless mask right through the back of the armchair. "Are you trying to tell me that you and Enma-Sama have been scaring off my partners?!"

"And potential partners too." The Count offered, as though this was going to help. It wasn't.

"You BASTARD!!" I picked up the pot of tea (considerably cooler than I would have liked at that point) and poured the entire contents over the Count's head. I was fit to be tied, to say the least! "How DARE you?! The two of you, whittling away the years deciding my future for me? Who the Hell do you think you are?! I'm not some geisha that you can just sell off to whoever wins the bid! I don't care whoever gets a stupid 'bond' with me! I won't be giving up my virginity to anyone but the person I'm in love with and that sure as Hell isn't you or Enma-sama. I'm not even sure that I even like you. And after this little talk I'm definitely sure that I don't like Enma-sama! No one has the right to interfere with anyone else's personal life like this! It's wrong, it's immoral, it's – Gosh, I'm so angry with you right now I could just kill you!!"

The Count stared up at me from beneath two soggy tea bags and then slowly rose to his feet. My anger temporarily fractured and I took a step away, all too receptive to the waves of vehemence rolling off of him. It still caught me off guard however, when his gloved thumb and index finger speared forward and snagged my bottom lip. Muraki had done this very thing the first night of our reunification but even he had never been this cruel. The Count exacted such pressure upon the column of my lip, that my eyes shammed shut of their own accord; a means of combating the sharp, crushing pain. "You know… you really do look most lovely when you're angry. I suppose that's why I make a point of riling you up at every chance we meet." He lowered his face to position his mouth close to my ear. I knew because I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. "I underestimated you, Tsuzuki. We should have kept a better eye on you. To think you possessed the audacity to make your own way and with a renowned serial killer, no less. I have to admit, it was a good move. You really threw me."

It was only then I realized, that it wasn't the Count to whom I was speaking.

"E…Enma-sama?!" I winced as he redoubled the pressure against my lip, eliciting a small spurt of blood as a vessel burst beneath the skin.

"You're clearly not as foolish as I took you to be." It was certainly the Count's body standing before me but Enma certainly possessed power enough to possess him or anyone for that matter, which I gather the Count had been aware of before entering the room. They had arranged to see me together, outside of my own knowledge! "You're a precious commodity, dear Tsuzuki. With the debts you owe to both myself and the Count, I cannot even understand for a second why you would think to cheat us by giving freely to a man, what he ought to be paying for."

"Y-yourth not makin-gth any thenthe!" I hissed, not daring to make any attempt at removing his hand from me. Enma was the Lord of Hades; solely responsible for reanimating all the deceased individuals that succeed in becoming a Guardian of Death. The distance in power between Shinigami and Enma was so vast it was quite literally impossible to bridge. I probably could have removed his fingers from my mouth had I wanted to do so but in dealing with the Lord of all Hades, one does not simply piss him off if one can avoid doing so. I was rather regretting my earlier decision to dump tea on his head. Though it had been the Count at the time, who certainly deserved it as far as I'm concerned.

I had never seen Enma's face; only the very few elite members of the Ministry and the servants of his house were privy to his unveiled form. No doubt this is the very reason why he had 'borrowed' the Count for this little session.

"You don't understand yet?" His lips were practically on top of my ear. "You owe a great debt, Asato Tsuzuki. And you have not yet repaid it. Not even close. Until that day such liberties as taking a lover of your own, are a luxury that you, impoverished as you are, cannot yet afford." And here he finished his thought by pulling back my lip so hard he almost ripped it out from the base of my jaw. I stumbled back from him, clutching my bruised and bleeding mouth.

I had to work hard to catch my breath and when I felt that I could speak again, I said, "Your Majesty Enma-Sama! I've never done a thing to make you angry with me!"

"Not until now, you haven't. And if you are a smart boy, you will not continue to do so."

I wanted to excuse myself but his Majesty made it quite apparent with one small flutter of his hand that he fully intended to take his leave first. The doctor, having grasped this, raised himself out of his seat and went over to the door, holding it open for Enma's convenience. All might have gone well, had his Majesty not reserved one final passing jive for me before abandoning me to my own devices.

He poised in the door, outlined by the imposing figures of Tatsumi and Aki, who appeared to be keeping close vigil. He turned, perhaps with one eye peering down the scope of his shoulder.

"You have tried once already to make a fool of me, Asato Tsuzuki. You tried to escape from me and slither off to the world of the dead." His head tilted sidelong and I could feel the heat from those secluded eyes. "Let me tell you now that you will never escape from me. You will never be free. Happiness is not something you deserve so don't be so arrogant to expect it. You have no choice in the matter. This is where you belong."

I fingered my throbbing lip, experiencing a rapid flush of audaciousness as a direct result of his provocative egotism. I did indeed owe a great debt to both him and the Count but this was blackmail, to hold me to ransom because my own existence was at stake!

"I never should have requested a second chance from you. I would rather be dead than face a miserable existence where I am lorded over, like a dog unto a master!"

"What's going on?" Tatsumi asked, but Enma ignored him.

"You cannot speak to me in that insolent tone, Tsuzuki, you cannot!"

"But Enma-sama-!!"

"Tell me, what less can I expect?" He snapped, his tenor rising, his impatience seeping through. "You owe me your life!"

My face contorted in accordance with my melancholy. "But you cannot pretend to own it as a result! Guardian's of Death become that which we are because we wish to do in the afterlife, what we missed out on in the first place!"

He pointed his finger at me. "And what exactly do you feel as though you have missed out on, Tsuzuki-san? Answer me that!"

"I have missed out on life itself!" I cried, tugging at my hair in amassing fury. "I gave you my allegiance because I dared to hope that I might one day live a life that is entirely my own! Where I would answer to no one! I especially don't mean to answer to you!"

I thought for one fatal second that he was about to rip the mask from his face and come at me with everything he had, but he restrained himself at the last second. His voice was carefully controlled, much in the manner in which Tatsumi spoke, when he was attempting to reign his emotions in. "Both you and that Yutaka Watari seem to be going out of your way to purposefully aggravate me. But I do assure you, that it shall be the two of you whom will emerge the worse for wear."

That was the last straw. The doctor couldn't escort his Majesty from the room quickly enough, before I fell one inch short of driving my foot into his butt. "You SHUT UP! Shut up, just shut up! THAT'S IT! I hate you, you rotten son of a bitch!" I ran after him into the hallway and leaned around the door, screaming at his and the doctors retreating backs, whilst my milling colleagues simply looked on in astonishment. "That's right, run away! As for you, Count, my integrity is not for sale! And it's not for you either, Enma! In case that wasn't obvious. I'd rather have sex with one of the Gushoshin twins than you!"

"Tsuzuki, please." Tatsumi said, though he was beginning to look a little amused by the whole affair, which I suppose meant he wasn't as angry with me anymore. I put my hands on my hips and faced him with a face full of huff.

"Oh, now I suppose you'll want to have a little talk with me too, right Tatsumi?"

Wakaba cleared her throat quietly from behind me. "Um… actually… we all would, Tsuzuki."

I really only wanted to go to sleep and forget the whole day had ever happened but I doubted I would be able to relax without having sorted a few matters out. With this in mind, I gestured everybody back into the room tiredly, resuming my seat back on the couch after retrieving the blanket from the floor and rethreading it about my shoulders. Saya, Yuma and Hisoka sat on respective sides of me, whilst Wakaba and Terazuma took the two armchairs. Terazuma immediately sat up, having plonked himself down upon the residual wet patch from where I'd dumped tea on the Count and with a slightly disturbed expression, slid down to sit on the floor instead. Aki sat in front of the coffee table facing me, whilst Tatsumi chose to remain standing before the window.

Before he could get started, I focused my attentions on Aki. "Say Orakiku?"

He glanced over from the damp seat of the chair and met my eyes with his own deep green orbs. "Yeah Python?"

I chewed my worn lip distractedly. "Did the ah… Count ever…" I looked up again, suddenly realizing that asking him to validate the Count's story was irrelevant now because it would have made no difference in our decision to break up anyway. I smiled and shook my head, only resulting in elevating his level of confusion. "No, never mind. It doesn't matter." I took a sip of my water, looking straight ahead but focusing mentally on Tatsumi's figure in the background. "Well all right then. Let me have it."

A sliding clatter told me that he had opened the curtains again. "What would you like me to say, Tsuzuki?"

I put my finger on my chin and looked towards the ceiling. "Oh, I don't know. For a start… how are your injuries fairing? You lost a lot of blood."

"Not as much as you did this afternoon." He threw back, quick as a whip. I groaned and took another sip from my water.

"Guess I deserved that one."

"Yes you did." He let it hang on that for a while, before coming around to the other side of the couch and with one small gesture, succeeded in removing Saya and Yuma. He took their spot and then leant forward and around, so that he could see into my face. It took another minute before he even actually said anything and by this stage I think I was well and truly invested in behaving in a bratish fashion. "Do you recall what it was that I said to you this morning?"

I thought naturally that he was referring to his admission of his feelings. "You may have to clue me in." I peered at him over the rise of the blanket. "There were a great many things of which you spoke about this morning."

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit that indicated he was directing all efforts into maintaining calm. "When I spoke to you of Watari and his relationship with Oriya Mibu. I suggested, much to your amusement if I recall correctly, that Oriya might have been manipulating him, so that he could obtain information from the Ministry. Which he then might pass to Muraki, whom would then use it to get to you."

"Aso," I murmured with a slightly sardonic grin. "Yes… I do appreciate the irony, Tatsumi. But if it pleases you to know, Oriya and Watari only became close after Muraki had already established contact with me. And as the 'Count' ever so diplomatically just pointed out to me, Muraki is only after one thing and that one thing certainly has nothing to do with the Ministry." I encouraged Tatsumi to make eye contact and I spoke to him with more power than I had ever shown him before. I wanted to cower him a little, make him feel as though he had underestimated me. "He wants me, Tatsumi. Just me. Not anyone else here. Nothing else matters to him but being with me."

"Now that's just foolish." Tatsumi said, his eyes hardening until they were almost granite. I scowled back.

"Why? Because you think it's impossible for anyone to be happy just being with me?"

"Don't be so stupid or I'll smack you around the face!" Tatsumi suddenly yelled and I retreated back into the blanket, afraid he might follow through with his threat anyway. "It is simply foolish to assume that Muraki is capable of love. He's after power, Tsuzuki. And he's been driven mad by what power he already possesses. We can't possibly allow him access to more!"

"You mean me." I whispered. He ran his hand over his face, nearly knocking his glasses askew.

"Don't you understand…?" He said softly. He reached over and took my hands between his own. "You don't have to be with him. If you indeed did this for Kurosaki's benefit, then you have no more reason to remain with him." He moved closer, so that only I could hear what he next had to say. "Can't you see?" And then he made himself incredibly vulnerable, which was so beautiful and brave of him. He touched my face, bringing his palm down my cheek and making it plain to just about everyone how he felt, even if they couldn't hear his words. "Can't you see what a mess you've made of me? I don't want him to have you… not after all these years of hoping… of trying to… to make you happy."

I looked at him beyond seeing and yet felt emotion so poignant bloom in my chest, that I couldn't understand how anyone could possibly miss it. Oh, the words I would say next would break his heart, of that I had no doubt. "But he makes me happy, Tatsumi."

His hand fell from my face. "I need you to be with me."

A tear slid over my eyelid and down my face, holding fort on my chin. "But I don't love you."

I could see his lower lip trembling from barely suppressed emotion. "How am I so different from him?" He tried to take my hands again but I drew them swiftly across my lap, not wanting to allow myself to become receptive to him. He clutched the rise of my knees instead. "The only way in which we are different is that his core is bruised, Tsuzuki. He is not unlike a beautiful tree that has insects swarming within the trunk, taking nest."

I looked away, unable to face his pain. "Oh but Tatsumi." I bit my lip. "He loves the part of me that you…" I gestured about lamely. "All of you refuse to even see. Isn't it enough that I can be loved in my entirety?"

"But we don't know if that's true love, Tsuzuki." Saya said, leaning over with a desperate look on her face. "You're such a good person now, no matter who you were before! And we love you. You. Whoever you are."

"And shouldn't it be okay not to love everything?" Tatsumi said, revealing his stress in the small bead of sweat that slowly coursed its' way down his left temple. When he wasn't speaking, his lips were clenched tightly together. "Put yourself in my shoes for a second. Just thinking about it… the idea of you with him… you might think you're worth that sort of punishment but not a damn one of us do!"

"But don't you see, that's just the thing." I crouched down deeper into my blanket. "I've never felt that this was about punishing myself. That's why I deserve it." I smiled in a most disabling fashion. "I'm a… bad person."

"You're the person I love most." Tatsumi said and this time everyone heard it and I grew profoundly angry when I again witnessed that sweet smile of Wakaba's. She and Watari were so alike in this way; they went into a smiling defense mechanism to keep people from interpreting their true emotions. Inside, I'm sure her heart was breaking.

"You don't know enough about me to love me." I stood up, bringing the blanket with me. "And you don't know enough about Muraki to assume what his intentions are. Believe it or not, he loves me. For me."

"Because of your power." He insisted.

"You don't know that!" I was starting to cry again but I was so saddened, it was something I truly could not seem to stop doing. "And I'm tired of arguing with you about this! I don't care if you'll never forgive me for it. I don't even care if it makes me a bad person or not. Hisoka understands. And if he can understand after everything Muraki put him through -"

Tatsumi roared to his feet. "Exactly! Exactly Tsuzuki! We're talking about a murderer! If this were just someone who smoked marijuana, or pinched purses it might be a different matter. You can't honestly think I was going to let you stay with someone like that? You're too good for that fate!"

I heard it all as though I were standing behind a glass screen. They were all so separate from me; fighting for me, fighting about me… and yet I was removed from it all. My eyes swiveled to the view outside of the window and the sounds of the birds fluttering about the branches of the cherry blossom tree seemed heightened, drowning out the empassioned shouting around me. I'd never known that sort of freedom and yet it was the reason why I'd become a Guardian of Death in the first place; so that I might have a second chance to do so. I walked over to the window and stared out, resting one hand against the glass as the others stood in silence behind me, watching and awaiting a reaction.

But I didn't have anything to say. It had all been said. I'd fought with my reasons, my rationalisations and it had all been neatly refuted. There was no way of justifying this. Being with Muraki would make me as great a sinner as he. At the very least, a sinner of Oriya's status; someone who would stand by and allow it to happen. Ignore it. Deny it. Hide it.

That silence reminded me of the times in my past, when I would stand behind the window of my home in Tokyo and watch the children outside play. They would never let me join in their games because of my strange eyes. If I so much as stepped outside, they would hurl rocks and abuse at me. One such day, Ruka had stepped in behind me and set her gentle hands down upon my shoulders, almost taller than her own. She had only been diminuative, see? She would sing her song to me, to remind me that one day I would be free to shred my restrictions and set myself free from everything.

"When you feel the urge to cry and you can't hold back your tears,

Don't be ashamed to let me see,

Don't hide your eyes from me.

Let's walk across the bridges railing, hand in hand in case we slip,

I'll hold you steady while I'm here,

As the wind sweeps through our hair.

Those tears will fade away and I'll pick you up in my arms,

I'll carry you to the new sea

Wherever we land we'll be.

Shrug off your shoes and we'll dance across the breaking waves,

Oh kiss the damp sand beneath our feet,

Soon you'll smile and you'll laugh carelessly.

Then I'll kiss your fingers one by one

And ask you to close your eyes

Tell me how it feels, to be in love

For the very first time

Don't be a stranger to new love

Don't run back and slip your feet into your shoes

Before you run, let us plunge

Beneath the waves, I'll lean in close and you'll hear me say;

"I was born to fall in love with you. And I'm here to make you smile!

Isn't that enough for now?"

I want to know you're reassured, that you know I won't lie to you

Someday you won't have to be afraid

Of what anyone expects of you

You'll shrug off their words like your old shoes and we'll go dancing across the sand

Someday we'll find our place to land

Give me a smile; slip your fingers into my hand

Propel yourself through that window and open your arms

Your wings will catch the wind

The day will come when you can wake up and smile

To be in love is no one's sin

You and I will meet again, when you find that distant sea

And dance hand in hand across the sand

The time we'll finally go free."

And I suddenly knew what I had to do.

**- ****EC -**


	30. Tsuzuki: Old Shoes and Fireflies Pt 2

**Dark Adaptation**

**Disclaimer: **Descendants of Darkness, affiliated characters, locations and concepts… are all fictionalized concepts and any relation to any persons living or dead is unintentional and completely fucking creepy.

Also, I don't own it. Thankyou.

Death Precedes us with a Knowing Smile

_**Part Two of Two: Old Shoes and Fireflies.**_

If I told you that I want nothing more

And all those dreams of riches I'd abandon on the floor

Then would you see, lying here with me

That all I want is you?

Is you?

If I kissed your lips and promised eternally,

What place steals your heart becomes a home for me.

Then would you see, lying here with me,

That all I want is you?

Is you?

I can't keep it locked inside,

These feelings I can't hide

If I lost you then I would surely die

Now can you see, how it steals the words from me?

And all I want is,

All I need is,

All I want is you.

_**Damien Leith: "All I want is you" –**_

Tsuzuki 

I placed my bag down beneath an outcropping of the surrounding wall and sat upon it a moment to catch my breath. I do not think that I had paused once since breaking through the Ministry window, not once since I had broken free from both building and name and place and time. And I can honestly say now, that I do not remember much of that moment. That single, immeasurable second when I went from being Asato Tsuzuki the Guardian of Death, to this strange new person, who was as much a mystery to myself as he was to everyone else around him. I do remember the stinging of the glass, the shards that dug deep beneath my flesh and drew blood as thick as tears.

I remember the moments before it as clear as day.

I turned upon Tatsumi, my face an odd contrasting blankness to the intricately tangled mesh of my thoughts. I turned upon him. And at the same time, I turned my back to him.

"Tatsumi…" He gazed upon me as though attempting to breach an eternal abyss, eyes peering into unrelenting, unfathomable darkness. And for the first time, the fear of this ever-widening space between us seemed to frighten him. He reached for me, as though to draw the stone wall back to the cliff face, even as it disappeared into the nighttime nadir of Hell below. His chest started to heave; his shoulders rose and fell in symphony of greatest desolation.

"Tsuzuki… don't look at me like that." And he suddenly seemed afraid, as though he had realized the person to whom he was speaking was not just a complete stranger to him but someone of terrifying repute. I imagine could he have forgotten his self-instilled sagacity to salvage my diluted soul by any means, he would have done so right at that single moment; when the look in my eyes told him without words that I no longer wished to be saved.

"Tatsumi…" I turned about, until I almost faced him entirely and both he and Wakaba, who had also brought herself to her feet, took a perfectly synched step back. "You say that you cannot release me… because I would find myself undone, to the greatest degree possible. I would be destroyed. You seem almost certain in your convictions. Is it a certainty that this would come to pass Tatsumi? Well?"

"Stop it…" He hissed. His head was lowered, his bottom lip clenched so tightly between his teeth that the tissue had already begun to swell. "What do you have to gain from this, Tsuzuki…?"

I held my hands out toward him, cupped them together to make a space between, with my thumbs aligned together to provide a sort of doorway.

"Look at me." I said. I waited until I had his reluctant attention and then held my hands up higher for his inspection. "Have you ever kept a cricket in a box, Tatsumi?"

I thought that I might have touched upon a nerve here, the way that his skin suddenly tightened around the mouth, the way that his brows dipped and quavered as though suspended upon the end of a string. His eyes locked upon the pear shaped cup of my hands before he then in turn raised his own and introspectively placed their sides together, so that both palms were presented towards the ceiling. He took them in, as though the lines of his hands were the most wondrous things of which he had been remiss of until that very moment.

"When… I was a boy…" He said and in the same instance appeared to verily regret and despise these words. And yet it seemed to me that to halt their flow, would be as difficult as to prevent the drops of moisture that ran from a melting glacier. Once exposed to the slightest change in the clime to which it is accustomed, ice will either harden to a glass like state, or it shall dissolve and flow away to other places. Before my eyes, over a half decades worth of hopes and beliefs were drifting away with the tide. "I used to go into the fields surrounding our home and… catch fireflies in a bug cage." He brought his thumbs together, creating the pit between his palms in much the same manner that I had. "They were so beautiful, that I wanted to bring them to my own home. Release them there… and exist with them. But by morning," He opened up his hands, as though releasing something from between them. "They were always dead."

Eyes shut; he tilted his head back so that the tears I could already see welling within them, would not fall across his cheeks. I thought my heart might break from being forced to bear witness to the sight of my dear friend, melting away from within.

"That's right, Tatsumi." I said, bowing my head in a short series of deep, slow nods. "Crickets or fireflies… it's no different for the most part. Free a cricket from its' box and there's a good chance it will die. But should you try to hold onto it… then there is no doubt that it will die."

Tatsumi tried to be strong but he could see that there was no more use in resisting my will. I had finally stumbled upon the words that he had already been convinced of; though perhaps in another place, with another scenario in his heart. Though it was cruel and heartless, it was the only sure way, out of the many thousands of variations to which our conversation might have led, which would have granted him opportunity to understand. Such was his love for me, his pure love for me laid bare, that no degree of reasoning to which I could attest, would allow him to see reason. He would not see reason as I had. Only if he too had once envisioned the rationalization, could he truly fathom my decisions as truth. To him, I suppose I shall always be a firefly in the black of night. No more. No less. But to take me out of that night and into the warmth of his security would only see my life prolonged in a state to which I was not fit to survive. A firefly only shines in the dark.

Tatsumi had no doubt found it immensely difficult to understand my actions. Not only in submitting to the will of Muraki but by in addition choosing him, for whatever means to which he might serve as my paramour. He could sense that I was troubled. He must have seen the love I held in my eyes for the person I had once hated so blindly that nothing had come close to even comparing to such passion. I didn't pretend to understand how this has all came to pass, even now, sitting here as I am, beside the man who has changed my life in such innumerable ways. But in that moment, on that day, Tatsumi and I came to an understanding between the two of us.

To see him smile after having maintained such grim features for so long almost caught me off guard. But it was not a loving smile. Rather, a grim acknowledgement of having been brought undone by his own disclosure.

"It was not so long ago, that I found myself thinking of such things. In Kanagawa." He now looked upon his hands with sadness. "I came to the conclusion that… there are things that exist, that are most beautiful when left in their own world'." His beautiful eyes rose from the elegant curl of his hands and swam into my own with such softness, I felt as though I were looking into the awning of a sapphire blue lake, born anew from the surrender of snow and ice, to warmer climes and changing worlds. Should a tear flow, it was of no concern anymore. Not now when the sky had opened and the final rain had descended upon us all.

"Tsuzuki," He said, so soft I thought that he had submerged the words beneath the persistent flowing river gushing forth from his soul. "I suppose in my heart of hearts, I have always known that you were one of these very things. I just… did not wish to see it. I hoped that it might… have been possible for you to exist this way with us. But all this time, it has been smothering you, hasn't it?" He put a hand to his chest as though listening to his heart. "Existence to you has been painful because a part of you has always been locked away. It's strange…" He slashed his hand across his face, trying desperately to hide the sorrow from his eyes. "In Kyoto, when I considered giving you over to death… it was not nearly quite so painful as the thought of where your feet might land, once I release you into the night."

"Let that be my responsibility for once, Tatsumi." I faced the window again, opening my arms wide so that the blanket fanned down from my fingers to the floor. The white shroud has many representations in its' form; that of life, in birth, that of death in the form of the shroud that covers the face. But in my case, I felt only freedom in that expression. White wings, something of which I could never hope to achieve. Not with my track record. But these were not the wings of the angelic, nor were they the gauze of innocence that draped the divine in passing. No, these were the symbols only, to present to any of whom looked upon me with fair and honoring eyes, that I was now a free man.

After ninety-seven years… I was free.

In light of such a compelling notion, do you honestly feel that glass could have stood in my way? You would be wrong to think so. Not when his Majesty Enma had failed to bear me down until my face had sloughed upon the ground.

Glass and tears. Cherry blossoms and fireflies. Tatsumi's pleading cries, Terazuma's angry exclamations and loudest of all, the roaring tide above it all, Hisoka's indomitable silence.

As soon as my broken body had renewed itself, the moment I took my first step towards the stairs leading down and out from the Ministry building, my title of Guardian had been compromised, perhaps indefinitely. Who was to say what would become of me? Would I die out here? Would I find what I was searching for and would I be happy when I did?

Only one thing was for certain. That the very first step I made from that glass-weathered path was into a night that parted for my light, for the very first time.

**- XxXxXxXxXx -**

Tokyo's weather had not improved since the morning. Rather it had considerably worsened. In the ten minutes it took me to run the few blocks to the hotel Sakura Zensen my clothes were soaked through and my hair plastered wet across my face and scalp. My bones, only just healed from my fall from grace (or less poetically, the Ministry's fourth floor window) ached as I forced them to continue moving. Arms and legs pumping, breaths racing from my mouth in a thick fog, I ran from my old life and into the uncertain night before me, not sure whether the wetness I felt upon my face was from the rain or the tears I'm sure must have been falling.

The receptionist holding fort at Sakura Zensen almost jumped clear of her skin as I came slamming through the front partition, as though Satan himself was hot on my heels. She actually stood up and peered in my wake with one hand on the phone, as though expecting some manner of monstrosity to barrel in behind me. Huffing, I waved a hand to assure her that my rude entrance was not due to my being pursued by Hell's chariots and she finally relaxed, sliding her perfectly manicured fingernails off of the phone and her backside back into the seat.

"Some… weather out there… huh?" I panted, shaking off my sopping jacket to demonstrate reasoning behind my gale force rush to get inside. She offered a curt smile that seemed to quaver when great puddles of water started to form on the linoleum beneath my feet. Had I not been in such a frantic state, I might have possessed the decency to offer to mop up my own mess before leaving but as it was, I doubted I had the time. Though Tatsumi had acknowledged my reasoning, I wasn't sure he would have been pleased by my particular choice of exit. Window repairs were expensive. And it was only so long until Enma found out about my little mutinous insurrection, so I felt it prudent to get as much distance between us as I was verily capable of.

"Well, have a good night." I said, stepping over to the elevator and then, thinking better of it, dashed over to the stairwell and slipped inside. The light above me flickered, reminding me uncannily of the lime green corridor in the Other Place but that was all the thought I gave it. I was only on the third floor and I was fit and healthy. No reason I couldn't take the stairs. It would save me time too, not having to wait for the car to hit the foyer.

Once I'd reached my floor, I dashed across the hall and unlocked the front door to my apartment, slipping inside as though hiding from some unseen pursuant. Glancing around the kitchen, I saw that Muraki had indeed tidied up before leaving that morning. The Formica counters were spotless, the titanium sink shining and the dishes all stacked away neatly. Quickly peeking into the bathroom assured me that the Superintendent must have let the workmen in that Muraki called that morning because the shower glass and door lock were both repaired. The full-length mirror had been replaced by an antique, which looked more expensive than everything else I owned added up. It might have seemed anal, which it was but having Muraki around was not unlike being married to a meticulous woman I would imagine. (Oh come on… I think that's fair to say!) He kept my place looking so neat and had he not have just jilted me, I could visualize myself coming home to a hot meal and a warm house. It was true he spoiled me. It didn't make up for any of his other vices but had he possessed none of these, he would have been the perfect partner. It made me sigh a little as I switched the bathroom light off and shut the door behind me. That was life I guess; you can only expect the unexpected. Had Muraki been a normal human being, he would no doubt have been unable to accept my past monstrosities with such ease. Would he have been able to love me the same way? Or was it only because we were both monsters that he was able to look at me with that desire burning in his one shining eye?

Well, it wasn't something I was ever likely to find out in any event. 'What ifs' are only a waste of time and time was one thing I presently didn't have on my side.

How I do love the sixties. **(2)**

I switched on the light in my bedroom (bed neatly made of course) and opened up the very cupboard, which Muraki had been hiding in that morning. Dammit, he had only been in my apartment once and yet everywhere I looked there were memories of him!

My travel case was stored in the top shelf and I pulled it out as carefully as I could, removing a pair of shoes I'd obviously forgotten about on my last trip. Not really paying attention to any particular item, I packed a heap of essentials in every nook and cranny, remembering my mobile phone charger and toothbrush at the last second. I was just wheeling the damn thing out the door when I remembered that I'd forgotten to pack a single article of underwear and was forced to retrace my steps all the way back to the bedroom. While I squeezed my undergarments in every which way, I called for a taxi, urging the company to send one as soon as was reasonably possible. The nice gentleman on the other end of the line assured me that he could have one there in the next ten minutes and I thanked him enthusiastically before hanging up. Having a bit of time on my hands gave me a chance to think about what other belongings I might take and after some consideration added some books, Kazusa's toys and the photo of my colleagues, whom I was probably likely to not see for a very long time now. I then left my apartment, locked the door behind me and took my suitcase down in the elevator to the foyer. Granted, I received another strange look from the receptionist when I nearly burst into tears, thinking I might never bid her a good morning or a good night again. You must understand how very emotional this all was for me! My entire existence was turning about to take a whole new direction, after so long of heading full steam ahead towards the safe and comfortable route. Small pleasures and secured benefits was not the kind of happiness that can sustain a person indefinitely however. I no longer wanted to feel myself bereft of these things others could so easily obtain. To do what others did by natural instinct would require something a little more spectacular on my behalf and that's exactly what it would take to point my old shoes in that new direction.

The taxi arrived after only five minutes of waiting and the driver helped me load my suitcase into the trunk of the car. He seemed a jolly fellow with a small, round face and wide eyes that he didn't blink much but that is all I can really remember about him. He was another fleeting face in the kaleidoscope of my mind; another sunset, another postcard. I told him the address of my new direction as I buckled in and he assured me that he was familiar with that area of town. I recall that he tried more than once to engage me in conversation during the drive but I was distracted, eyes trained on the streaming lights of the houses that blew past without pause. Now that my momentum had stalled (my personal momentum that is) I was only now starting to concern myself with my actions and a small seed of doubt was insistently attempting to take root in the pit of my stomach. I tried to be nice and answer all the drivers' questions but eventually he saw that my heart wasn't in it and fell silent, turning up the radio so that it would not seem too awkward.

A half hour later, the cab pulled up by the curb of Muraki Manor, rising white and tall and imposing into the darkness of the night that in turn seemed to rush forward to meet it. It seemed telling somehow, a sign from the gods to prove that I was following in that direction of which was intended for me.

I paid the driver the fare owed and thanked him with a series of deep bows, gushing how grateful I was for him to come out of his way like this. He smiled, as though entertaining the whimsy of a child and then popped the trunk so that I could remove my suitcase. At long last, I was left alone by the gates to the place I could only hope I would be permitted to call home, at least for a while. It wasn't as though I had anyone else to go. I couldn't stay in Sakura Zensen, which was owned by the Ministry. I couldn't go to some other hotel and stay indefinitely because my funds would not allow for it, not even a cheap place. And I didn't know Oriya Mibu at the time, so showing up at Kyoto and asking Watari if I could bunk down there for a while was out of the question, though I'm sure he would have argued my case for me.

Besides, Muraki was central to my plans. It would kind of defeat the purpose should I have gone elsewhere, other than straight to him.

I suppose a phone call to forewarn him of my presence would have been the considerate thing to do but I didn't actually have Muraki's phone number. Whenever we had talked on the phone, it had always been him doing the dialing and me doing the listening and or cursing. There was little I could do but simply turn up and hope he would let me in. I was almost one hundred percent certain he would, uncustomary as my running to him and not from him was. Perhaps he would be so shocked by this development he would have little choice but to open the gates, simply to get a better look. And if worse came to worse, I could always vault the stupid wall. I was a Guardian of Death after all. There wasn't much that could keep us out, once we'd made up our minds to get in.

Sodden with the weight of the rain and the depth of my thoughts, I pressed one dripping finger to the 'Talk' button on the intercom and keeping it depressed, leaned in close to speak. My voice quavered for a moment and I had to pause to clear my throat before continuing to speak.

"Is Kazutaka… Muraki there… please?" It came out in a rough, scratchy whisper anyway, so I couldn't see the point in my having cleared it in the first place. I released the 'Talk' button for a moment so that I could hear any response I might get.

A woman's voice eventually answered. "Who's calling please?"

I swallowed back a heavy lump that was working hard to take up shelter in the center of my throat and pressed the Talk button again. "Tell him… tell him that Asato Tsuzuki is out the front… please? Ask him if he will let me in."

The woman's voice, perhaps his housekeeper though I can't say I ever found out for sure, came back sounding gruff and tired. "The doctor is out at the moment. He instructed that I was to let no one in whilst he was absent."

"Um… excuse me, madam?" I leaned closer, as though it were actually her ear into which I was speaking, rather than the intercom. "Do you know where he has gone? I need to speak with him, quite urgently you see."

"You may speak with him when he returns. He did however confide that he had no further desire to see you Mr. Tsuzuki, so whether he chooses to speak with you is not something I can guarantee." Her firm voice left and no further amount of prompting from me could regain her attention.

Had Muraki actually told her this? Had he actually spoken to his staff and told them not to let me in to see him or speak to him? Was he up in the Main house right now, fully aware that I was down here by the gates, desperate to look upon his face, feel the steady rise of his chest against mine and his soft, perpetually cool lips shifting along my own?

I tried in vain to vault the fence, just to see if I could but as per my very own instructions that afternoon, Muraki had reinstated his protective barriers and I had not the will to negotiate them any more than this one slack attempt. I bounced off and landed hard on my backside in a puddle and I was suddenly reminded of a similar situation in which I had found myself face down in a gutter, only two weeks ago. Muraki had stepped back into my own life, just as I had been considering what a debacle it was and gave me a purpose to bear forward. I hadn't seen it that way at the time but Muraki became for me the calm I had sought for so long. I didn't have to pretend to be anything better than what I was around him. I didn't stress over the terrible things I had done because in his presence nothing I had done could even measure up. I didn't care whether he judged me. I didn't care if he saw the blood beneath my nails, so to speak. With him, I was comfortable in that much at least.

And I knew then that all I really wanted was to be with him. Just him and no one else. And despite all that had fallen between us, that I was glad to have had the chance to know him. I regretted only the pain that knowing him had caused other people and regretted nothing for myself. No longer did I have any doubt that it was God's intention to bring us both together and as such only something good could surmount from it.

On a very similar rainy night, that long fortnight past, I recalled vivid thoughts about the people we pass in life and how our memories create a photo album in our minds. Some people stand only in the background and their faces never make any sort of particular impact. Others, you deliberately aim the camera towards because perhaps you love them and want to take their picture. Friends, family, colleagues, lovers, those sorts of people. Always in the foreground. Always in focus.

Having met Muraki that very first time, his was a face that was never out of focus in the photo album of my memories. Before I even knew his name, his was the face to which the camera turned to capture every time we were together. And those people that are of value to us, we provide with a proof of our affection.

Had Muraki not turned out to be a murdering degenerate, I would have sent him a postcard. We could have had sunsets together. Taken pictures that lasted a lifetime in both mind and print. I could have taken him out to dinner with all of my friends and he too could have established bonds with them. Well… perhaps not Tatsumi. I'm not sure that the two of them could have ever gotten along, not in any walk of life. They're far too much alike for that!

We could have moved in together and I could have taken care of the garden for him. I would plant tulips and raise them until they were tall and strong, something I hadn't done since leaving my last home and moving to the Sakura Zensen were a window box was hardly satisfactory conditions to conduct any sort of gardening endeavor. We could have watched movies together every night and not have to concern ourselves with anyone catching us together. And we could have made love. Even in the rain, I could feel my face growing hot from my audacious thoughts because it was apparent to me now more than ever before that initiating sex with Muraki was something I desperately desired. To see the look on his face as I assumed control, perhaps demonstrating unexpected confidence by grasping that thick hank of heat between his legs and then lowering myself onto it, feeling it stretch and fill and destroy me. I wanted to feel him make claim to me and I in return, particularly after the egotistical show of Enma and the Count's. I wanted more than ever to do as they feared I would and make Muraki master of all that came part in parcel with me. I wanted to leave little marks upon his neck, marks he couldn't leave upon mine because of my healing ability and bruise his flesh with proof of my passion. I wanted him to kiss and suck my mouth, caress my tongue with his own and slide those delicate eyeteeth into the skin of my neck as he came, rupturing my innocence and flesh in the one mesmeric act.

I wanted him to lay siege to me, as no one had ever done before and in so doing end this fools game of trying to claim the end of my Lead.

I could have become quite good at the sex thing too, if Muraki had but given me the chance to learn. It would have been easy… because the first time I saw him, it's true that I thought him beautiful, unlike any man I had ever seen before. Not because he was perhaps the most handsome, or the tallest, or the trimmest or whatever it is that contemporary standards of beauty are judged by but because he was so different to everyone else. No one else had hair that color, or eyes that somber. No one looked at me with such a beguiling expression. There was none other whom possessed skin so soft yet cool to the touch, no one whose voice stirred the depths of my tiding ardor and whom kissed me at times with such ravenous ferocity you might have thought it was going out of fashion but could in the same breath tease the hairs of my skin with his lips so tenderly that a very human chill would trace up this long dead creatures spine.

Lord, how he'd plundered me! He made my very essence ache for the dread horror that my soul might never be redeemed, divided as I was over this angelically evil man.

On that first day we had met, until he'd starting spouting creepy shit about the weakness of the human race, I myself had been especially cautious as to how I phrased my speech. Muraki was a doctor and clearly an upper class gentleman and I'd been trying so desperately not to embarrass myself that I could barely think about anything else!

Because I had wanted him to like me. I was hoping that after we had taken care of the little girl (and before I got back to murdering Hisoka for missing our lunch date) that we would go for a cup of coffee and just talk. We might have even got as far as dinner! I was hoping he would want to see me again and not because he planned to use my body in some illogical cloning experiment but for a more simple reason. Because he thought I was cute. He didn't wear a band on his ring finger, not even to indicate that he was engaged, so I'd let myself get carried away with the thought that I might have had a shot. Because… well, let's face it; as far as guys go, Muraki is one of the more good looking ones. Or as the young folk might say; he was hot. Not to mention he was smart and well dressed and his manners outside of the murdering thing were really rather good. The eyeball I'll admit doesn't do much for me but… at the time my only thought was that if he was indeed missing an eye, it probably meant he was a little more vulnerable due to his altered appearance and if possible, it made him seem even more attractive, as a result.

At that first meeting, Muraki was the first man in a very long time that I had actually found myself interested in. Then of course he had to ruin all that by becoming one of the greatest threats I had ever known and in addition being the cause of my partner's death and the death's of a lot of other people beside.

But I couldn't keep thinking such things anymore. It wasn't fair on Muraki; laugh as you might to hear such words. Had that curse fallen upon anyone else who had been tormented in his or her childhood the same way that Muraki had, then they themselves may have become just as bad if not worse than him. It was this curse that was to blame and Muraki was only one of many victims, who might very well be horrified in the event that I might successfully release him from it. I liked to think that I had seen the true Muraki; the one not affected by the curse and it was this base person, not the murderer, whom I had fallen in love with.

I left my suitcase in the shelter and instead interred myself within the embrace of the downpour, blinking dripping lashes at the impenetrably blackness scouring the sky as far as the eye could see. Not a star shone in the darkness, not a firefly and not a light. No crickets sang. I could feel my own glow seeming to extinguish in the tears, as though all the Heavens were weeping at my predictable plight. I could almost imagine the steam rising up off of my body, the foreclosure of my forward momentum coming to a grinding halt at last.

One drunken night when Watari and I had retired to my apartment to finish off the revelry with a couple of beers and a D and M, he knocked my sideways by posing a rather interesting theory of the human condition, that I haven't failed to forget despite how drunk I was at the time.

He took my own musings on the unnatural suspension of the cherry blossom trees in the grounds of the Ministry of Hades to enforce his point. Human beings, he told me, were the product of lives lived in never faltering, ceaseless locomotion. Of forward momentum, even if we were to move in the reverse or to the side or up or down. Regardless of what direction we take, we are defined by that continuing movement and systematically encode our lives with the beat of that flow. The blood in our veins, the breath in our lungs and the steps of our feet all correspond to a continued, never ceasing forward thrust, that turns the great mechanics of the universal machine and negotiates the flow of time itself. It is provisionary there go that transience in all things, is of equal importance. It is the very nature that governs us and through which we define ourselves.

He spoke of an obscure pre-Socratic philosopher by the name of Zeno, who surmised that the act of locomotion itself, of forward progression, was in and of itself nothing more substantial than illusion in the very act. But Watari himself felt that this was an incorrect standpoint and that the power of forward motion was vital to the sustaining of all things.

All life exists in flux. Holding onto the cherry blossoms and sustaining life when that life has already faltered, is like kick starting an old gear in the works that ought really to be replaced. We both agreed, that drunken night, that perhaps our very being there was as wrong as the elongated life of the Sakura flowers. To propose that all existence is centered within a Universal machine, should the old gears be kick started over and over and never replaced, the whole thing is affected and the momentum of the entire world comes to slow down and indeed falter as a result. Momentum therefore is not illusion but the most powerful force that governs us.

There are even some languages out there that make very distinct differences in the way in which they describe things. In Japan, it is difficult to distinguish a hotel from the hotel, for example. Ours is not a complex language if it need not ought be. But older tribal races had words not just to define different things but different states as well. They even have words to differentiate between an object that is at motion and one that is not. Through which we might interpret, that the object in their language is indeed defined by its' movement and if it stops, then it is called something else entirely. A different name is used to describe it and it is no longer that which it was when it was traveling forward.

Standing there before the gates of Muraki manor, I came to realize just how delicate the human condition was. My momentum had carried me this far but could carry me no further. There was no going forward and it was too late to retreat. I'd effectively run out of steam and whatever I had been defined as whilst running towards Muraki was not who I was any longer. Once momentum has ceased, we can no longer be defined by it. By the time we stop moving, we cease to exist.

Such thoughts sorrowed me, so I can't imagine how my face must have looked, when caught in the headlights of the car that had just ascended the prominence to my left. I titled my head sidelong to take it in, not particularly concerned but drawn nonetheless by the glow that fell upon me; a glow similar to that which I had hoped would soon define myself.

I suppose the driver was startled by the intensity of my features because the next thing I knew, they were slamming on the brake and swerving into the curb beside me. Water lapped around my already sodden pant hems but I had barely a moment to reflect on it before the car door had flung open and Kazutaka Muraki rose up to meet me.

The look in his visible eye was clearly troubled as he took me by the shoulders and looked me over, side to side and up and down. I heard him sigh, as though relieved that some fear he'd had did not come to pass.

"So it's you," He said, which I found a little ungrateful considering all the Hell I'd gone through to get here. "When I saw you standing in the rain… you looked so much like… Oh, never mind." He shook his hair, already doused flat by the rain and flashed me an insolent look, as though I were a child caught in the out of bounds area by a teacher. "What are you doing here, Mr. Tsuzuki?"

I pinched my eyes close in anger and said at length, "What do you suppose I'm doing here?" It was very soft and didn't sound nearly as angry to me as my face no doubt presented. Muraki didn't answer for a while but calmly watched me as the rain drenched us through, flattening hair and shirts and beading small drops upon his glasses that reflected a thousand sorrowful faces of me.

He sighed deeply, his own eye narrowing though not in anger. It made him look thoughtful rather and or perhaps a little dreamy. "I imagine you are here because you have come to realize something about yourself that I had known a long time ago."

"Which is?" I asked, as he brushed a strand of wet hair behind my ear, his fingers coming to rest beneath my chin, his thumb brushing across it.

He smiled a little, almost teasing. "That you were trapped. And that you were being smothered where you were and that if you didn't escape, you would eventually die. It's a testament to your strength that you have survived for so long, when inside you've no doubt been screaming for a better solution."

I gazed upon him with sadness. Sadness for myself, that I had not been able to figure such things out on my own and sadness for Muraki, being the only one capable of having done so.

"Is that how it is?" I whispered as he caressed the ridges of his fingers across my cheek. He gave the smallest of nods, barely a millimeter dip of his chin. We hadn't yet removed our eyes from each other's and I thought not even a meteor dropping down beside us could have broken our connection.

"I think you're here because you are done with being saved." He said, a bead of water dripping down off of the tip of his nose. I found myself wanting to catch it, to sample anything that had been in contact with that beautiful, enamoring skin. He too looked upon me with eyes all too thirsty and not for the gallons of water that had already fallen down upon us. I could see it in his eyes that he wanted to bear me down without my clothes and raze my body with those pale pink lips and tongue. For starters. "Because I might have done that very thing for you today, Mr. Tsuzuki. By stepping out of your life and releasing you, you would have been spared from me. The only possible reason you could be standing here before me right now is because you've made that decision for yourself. And for the first time in almost a century, you are free."

I took his hand between my own, feeling it tremble and finding myself overwrought with desire for him. I'd never felt Muraki shake before. It made me want to do the very same; to open myself up to him, body and soul and let him plunder me until my body shivered to its' very foundations.

"Do you… want me to go?" I asked, thinking of what his housekeeper had said to me over the intercom. I felt great relief to see Muraki turn his head from side to side.

"No." He said, voice husky and deep with passion I'd never before seen quite so palpable. His thumb moved up to stroke my cheek and then his other hand, so that my entire face was supported by his palms. I felt warmth from them seep into my skin. "Never again." He kissed my forehead, my left eye, my cheek, one after the other and then my neck, languishing attention on my earlobe, clearly to remind me of that evening onboard the Queen Camellia when he'd come close to winning my favor for the entire night. I used to look back on that with relief; relief that Hisoka had stepped up in time to prevent it from happening. Now, I couldn't help but think of how dangerous and erotic the whole thing was. No doubt I would have enjoyed it given time to adjust but even then, it would have happened with a person that I did not love, which is against my highest principles.

But now… now I knew without doubt that I did love Muraki. And if I were to go to bed with him, it would have been for the right reasons. I would have waited for the right moment.

And after ninety-seven years, that kind of waiting is not easy. You're ready to just about fall in love with anyone, let me tell ya!

"That's good." I whispered, tilting my head a little, so that my mouth landed on his ear. "Because I wasn't planning to." I kissed the shell softly, giving it a little suckle that paused Muraki to stop in his own attentions. "You and I have an en Muraki. I suppose in my heart I have always known this."

The en is a our Japanese word to indicate a 'connection' or 'bond' between two people and most often employs the use of a simile for this connection, as a pot taking shape upon a potters wheel. All people we come into contact with during the course of our lives make finger marks; some are shallower than others, whilst many are simple grazes or perhaps only a half fingerprint. Others leave deeper, more profound markings that cut deep and can never be successfully smoothed out. Muraki had left this same impression upon me. He would always be present in the tableau that was my existence; a figure in the foreground and never out of focus. In Western civilizations the closest similarity I suppose would be a soulmate. It is that self same sense of the eternal bond that ties two spirits together in the center and can never be untangled.

He was close enough for me to reach his jacket and I deftly unwove the buttons, ripping the halves open in order to let the rain soak through. I watched with great anticipation as the thin material of his shirt clung to his chest, the combination of the cold air and moisture causing his nipples to peak hard and eager. I could see them through the material and my hormones stirred so majestically, that I didn't catch myself in time to stop that manic urge to run my fingers over them, caressing the shirt material against the pale little nubs, as Muraki's upper torso emitted an odd little quake.

He slowly raised his lips from my neck and brought his face up until it was pointed directly down towards mine. We looked into one another, each searching for a lie, each hoping for the truth. I suppose in the end we adequately met one another's expectations because a second later, he was over by the gate, picking up my bag and bringing it over to the car. He looked down at it, then back at me with a smile.

"Terribly presumptuous, Mr. Tsuzuki." He said, giving it a little shake. "You seemed confident that I would let you stay."

I gave a little shrug as I took the suitcase off of him and slid it into the backseat of the car. "Don't pretend that doesn't make you happy."

He came up behind me and pressed his lips against the back of my neck, stirring the little hairs there with his warm breath. "You have no idea."

**XxXxXxXxXx –**

Muraki drove us to the house and helped me bring my suitcase up the stairs to his room, where he ordered that I strip off my wet clothes and change into the proffered yukata he offered me from the wardrobe.

He ran the bath while I did this and then went downstairs to bring some supplies upstairs to make me a cup of tea. I watched him as he dallied about by the credenza, having shed his own clothes for a yukata also. I had a sudden thought, which I felt really ought be addressed before I came off looking like an altogether insensitive cad.

"You were at the hospital, right?" I asked, accepting the cup of tea and then blowing gently on the surface to cool the liquid enough to drink. "Seeing Ukyou?"

He sat down next to me, nursing his own cup and nodded. "Yes indeed."

"How is she?"

He sighed deeply, somnolently, as he added another cube of sugar to his tea and then stirred it, though without really seeing it. "Very ill, as you can imagine. She lost a lot of blood and the sternocleidomastoid muscles on the left side of her neck were badly damaged."

"What does that mean?" I asked, hoping it was something that could be treated. Muraki pointed to his own neck as he moved his head from side to side, around and up and down.

"The sternocleidomastoid muscles work through contraction. You contract one muscle; it rotates the face towards the opposite side and tilts the head towards the shoulder of the same side. It makes these sorts of movements possible." He lowered his face back towards his tea and held the cup gently in both hands. "There's extensive tissue damage, not to mention the fact that she was raped. I recovered a few hairs left behind by whoever did it and am preserving them for use as evidence, if we should need it. Since there's little doubt that the rapist neglected to use a condom, there's likelihood that Ukyou might fall pregnant. A blood test showed that she was ovulating at the time of the attack. Jesus Christ… what a mess." He rubbed the bridge of his nose for a second, seeming immeasurably tired but stopped when he saw me looking on with concern. "Suffice to say, she's in no fit shape to speak at the moment. I only had enough time to enquire as to whether or not she remembered anything. She indicated that she hadn't, which might be a good thing considering." He left it at that but I got his meaning all the same.

"But… bad if you should fall under fire." I reached over and placed my fingers around his wrist, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand. He smiled at me, shamefaced.

"Well, I can't worry about that. Ukyou's going to need me more than ever in the next few weeks." He was looking at me, as though it just suddenly came to mind that he should kiss me and he leaned over, placing his tea on the credenza and only got so far before my hand met him halfway there.

"I just… want to establish something." I said, trying not to laugh at the expression on his face. I put my own tea down and faced him as best I could without the yukata affording him too much of a glimpse. "Not four hours ago, you were ready to forsake me forever. It didn't seem to matter to you then what might happen to me should you nick off for good."

Muraki arched a perfect silver brow. "Forsake you forever?" He chuckled with stunned amusement. "What on earth gave you such a stupid idea?"

I stared at him, unable to comprehend what I was hearing. "'What gave me such a –' Are you completely mental?! Listen to yourself! You said when next we met, we would be enemies!"

"You said it yourself, Mr. Tsuzuki." He retrieved his tea and took a quick, scalding chug from it. "That you're tired of being saved by everyone around you. The only sure way that I could save you was by putting you in a situation where you had to make a choice for yourself. Had I of taken you away, saved you, brought you here of my own will, it would always remain entirely my fault. I would always be the one to blame, in their eyes as well as your own." He shook one finger teasingly in my face. "Not my responsibility anymore, Mr. Tsuzuki. Not anyone's. Only your own. In doing so, you have come to me of your own accord and convinced both yourself and myself of your true feelings. It was the only way."

I could see the truth in his words as it was only hours previous that I had thought of such things myself. But it hardly dissuaded from the fact that he had bitterly wounded me by his actions and I wanted him to be held accountable for it. I suppose he could see that from the look in my eyes because he sighed and set his teacup down again.

"All right then. I can see that you are unsatisfied by this. If it is the whole uncensored truth that you desire, far be it from me to deny you of it." He linked his hands together and set them down on his raised knee, watching me as though I were the one of great interest. "You, my dear, have become to me what is widely regarded as an Achilles. Do you know of what I speak?"

I assumed that he meant Achilles, as in the Greek hero who was only stopped when shot in the tendon of his ankle of the same name by a Trojan prince. In that vein, I interpreted his meaning as a vulnerability. "Achilles… as in a weakness, right?"

He nodded deeply, eyes shut to momentarily contemplate his next words. "That's right. Not just to others but to myself as well." His eyelashes fluttered apart to reveal a burning, despairing ember buried deep within his soul. "I brought you back into my life with only one intention, Mr. Tsuzuki. To destroy you."

My eyes widened but Muraki didn't stop. The words kept flowing as though he prayed that in saying them faster, they would hurt me less, ironically enough.

"To do as I did this day and see you despair with nothing to fall back upon. Wrought and defenseless, despairing and desperate. So that I might abandon all my feelings for you, that I have suffered with since childhood and finally be free. To make you love me and then give you up… it's the one power I have truly wanted for so long. And today, I finally had it."

Blood roared between my ears and before I could stop it my emotions exploded forward and tears were streaming down my face. I was so stunned, so obliquely shocked that I put my back to him, turning around and curling up in order to bring my cheek down against the pillow, muffling my sobs into the cream fleshed casing.

"So all this time… you did mean to hurt me!" I whimpered, rubbing the back of my hand hurriedly over my eyes. The entire reality of what I had done seemed to hit me then and I was suddenly and unaccountably terrified. What Muraki had just admitted had put everything into perspective for me. I was alone. He was the one person I was depending on to provide me sanctuary from those people that I loved. I had played directly into his hands; fallen hook line and sinker! And I understood how oblivious I had been and the precarious situation into which I had so casually entered. "I… should have known better…"

I felt, as much as saw his shadow as he leaned over me, blocking the light. "I didn't want to admit it... I would have given anything if I could have hated you. If the sight of you crying by my gates in the rain made me laugh instead of weep... The truth was... at that very moment, it was myself I hated." His voice cracked a little, lost its' hard edge. "I hate my weakness. I hate my inability to fling you away, as I would any other doll. And the only thing that I can despise you for is that I love you with all my heart."

The right side of my face was now deeply saturated by the tears coursing down from my eyes. That felt warm beneath the emotional onslaught. "You bastard... you could leave me to die from the pain of my tears and now you come crawling, spouting declarations of love? You did that before... and then turned around and tried to tear my head from my neck. The only difference now is that it is my heart you have cut out. You've broken it." I didn't move but swiveled my eyes so that I could draw him into my peripheral vision. "You've broken ME. Are you happy? Is this what you wanted?"

I could see his false eye shining in the dim light. "... Yes. And I'm heart sick with it. That here I have you shattered like the porcelain moon and it makes me want to cry as I have never done before. I must be in love... to hate myself so passionately..." His body was poised over mine, his tongue and cool soft lips picking their way across my face, siphoning off the tears that continued to run. Not yet prepared to forsake myself entirely, I ducked away and rolled over on the bed, pulling a pillow in tightly against my chest. A small flash of anger was beginning to stir in me.

"I have abandoned those that needed me... and I was fool enough to believe that _you_ needed me..."

The bed creaked under Muraki's weight as he lowered himself down behind me, arms sliding about my body and scooping me in against the line of his torso.

"The greater fool was me..." He said, chin trailing through the weaves of my still damp hair. "Me who thought I didn't need you and I could free myself from you. ... But I can't..." Though my hair was still drying, I could still fear the tears falling from Muraki's eye against the flesh of my scalp. "I no longer merely want you... not this body alone. I desire more; these tears... that smile... your laughter... your soul, your heart... I want all of it. ... I need you..."

I continued to sob, so utterly lost to myself. "I should just slice my wrists back open... everyone hates me because of you! I wanna die again! I want to be dead!!"

"Then I'll die too. I can't let you leave me... I can't ever be without you, not now, my darling." He kissed the side of my face and held me tight, until I could finally accept the sincerity of his body, even if I felt that his words were false. It was true that I needed him and should he have died, I would want to go with him too. It was these thoughts that lingered in my mind as I finally rolled over and pressed our tear stained faces together, lips hurriedly seeking out one another's touch. His arm came up and over to allow me to move in closer, scooping me in tightly as his lips devoured mine with unabashed desire, bare legs twining, fingers slipping here and there into places coveted. Places secretive. As my passions burgeoned violently, I could sense that things were taking a turn into the uncontrolled and I forcefully bought my mouth away, pressing my hands to Muraki's chest to hold him back. I stifled a small moan at bearing witness to the hunger in his eyes, as he silently implored me to fill that space between us and continue ever onward into that heightened world of exotic pleasures.

"You ran the bath…" I murmured, sliding my legs free and sitting up. His eyes darted briefly downward, clueing me in to the current state of my yukata. Blushing, I cinched it more tightly about my legs and swung them over the side of the bed, standing up. "I'm going to go wash… I want to be clean." I realize how stupid this sounded, considering the turn our evening had been just about to take. "And I want to think. You should get washed up to." I waved a hand at the urgent look on his face. "It's okay. I'll still be here when you're done. God knows I haven't got anywhere else to go."

Muraki nodded and climbed off of the bed, taking his cup of tea with him as he moved towards the door. "As you wish, Mr. Tsuzuki. Take your time." He didn't seem terribly disappointed by the delay but in adverse, seemed rather careless about the whole thing. I could only imagine why. Like I said, I wasn't going anywhere, so what good came from rushing?

After he'd left, I retrieved a pair of pajamas from my suitcase and relaxed in the warm water of the bath for a while. For some reason, Muraki had taken it upon himself to add some aromatic blend, so by the time I climbed out, I smelt like an odd mixture of lilacs and vanilla. Which wasn't too bad as far as I'm concerned but it sure as Hell added to the camp factor.

I changed into my favored pair of Chinese styled pajamas and stepped out of the mist filled bathroom, switching off the lights as I went. My suitcase was still sitting by Muraki's bed where I had left it and I felt a strange pang of excitement jolt through me, acknowledgement of this dramatic action I was taking. Be it good or bad in the long run, it was a shake up from my regular routine and I was enjoying it immensely.

I wasn't sure how long I would be staying with Muraki but I was enjoying this spur of the moment decision I had made. I'd never lived with a partner before; save the few occasions I had stayed over at Aki's but then, we had never moved in together. And Watari and I may have slept over at one another's places when we had been too drunk to make other alternative arrangements but that was different. We were friends and we usually fell asleep in our clothes anyway. This was… scary. But fun. I'd packed up my suitcase with most of my most treasured belongings; stuffed underwear, clothing and condiments in every which way and flown my butt over here. Playing it by ear… it gave me the illusion of being alive.

I knelt down and unzipped my suitcase, deciding that I would arrange myself a little more comfortably. I was no doubt going to be staying with Muraki for some time now and I hardly felt the need to go living out of a suitcase any longer then I had to.

I had only packed casual clothes (I had clearly lost my job at the Ministry by this stage and I wasn't about to go wearing any of my suits around just for the hell of it) and these I folded up in my unique interpretation of 'neatly' and carried them over to the cabinet on the right hand side of the bed. (I'd found my picture in the cabinet to the left of Muraki's bed, so I wagered that this was the one he primarily used to his own convenience.) True enough, the drawers were all almost completely empty and I squeezed my small stash of t-shirts, trousers, shorts, jumpers and underpants inside, leaving my two favorite pairs of shoes underneath the bed. I returned to the suitcase and unpacked the books I had thrown in at the last minute, placing them towering on the left side cabinet. The novel I was currently in the midst of reading was balanced precariously on the top; the pages dog-eared from my many previous attempts to get through it. (I'm not a fast reader and I tended to loose interest after a while, only to return later and read the same chapters over and over again). I unpacked some socks, the gifts that Pandora/Saki had given me, the diary, my trenchcoat, (which I hung up beside Muraki's numerous white jackets in the closet) Kazusa's left over toys and my mobile phone and charger, which I immediately plugged into the power point and arranged over my (it was clearly mine now) side of the bed. The stuffed toys I arranged at the foot of the mattress, where they stared up at me with doleful eyes. I gave them an approving look and then turned my gaze to take in the rest of the room, feeling that I had made it just that little more Tsuzuki.

So, it wasn't my cup of tea. Too neat. Too big. Didn't feel the least bit cozy. But it was getting there. I was sure I'd have plenty of time to rearrange everything to my liking over the next few weeks. (Le sigh.)

I switched off the main lights and turned on the bedside lanterns, casting the room into dim and gentle shadows. I wanted to switch on the television whilst I waited for Muraki to come back but knew that I would be too nervous to concentrate on anything that I attempted to watch. So I perched myself in the center of the bed, legs crossed and reading glasses balanced on the crook of my nose, making a feeble, light hearted attempt to negotiate my way through the next chapter of my novel. I usually try and avoid romance stories because the characters in the books seem to have more fun in the first five chapters, than I have had in my entire life. Chalk it up to sour grapes, if you must but I find it decidedly difficult to relate to what was going on and as such, really couldn't connect with the story. Tonight was no exception but my attention was wavering for an entirely different reason. I think I knew in my heart of hearts what to expect but I wasn't ready to admit it to myself, so I kept such assumptions at bay.

I glanced up as the door creaked open and Muraki slid into the room, dressed in the same thin yukata I had seen him wearing the night he had come back into my afterlife. He was wearing his glasses still but he'd since tidied up a little and brushed his hair. His cheeks were slightly rosy from the hot water in the shower and he had a bottle of red wine clutched about the neck in one hand; two wine glasses in the other.

He smiled at me serenely as I put my novel down and made to take my reading glasses off.

"Don't," He urged, coming towards the bed and setting the glasses down on the left hand cabinet. "You look lovely. I don't think I've ever seen you wearing glasses before, Mr. Tsuzuki."

I stuck my tongue out tartly at him. "I only wear them to help me read. I am an old man you know."

Muraki chuckled throatily. "So you are, so you are." He poured me a tall glass of wine (good, he was learning how to make proper measurements with these things) and passed it over before proceeding to pour his own. "Might I declare an impromptu toast, in light of this most unanticipated development?"

"Toast away." I beguiled, taking a deep, heady sniff from the surface of the wine. The scent was aged, matured and delicious. This was not a cheap bouquet to say the least.

Muraki's smile didn't waver as he lifted his glass subtly. "Here's to… the sincerity of one's self. The courage to face the truth and come to terms with that, which has terrified you since your childhood. I can only honor you, Mr. Tsuzuki. For being a stronger man than I."

I felt my eyes crinkle at the sides and my heart cinch painfully at his words and rather than taking a sip of my wine, I set it down and leaned up off of the mattress to clasp Muraki's spare hand in mine.

"Come here." I urged, gently encouraging him to sit upon the bed. His smile relaxing, he turned about and slid his bottom up onto the sheets, moving backwards until I was content that there was enough space for me to climb into his lap, pulling his spare arm around my waist. I held my face up to his; waiting for him to register my muted request and his eye met mine, when he finally caught on to the alignment of our chins. I parted my lips and he hesitated for only a second before placing his own upon mine, sucking my upper lip in tight. We parted just long enough to readjust the direction of our kiss and I opened my mouth just a little bit wider as I reapplied my lips to his, knowing instinctively that his tongue was going to dive inside before it did. Kissing like this, with that hot probing muscle stroking mine over and above, made me feel like a teenager; younger and sexy than I actually was. I cupped Muraki's cheek with my hand, feeling the softness of his skin as well as the strong comforting contours of his jaw line, shifting beneath the expanse of flesh and arteries. For the first time since we had been together, I finally felt as though everything were all right. I had admitted my feelings to more than just Muraki and my fellow Guardians of Death; most importantly, I had admitted them to myself and only then had I truly been free.

A small tear rolled down my cheek and I separated from the kiss with a tiny whimper, stroking Muraki's face desperately, honestly and nestled my cheek against the cool clean skin of his neck, closing my eyes and feasting in the bittersweet resolve of my new direction.

"I told you…" I whispered against his skin. "I'm no better than you. I'm tired of judging, judging, judging… my job description was to wrangle the souls in and there I was… pretending that I was so much better than you… It wasn't fair."

"There is no fair in cases such as mine," Muraki established, not untruthfully. I sighed, feeling my chest tighten with anxiety again.

"I'm not up for getting all philosophical with things tonight." I established, with a firm sense of finality. I shucked free of Muraki's hold and reached over to procure my glass of wine. It was heady and saturated in the taste of cedar and liberty. "It's been a long day and tomorrow my whole existence is going to change; possibly for the worse. So tonight, I want to try and enjoy myself." I gulped my wine down and refilled my glass, not missing Muraki's disapproving expression. "Oh, put your eyebrows down!" I scolded, hardly in the mood for putting up with a lecture and from Muraki no less! "I just said, didn't I, that I was up for enjoying myself tonight and seeing as how I don't have to go into work tomorrow, I might as well have a lousy hangover for all the harm it'll cause me."

Muraki just smiled as if to say he expected nothing more from me and then rose to his feet, moving towards the bay windows with his wine glass reflecting the small shards of light from the bedside lanterns. A sustained but comfortable silence fell between us, me steadily gulping down my wine (attempting to distill my residual bought of nervousness with numbing alcohol), Muraki stealing open the doors into the night, surveying the lights of the city and the ever darkening shadows. Were the other Guardians out there even now? Circling beyond the fair walls, cursing my name and questioning my soul? Tatsumi maybe. Hisoka seemed to have made peace with my decisions and would only probably experience a profound sense of sadness. The others? I doubted it. It was of no particular matter to them where lay my body during the noontime passing. Nor my loyalty; so to speak. Wakaba I knew would miss me, as would Saya and Yuma. Terazuma… who could say for certain? He acted as though he did not like me but in his heart (and mine also) there was a depth of respect and admiration there that neither would admit to and neither would openly acknowledge. A space would be left forever suspended between us; a bitter space perhaps, a space riddled by uncertainty and contest. And Mr. Konoe… At the thought of him, of those weathered and somehow reassuring features, my chest clinched painfully and a deep regret sought to engage cadence over my heart, with a deadly, uncontrollable dance. He was the man whom I had considered far more than my superior. To me, he was a father of sorts; a father whom I had never possessed in blood. And he had shown me the first kindness since the departing of my dear sister from this world. His probable disapproval, more than anyone, had sown grave doubts in my mind, as to whether or not I had done the right thing, in unleashing the sincerity of my soul. To lay bare the truth of myself before all those that I loved and cherished most. I could see Konoe's disapproving eyes in my mind, the lines of his face deepening as he stared at me from across the deep chasm of my speculations. What would he say, once the word of my betrayal had reached his ears? Would he hate me? And did I care enough to leave my contentment there in that silent moment, to hasten to his side and correct his misconceptions, though I knew them very well to be true?

My hurt was deep. I had betrayed them. Tatsumi, Hisoka, Konoe all. And for what? I had no idea how Muraki and I would be together. I didn't know him as an honest person, a sincere person. Not well enough to pass judgment as to whether or not he was a man with whom I could share a life, my heart, my body. All I understood was my predominant, wholly undeniable attraction to him; a passion so deep, so residual, that I could not even begin to understand where it stemmed from, let alone where it would end.

I wished desperately to resolve my never ceasing mind and all its' condemnations, so I turned my gaze towards the bay windows, calming myself with the strong and reassuring outline of Muraki's arresting figure. He must have felt my eyes upon him, because he turned to meet my stare, sipping peacefully from his glass. There was nothing harried in his expression; he had no reason to rush. He knew that he had me and that I was his of my own consent. No one was coming between us. There would be no interruptions.

A cold gust of wind sent a visible shiver throughout Muraki's body and as my eyes slid up his chest, I could see his nipples peaked through the thin wall of his yukata. I felt my groin tighten and start to grow heavy with an unfamiliar lust. The same feeling I'd had standing in Ukyou's room only earlier that same day. The feelings I had been unable to act upon, owing to our particular circumstances in that moment. But now… What was there to stand between us now? The look in Muraki's eyes was unmistakable and I slugged my wine back anxiously, legs remaining crossed, though I desperately wished to squeeze my thighs together and afford myself some protection.

"Have you had enough to eat?" Muraki asked softly, swilling the remaining dregs around the base of his glass. His visible eye was almost entirely slanted, his expression lazy… dreamy.

Beautiful.

"Yeah…I guess so." I replied, just as delicately, eyes lowered towards the mattress in what I imagined must have been a coy expression to Muraki's eye. "But I'm still…" I felt my features flush at my intended boldness. "…hungry."

Muraki's eye didn't leave me as I set my wine glass down and slid off of the bed, waddling awkwardly towards the balcony and extending my hand in an open invitation.

"Come inside out of the wind before you cause us both to catch our death." I urged.

Muraki looked out to me, across worlds, across nations and revealed to me a face that before I had never seen. A softness to the always-perpetual hard lines and an understanding that went deeper than words. He straightened up and moved closer to me and I felt that thread entangle through mine once more, our connection reaffirmed. We were now so close that our noses touched together. I felt a shiver race down my spine that I could not blame entirely on the cold from outside.

"Are you sure… that you are ready for this?"

I unconsciously drew a little closer, raising myself up on tiptoes so that I could rest my lips on the crest of Muraki's pale ear. I could hear his breathing sharpen slightly and was pleased that I still had that effect on him.

"I'm…" My words caught in my throat and I stalled for time by trailing my fingers down the collar of his yukata, lightly tickling his chest with the backs of my nails. He watched me, expressionless. "I'm… ready to… to try." I established, steeling myself to be courageous. I did want to do this. A million tiny impulses were racing through my body and for the first blessed time in my existence, I felt the true, invert desire to act upon them. Muraki's breath was hot against my skin, his eye shining with the proof of his passion. He allowed the tips of his fingers to drift upwards and stroke the back of my neck. I arched to the touch; his skin was cool but soft… I could see a thin spider like web of blue veins pulsing beneath the smooth white flesh of his neck. It was all I could do to suppress the urge to sink my mouth around those cryptic cobwebs that ran beneath the pale sheathe and let the succulent blood course its' way down my throat.

He smiled and brought his hand down to circle my wrist, raising my knuckles to his mouth in order to press a chivalrous kiss against the raised arch. But then that kiss caught my fingers, then the open palm of my hand and then the scars of my wrist. My heart was pounding in my chest.

"I'll try and go slow." Muraki murmured, with just a hint of that old devil may care grin I had come to at first hate and now love. My pulse now set to beating a harsh tattoo against the wall of my chest as Muraki stepped around me and turned gracefully to walk inside. I closed the balcony door behind him and drew the curtains shut to keep the warmth in. Muraki had moved over to the bed and was seated on the edge of it, staring impassively at the cabinet on the far side of the room, housing his small collection of pictures. I wondered if now my own picture could join those upon the stand? I looked into Muraki's impassive features, wondering if he was starting to question his steadfast accusation of his brother, whom he had seemed to share such a joyous childhood with? It was impossible to tell behind that expressionless mask he had slapped on.

I was still shivering and though Muraki showed no obvious signs of affliction from the cold, his visible flesh was raised in a slight pattern of goosebumps, so I sought to remedy this by pouring us another generous round each. I was hoping to get well and tipsy (and as a result, brave) before we went too far with this. Muraki accepted his own topped up glass back graciously, holding it with steady fingers, whilst never failing to detach his eyes from mine. I picked my own glass up and sat down on the bed beside my former enemy, legs crossed once more and eyes focused on him attentively.

He took another sip of his wine and I found myself fascinated by the tiny droplets that remained on his pale lips. His tongue flicked out to snatch them away and I suppressed another sigh. The desire I felt was so great. It was taking me over; drowning me. Had he always been so difficult for me to evade?

Muraki was watching me and I realized with another considerable overdose of embarrassment that I had been caught staring. Straightening up, I tilted back my glass and took a few well-measured gulps before I felt calm enough to look him in the eye again. It was not a comfortable silence that fell between us; it was agonizing and stretched to its' very limits.

After he seemed to have felt that this had gone on sufficiently long enough, Muraki took a token remedial sip from his wine (finally emptying it in the process) and then set it on the bedside table. He then reached over to extract mine, my hold being so compact I had come close to shattering the flute more than once.

When the drinks were safely out of reach, only then did Muraki move closer and gently place his hand on the side of my neck, stroking his long nails gently across my skin. I moaned, not at all softly, tilting my head back in order to increase the pleasurable sensation. I knew such a thing was wrong. Muraki and I were both men. We weren't married and he was responsible for the murder of one of my closest and dearest friends. Everything we were doing was a sin. But I couldn't seem to hold him accountable for that any longer. I couldn't force myself to repel his lovely touch. As soon as those cool lips descended upon my flesh, those lingering doubts were cast aside for good.

"Mr. Tsuzuki… listen to me." Muraki whispered, drawing his face closer to mine, to my pained struggling expression. My eyes were shut, my breathing labored, but I could still hear those words perfectly. "This whole time… since the moment I first called you up in that rainy night those endless weeks ago, I've been trying to bring you to this moment. To see you before me, unable to quit me, to bring you to this place where you would have but no one, not one person to depend on but me. And then, as in Kyoto, I meant to break you. To hurt you beyond all repair. To abandon you. Not because I want to see you dead, Asato Tsuzuki. But to free myself." His whole face trembled and he stared out from behind his glasses, as the child he had been over the gap of generations past. "Don't you understand…? Ever since I found your picture as a child I have clung to you. I have aimed for you, depended on you and crafted my entire life with you at my center axis. And I'm afraid to have nothing else but you. Afraid of this godless, never ceasing want that clasps its' fist around my heart." His hand cupped my face. "I wanted to destroy you… the you that exists inside of me."

My breath hitched in my throat as Muraki's long sure fingers lifted my glasses from my face and set them on the bedside table. Ensuing that my eyes remained focused upon him, he slid back and soothed away the starched material of his yukata, allowing it to fall in elegant waves from the curve of his broad shoulders, exposing the entire length of his pleasingly proportioned chest, right down to the aesthetic angles of his hips. The air in the room was slightly temperate from the heater but I still felt a violent thread of ice snap along my spine like the symmetrical stroke of a whip.

Muraki cast the yukata aside, almost too casually and, after placing his glasses on the bedside cabinet, angled his body over mine and started to steer me back first into the pillows at the head of the bed. I clutched the firm muscles of his shoulders, squeezing my nails in roughly to elicit his attention.

"Wait… wait, wait, wait!" I babbled nervously, entirely unable to articulate myself. Muraki sought my gaze with impatience burning in his visible eye.

"What is it? What's wrong?" His large hands clasped my waist from either side, lifting me up and forward slightly; all the better to negotiate the flow of our conversation. "I promised to begin this gently, did I not?" He stroked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. "You don't have to be afraid of my hurting you. Not anymore."

I dithered anxiously, not quite sure how I wanted to proceed but just feeling that something was missing. It was such a big moment for me; something that I wanted desperately to preserve for the rest of my eternity. I forced myself to think things through as logically as possible.

"It's not that… it's just…" I couldn't pretend that I wasn't nervous; I could actually feel the sweat beading on my forehead and I'd started to tremble all down my body. Muraki was stroking my forehead tenderly, as might a caring mother to soothe a child's tormented sleep. His thumb brushed lightly against my parched lips and I touched my tongue against it, perhaps teasingly. "It may sound silly but… I really want to do this right."

Muraki cocked his head to the side, flashing me an amused look. "There's really no right or wrong way to make love, Mr. Tsuzuki." He said, smiling provocatively. "Granted there are some variations in the procedure, it's all essentially the same at base level."

I smothered a gasp as his long sure hand slunk back and sensually caressed the skin beneath my lower leg. I raised my knee, trying to make things easier for him and to increase the pleasurable sensation for myself. His hand moved further up, fingers pinching ever so slightly against the crease where my buttocks met the skin of my thighs and my leg was suddenly perched on the crook of his shoulder, my back effectively forced into the pillows as he stroked and cupped and squeezed me.

"Muraki…" I gasped, gripping the muscles in his back as they slid in rigid waves beneath his skin. His erection pressed down against my thigh, solid, unyielding and growing firmer by the moment. I could see it there beneath the line of my sight, sprouting forth from the luxuriant curls of silver fleece at the very root. His pubic hair was as fine as the hair upon his head and appeared to be almost as soft. I was terrified by it; the entirety of his physical presence lain bare before me. I couldn't see how this big, long _thing _was going to fit inside of me. I had been told by one of my fellow dealer's aboard the Queen Camellia, that Muraki was a professional in such matters and that it wouldn't hurt a bit when he made love to me. But how could it not? How could it _possibly_ not

On the far wall opposite the bed, an old stone fireplace had been partitioned off. I could see it around the gleaming lines of Muraki's torso.

"Stop." I whispered, pulling my leg down and linking my arms around his shoulders instead. Muraki pulled me against him with a low groan of satisfaction, his groin undulating against mine. I stifled the moan that threatened to betray my weakness, meaning to press my thighs together but only succeeding in caging Muraki's waist between them. He gave a little push against me, almost a twitch and cupped my bottom, guiding the contrary actions of our pelvises. Little spines of pleasure fluttered up from my groin, blood rushing firmly down to extend the length of my penis, already playfully serenaded by the rhythmic movements of Muraki's hips.

"No… Stop." I repeated, though when these words had ever worked with Muraki I didn't know. My leg was curling up like a flower exposed to the heat of the sun and it wilted into shape around the inlay of his waist as he continued to move against me, fucking me without penetration, the material of my pajama bottoms between our bodies. "Muraki…" I cupped his face, brought my mouth to his and sweetened my tongue with the sweat of his lips. My hands roved across his back, sliding across dampening flesh, fingernails scratching up his spine and into his soft head of hair. "Can we light the fire…?"

His features were reddened but he still managed to flash me that ever-constant wise guy look I think he reserved especially for me.

"Next I suppose you'll be asking for candles," He murmured, his lips twisting up into a wry smile. I felt my cheeks go red.

"Hey, you were looking for them at my place only last night." I reminded him, giving his forehead a little tap with my own. "And if you have any of your own, I think they might make for nice atmosphere… definitely better than the lamps, don't you agree? And the fire would be nice too…"

Muraki seemed positively delighted as he untwined himself from around me and climbed to his feet. "Why, my dear Mr. Tsuzuki, how nice to see your contributing to this! And with such enthusiasm too…" He kissed me softly and lowered my head into the pillows before swinging the yukata back around his shoulders and sanctioning himself securely within its' bonds again. "I shall attend to those matters forthwith, Mr. Tsuzuki. You just…make yourself comfortable."

I smiled shyly, trying to be bold by raising my knees and separating my legs ever so slightly but I didn't feel that it was as blatantly provocative as I had hoped. Never the less, I saw Muraki briefly hesitate before turning about and exiting the room and this stirred my confidence deeply.

Now, how best to prepare myself in his absence? I sat up, a little uncomfortable on account of my burgeoning erection and gazed around the room, trying to gather my thoughts. The idea that I would soon be subjecting my body to the virile attentions of my once great enemy was at the same time both terrifying and liberating. It had been too long… an entire life spent in speculation over what to expect at this one moment; the moment I would surrender my chaste status forever. I was shaking all over; a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. I wondered what it would be like? If it would be painful… if it would feel as good as I had imagined it to be? Perhaps all the novels I had read and the movies I had seen had been exaggerating? Watari had not given me any misconceptions when I had spoken with him the previous night. He'd told me to take care of myself; to relax so that it wouldn't hurt and to make sure I was as prepared as possible before Muraki entered inside of me. But what if I couldn't? What if I found that after all these years I had no talent for it; that I wasn't any good? What if I was so bad, Muraki actually laughed at me, or got tired of trying to fake it? And I wasn't a spring chicken anymore… what if I came too soon? What if I came too late? What if I didn't come at all!?

I gave myself a mental slap on both cheeks, telling myself not to get carried away with the 'what ifs' of my impending situation. Whatever happened would happen and couldn't happen any other way. This was only something I could take care of once Muraki was back there with me. Until then…

My eyes landed on the CD player on the left hand side of the room. I made my way over to it, kneeling down to sift through his music collection. A lot of obscure artists, hardly mainstream and many of which I had never heard of before. I thought that some music might have been just the thing to help set the mood but I could barely make an educated selection from among his various CD's. The player had five separate compartments, so you could play five CD's in a row and not have to bother with getting up to change them over; which would come in useful during the night I imagined. I continued my search, setting aside five CD's that I particularly liked, music from the forty's, which I favored and various peaceful tunes, background instrumentals and love songs. I arranged them in the order I most liked and then placed them one by one into the CD player, pressing play when it had finished reading through the contents. The first song came on and I turned it down a little, so that it wouldn't prove too intrusive. A woman's voice, an American singer, the lyrics in English naturally. I didn't understand the words but I enjoyed the tone in which she sang and the soft instrumentals of the music itself. Soft piano cords preceded the woman's voice into sweetly sung verse and I let the melody wash over me, fill me up and soothe my anxiety. Something sensual was coursing about my body, smoothing down the rough edges of my fear and replacing it with a prospective sense of anticipation.

_Say where is my shame,_

_When I call your name?_

_So please don't set me free_

_I'm as heavy as can be_

I moved back towards the bed, arms crossed over my chest, stipulating over my next move. I wondered whether I should get undressed while I waited for Muraki. I was nervous and I kind of wanted to just get on with it and not dither about any more than I had to. Muraki would be laborious in undressing me; would take his time and tease me with every article removed and I felt this might have given me more opportunity to back out. With this in mind, I decided to undress before he came back, peeling my pajamas off and tucking them safely beneath the bed. I felt incredibly exposed, being naked in Muraki's bedroom but I tried to push such thoughts aside, reminding myself that I would have ended up in the nude eventually. Removing my clothing at my own leisure simply allowed me to dictate some minor manner of authority over the situation itself, which invested a level of control on my part. I lay down on the bed, legs curled up slightly in an S shape, cradling my cheek against my hand. Should I have waited for him as such? Maybe I should sit up? No… that was hardly relaxing now was it? And lying on my back, with my legs directed towards the door would have definitely revealed too much. But I felt uncomfortable, being naked and lying across the sheets with everything on display. This normally would not have bothered me (being naked that is) but that was because the situations in which I had found myself bereft of clothes were hardly considered sexual. (At least not purposefully). This was _entirely _sexual. And no matter what I did, it would remain so. But I was still bashful and so I pulled the sheet up over my body and slipped down into the covets of the bed, propping myself up on the pillows to patiently await Muraki's return. I took the bottle of wine by the neck and nervously sipped the remaining dregs whilst I mulled the time over.

The door eventually eased open and I sat up, breath catching in my throat as I braced myself for the inevitable. But it was not Muraki.

His servant Sakaki entered with a congenial air and even preserved the good graces to bow towards me before making his way to kneel before the fireplace. I yelped so loudly and in such a high pitch that it could have near shattered the bottle in my hand.

"Mr. Sakaki!" I squealed, wishing I knew what his surname was. "What are you doing in here?!"

"Ah, yes. Forgive my intrusion, Mr. Tsuzuki." Sakaki said, politely, keeping his back to me all the while. He must have thought it rude but I was grateful he was granting me some privacy, for what it was worth. "Young master Muraki requested that I light the fire in his bedroom, whilst he went about his business in the downstairs rooms. How have you been, sir?"

"Oh, you know… same old, same old." I muttered, trying to gather the blankets about my person as inconspicuously as possible. I was so embarrassed I thought I might never stop blushing and here Sakaki was acting as though it were hardly a matter of concern! Did this happen often, I wondered? Or was he simply a gentleman of such high standards that nothing on this known earth could faze him? "And… um… you? Have you been well?"

Sakaki was propping up wood into a neat little temple in the interior of the stone fireplace; paper and brittle twigs nestled in underneath the peak that would catch more quickly than the thicker wood. It was in my nature to want to get up and assist him but being naked would have immediately clued him into what was going on, not that he didn't have a fair idea already I'm sure.

"I'm doing very well, thankyou Mr. Tsuzuki." Sakaki stated, starting the fire with a long match that he blew out once certain the paper and twigs had caught. "The weather has been fair and the health of myself and my wife has been excellent. My eldest son is getting married in a month's time, so naturally I have much to be glad about!"

"Really? Wow, congrats! That's wonderful news!" I said sincerely. I have to admit; I'm a sucker for weddings. Kind of makes me wish I could have my own one day but of course, that's impossible.

Sakaki risked a small smile over his shoulder, just to express his gratitude over my genuineness. "Thankyou. It's safe to say that life has been very good to me. But I am also pleased to see the young master so content. He's terribly serious most of the time and concentrates far too hard on his work. I'm grateful."

"Uh… sure." I said, smiling nervously. Sakaki was coming towards the bed and I could now see that he had a little pot in his hands. "Um… whatcha got there?"

"The master asked that I spread these liberally about the bed until your satisfaction was met." The elder gentleman established and then with much flurry, proceeded to toss handfuls of dark red rosebuds all over the sheets and duvets, coating much of my hair in the process. That Muraki… what a bloody smart-ass! I tried flashing Sakaki a look that plainly said I was not impressed in the slightest but the servant merely chose to ignore it and completed his task in much the same way that he had started it. By which stage, the bed was almost blanketed by the rose petals. "Now… I do hope that meets with your approval, Mr. Tsuzuki?"  
I groaned and collapsed back against the pillows, slugging back what remained of the wine as I did. "Yeah… that's great. Thanks."

"I shall excuse myself then." Sakaki established with a deep, almost ninety-degree bow. "Don't hesitate to ask if you feel you should need anything else tonight. Please enjoy your stay." I assumed this was irony but I didn't have time to question it because he had already gone ass-first out the door. Not two seconds later, Muraki had taken his place, closing the door and locking it behind him. He wore a teasing expression and carried a square wooden box in one hand and a fresh bottle of wine in the other. He looked me over with an amused smile as I deposited the empty bottle onto the cabinet and gesticulated urgently for the replacement.

"Why… I had been hoping that I might undress you myself, Mr. Tsuzuki." The doctor mused, disappointed. He obediently passed the bottle to me, a red wine this time and then made his way around the room, sliding small white candles out of the box in his hand and setting them on various surfaces, where they might best add to the atmosphere. Quite a number went on the bedside tables, some on the windowsills, others on every cabinet, shelf, table and the like. Muraki paused by the CD player to take in the music and his eyes lingered on me approvingly. "Why, Mr. Tsuzuki… you have invested yourself in this more deeply than I ever thought you would have."

I grinned at him as I refilled our individual glasses. "I told you; this is important to me. Is this music all right?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

Muraki nodded as he went anti-clockwise about the room now; lighting the candles he had just set down. The wicks glowed amber in the near light and intensified to an esoteric radiance as he moved around the bed to switch off the lanterns.

"This is fine." He confirmed, sitting on the side of the bed and reaching out to cup the side of my face. His fingers pressed my cheek in, drawing deep circles, caressing pressure points I'd never known I'd possessed. "I've never made love to music before myself, so this will be a new experience for us both."

My throat was dry as I swallowed but I made every effort to be brave as I nodded and slowly drew the bed sheet off of myself, dragging it down until it rested atop my ankles, hiding only my feet from sight. I looked into Muraki's eyes in the candlelight and was euphoric to witness his rapt attentions; the way his firm gaze took me in and roved over every little line and curve and crease. He surveyed my pelvic region with such professionalism I almost doubted that he was even aroused by it. But I could see the hunger in his eyes. And his desire was flooding over and through me, making me a part of it. I undulated my hips slightly, lifting my bottom up so that he could inspect every obscure angle of me and he leaned back a little, appraising the line down from my perineum as I presented it to him. His breathing came in not quite rhythmic pants as he suddenly grasped my inside thighs and pulled them apart, rubbing the smooth palms of his hands over the flesh ferociously, driving catastrophic pleasure into my brain, rendering me incomprehensible.

"I want to fuck you senseless…" Came Muraki's lustful hiss into my ear and I moaned loudly, having never been spoken to in such a way, having never known proof of anyone wishing to perform such an act on me. "But…" And I could hear the strain in his voice and sense how hard this was on him. "I love you… so I… I will take everything well in hand. You just relax."

I felt his lips against my eyelid and my long lashes fluttered under the innocent contact. And take care of everything he did. Shrugging only the top half of his yukata free, Muraki worked his lips over my body, from my ankles up. He kissed me all over, avoiding my erection in favor of tracing less formally know eroticized lines and musculature patterns. Here was something I had only ever imagined could occur in a romance novel and it was happening to me! I moaned as he patterned kisses across my face. I was so needy… so desperate to fill that emptiness inside of me, the only way that it could be filled. The desire to redirect that previously entertained antagonism, with what I had so long since denied and despised.

Love.

I wanted that. …No, I _needed _that now, to validate my place in that moment with Muraki, to understand that my clause in this world was not lost and pointless after all. There was a reason to carry my existence forward, to read my silly little novels, to eat my ungodly amount of sweet food, to battle it out with my hair and grow tulips in the garden.

All it would take… for this life to truly be mine, was to break that residual membrane between denial and my one true self.

I sat up a little straighter, hair falling about my face, trying to contort my features into something I could only hope passed for sultry. I gingerly lifted one of Muraki's fingers and brought it to my lips. Muraki shut his eyes and arched his body with a moan of pure ecstasy as I bit deep, his momentary expression of pain extinguished in favor of an erotic hiss as I sucked on the small wound I had made. His blood was warm and sweet; it tasted like the salt of life.

"Take me." I commanded, closing my eyes and putting my arms around the witches' neck. I whimpered down deep in the back of my throat as we collapsed backwards onto the bed, the yukata still somehow remaining sanctioned about Muraki's waist, slipping astray only slightly as a result of our heated movements. Muraki ran his bleeding finger down my cheek, leaving a smear of blood against my pale flesh. I caught that finger between my teeth again and brought both hands up to hold it in place, liberally chewing on it and drawing more of the sweet liquid into my throat. Heat pulsed from between my legs as my body became increasingly aroused and I knew Muraki must have been feeling very much the same as I. To exploit the situation further, I drew on another of his weaknesses and removed the finger, instead sinking my teeth down into my own already swollen lips. I gnashed down hard a second time, actually squirting blood outward from the force of my bite. The red fluid splattered against Muraki's chin and he gasped euphorically, swiping his hand quickly across it and then shoving each finger greedily into his mouth, one at a time, lapping the blood from each digit. I watched him; fascinated by his lust and hunger, running my tongue down the corner of my mouth, in order to gather up the thick velvet moisture. I pulled myself close to my soon to be lover, feeling the pulse between my legs increase violently as I stretched my thighs open as wide as I possible could, framing Muraki's kneeling figure. He stayed remarkably still in light of my brazen proximity and allowed me to spread the blood across his white lips, using my tongue as the transference tool. When I was finished, I bit my lip again, splattering blood directly into his mouth this time. Muraki groaned, relinquishing control over his lust and drove his mouth against my own mutilated lips, holding my head in place so that every last drop of vitae would be his for the taking. He had told me once, on the deck of the Queen Camellia, that my essence was of the highest superior quality. The smallest amount was enough to stoke his inner fire. These were his words. And I was using this to my advantage. Granting myself some manner of authority in this situation, where I possessed so little experience.

His tongue maneuvered about my mouth with such skill. I made a sound in my throat, like a deep rumbling growl and hooked my nails into Muraki' back, piercing his flesh with crescent shaped marks. I felt small trails of blood intermingle with the sweat upon his back, blooming… blooming like a flower, unfolding from its' coalescent bud.

As I focused my attentions on this intense exchange between our mouths, Muraki used the distraction to sneak his hands down to my waist, where my thighs clasped a hold of his hips fiercely. He ran his fingers up my bare legs, up onto my upper thighs and started to stroke in earnest, using his thumbs to increase the pressure against my flesh. I moaned through our blood soaked kiss and altered my position so that Muraki was able to clasp his hands around the smooth area of my thighs. He smiled and raised his lips to touch to mine again, intent on continuing the kiss. We kept our eyes open as our burning lips made contact and he flashed me a most sultry look as he rubbed his lower lip between mine, teasing the upper column with his tongue. I groaned at the intolerable pleasure, cupping his face between my hands as I closed my lips about his and drew on them, forcing the kiss to linger on into shadows of lust and glimmer that before I had never allowed it to breach. Body shaking, beads of sweat puncturing free from the pores of my flesh, breaking the kiss so that we only faced one another, panting and overcome by what we had already shared. I dropped my finger to the indent of Muraki's neck and gingerly stroked this small depression, darting my tongue forward to clean the drying traces of blood from his lips. His visible eye swayed by this obscure movement, Muraki's hands traveled up my thighs, down and under, cupping the globes of muscle at the base of my spine, gripping tightly and pushing our pelvises together with violent vigor. So violent in fact, that his long, sharp nails cut into my buttocks at least three centimeters deep. I gasped, felt my penis twitch. Felt something deep inside of myself undulate. A heartbeat in the interior of my most sacred place.

Muraki's lips tweaked slightly, as though he too had felt this beat. He settled me down onto the blankets, one hand sinking to rest behind my tousled head, supporting his weight as we kissed. He gave pause, withholding the muchly-anticipated union to allow time in which to look upon one another and consider just what it was we were each thinking about. Muraki's expression was as mischievous as always but beneath the lines of his cerebral composure, therein lay the base core of some other, more docile emotion. I thought he looked stunning, stretched out above me, golden in the candlelight, hair sweeping down about his handsome, unblemished features, his yukata unpeeled from his body, revealing nips of his own subsequent nudity. I was struck by the insatiable urge to allow myself to be devastated by the beautiful body above me and being in no mood to deny my material instincts, pulled upwards and kissed him firmly, trying to tell him without words the desire I had for him. Muraki responded in kind, wrapping his long fingers around my elbows and digging ten perfectly manicured nails into the rough skin. He tilted his body weight slightly, so that he tipped sideways onto the bed, pulling me close the moment he had landed against the sheets. He wrapped his hands around my back and neck as he rolled to the side on the bed. I sensually slid my leg between Muraki's thighs with the austere delicateness of thread through the eye of a needle. I moved my fingers across his bare chest, plucking up my courage and rubbing my thumbs over his nipples, feeling my face grow hot as the little nubs went hard beneath my attentions. And he purred, sinking one hand onto the back of my neck and guiding my face forward. I momentarily resisted, unsure of what he expected. He could tell from my eyes that I was confused.

"Use your mouth." He demanded in a husky voice. I contemplated what he was asking of me and blushed without apology, my temperature rising several palpable degrees as he used one white fingernail to trace his own nipple. I was lured forward by this enticement, resting my fingers on the curve of his abdomen, almost panting with hesitant anticipation. "Here… your tongue and your lips."

I placed one hand sideways on the center of his chest, unable to move my eyes away from his pert pale pink nipples. Muraki took his own fingers away and rested them on the back of my neck, twining the smaller strands of hair in an encouraging sort of way. I think he could see the apprehension in my eyes.

"There's no reason to be afraid," He said, running the back of his hand over my flushing cheek. His smiling features were suddenly right up against my nose. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

It definitely sounded appealing but I didn't want to give Muraki another reason to have one up on me. Letting him go first only highlighted my inexperience. I shook my head, raking my hand back through my sweaty head of hair and kissed Muraki's neck.

"No… it's okay. Let me try…" I inched closer, angling my hip to bring my thigh up over Muraki's waist. The sash of his yukata cord was the only thing keeping his penis from springing free and I could feel it straining against my stomach as our bodies fell together. "Tell me if I'm doing anything wrong… okay?"

Muraki smiled, rubbing his thumb up over my cheek and arching his back so that his chest curved in towards my face. Fighting through a renewed bought of nervous shudders; I leaned forward and slowly closed my lips over his right nipple, trying to move my mouth in a fashion reminiscent to a deep French kiss. I licked and sucked the little bud, barely able to smother the smile that gripped my features as Muraki moaned with deep satisfaction, his fingers knotting into my hair.

"Yes… that's it… that's the melody." He whispered and I felt his free hand against the curve of my buttocks, scratching and teasing and tickling. I nibbled at the small bud, leaving a glittering trail of saliva across his chest as I licked my way over to the left nipple, rolling my pelvis against his in a corporeal dance.

"Put a finger in." I gasped, wanting a penetration, desiring an intrusion, aching to be filled up as soon as possible. "Please Muraki…" He gazed into my sweat soaked features without a smile and I felt my eyes well slightly, afraid and yet desperately wanting. "_… please…"_

He watched me for a while longer, as though testing my endurance, waiting to see whether or not I would rescind on my plea. But I sought him with genuine yearning, taking his hand in mine and guiding it to my mouth, sucking on the long, strong digit, coating with my saliva. My breath was hot around it and I panted with exhausting passion as I popped my mouth free and dropped his hand around my waist, draping it over my buttocks.

"_Please…"_ I repeated.

His face came close to mine, his visible eye as masked as the one cloaked by his hair.

"Be brave." He whispered, the pad of his finger pressing against my pucker as though it were a button. "Prepare yourself… be strong and endure it."

I groaned as the slicked digit pushed up deep inside of me, sending an odd ache through my rectum but an equally exciting twinge through my lower extremeties. I cupped his hand between my own, head tilted back against the sheets as his finger went in as far as it could go, probing against that place inside of me that speared devastating pleasure up through my body. In and out, it went. Finger curved and diving and weaving in the delicate membrane of my deepest sanctity.

"Uh… ow…uh…" I whimpered, eyes scrunching shut as I focused with all my will on these wonderful, painful sensations.

"Very good… you're doing so well." Muraki cooed, moving his heated, stained lips to the crook of my shoulder. He nipped the skin; kissed and sucked all the way down to the circular curve of my pectoral. "We should… move up the bed. Make the most of those pillows. They were specially shipped from Germany, you know."

"Oh… how charming!" I groaned, pulling free from Muraki's finger in favor of scurrying up to the head of the bed and collapsing passionately against the pillows as though I couldn't get enough of them. I wondered if Muraki felt jealous, though I wagered it was beyond even him to feel envious of bed cushioning. He slunk up the bed towards me; the lower half of his yukata amazingly clinging to his wide waist against all laws of physics and raised the white sheets so that we could both slip inside. As soon as we had settled down, Muraki wrapped his arm around my shoulders and waist, pulling me close. I didn't resist and allowed the former serial killer to intertwine our fingers, as I curled up close to the protective warmth of his chest.

"Are you frightened?" He asked with such sincerity in his voice I could tell immediately that he meant it. It wasn't a question I would have expected from Muraki; I hadn't expected him to care. I smiled cheerfully as I pulled myself up onto his chest, rubbing my thigh surreptitiously over the yukata that remained suspended about his waist.

"Whilst I'm sure you're bound to make some scary noises in bed, Muraki, I wouldn't exactly say it's the scariest situation I've ever been in."

"Do you really mean that?" He asked knowingly, his fingers twining between mine and caressing them from the tips to my knuckles.

My smile faltered and I lowered my face towards his chest, laughing at my own folly. "No… This is really scary for me. But… I'm enjoying myself too. This all feels really nice."

"Yes, I gathered as much." He mused, reaching down to give me a cheeky little tickle along the side of my penis. I gasped, my pelvis twitching and curling up along his lower torso as he traced his fingertip around the head of my erection, bringing his hand up so that I could see him rub my pre-cum between his thumb and index finger. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, how he made this shameful part of me seem so sexy. I nearly came when, after inspecting the clear fluid between his fingers, he raised them to lip height, appraised them with the experienced eye of a connoisseur and then touched the tip of his tongue to them. My breaths grew increasingly deeper as he ran his tongue up first his thumb, then his finger, purring softly as though he were a cat licking milk up from a saucer.

"Delicious… oh, my love… you taste positively divine."

Gasping, jealous of his attentions towards the mere extension of myself, I wound my arms around his broad, weathered chest and nuzzled the carotid artery in his neck, grazing my teeth across it teasingly. Muraki grinned and snatched a handful of my hair, jerking me up roughly to meet his gaze. He leered down at me, running his tongue across his lips and smacking them evocatively.

"I will be gentle with you, Mr. Tsuzuki. But make no mistake; I plan to quench myself fully tonight. I will…" His lips were an inch from my own, brushing against them with every word. "… come forth inside of you, with everything I have."

I smiled back, though I was still very nervous. "I should hope so."

We fell into the kiss, tongues colliding in the exciting wild game of dominance. Snakes warring within the confines of darkness, the bitter metallic scent of blood egging them on to more aggressive levels. I moved my hands down low across Muraki's abdomen, fingering the scattering of scar tissue spread athwart his flesh. Our lips parted for a moment and I delighted in the moisture that was left behind. Muraki combed his fingers through the under layer of my hair, brushing our lips together teasingly. He bit down not at all gently on my already abused maw, opening up the clotting wound and enthusiastically sucking up the blood that flowed free. It stung and I found myself more aroused by the provocative sounds he was making. He mewled like a cat in heat, fingernails digging into my back and waist as though they were scratching posts. I moaned and tugged my mouth free so that I could whisper in my boyfriends' ear, the torn flesh of my lip dripping blood down the side of his pale face with every pronounced letter.

"You've never been afraid to break me, Muraki…" I said breathlessly, running my fingers up his jaw line and back to release the silver strands of hair, tucked behind his ear. "I… I want to shatter beneath your hands. And as you have always been, don't be afraid to touch me with all your passion, your violence, your aggression. _That _is what I want to feel from you always."

I sat up a little and shook my damp hair out, trying to keep my bangs from obscuring my line of sight as I smiled down at Muraki. The witch gazed up at me appreciatively.

"And so you shall." He commented, scratching my face gently, tellingly with his nails, before pushing his lips back upon mine and simultaneously rolling me over, angling his body over my much smaller frame. He pressed down upon my hips, guiding me back into the German style pillows. In that perfectly blissful moment, I could think of nothing that could possibly be softer. Muraki moved like a sinuous breeze across my body, caressing the rise and fall of my pectorals, panting as he returned the favor upon my nipples that I had invested upon his. Then, for a few breathless moments he merely gazed upon my torso, long white nails tracing the lines between each muscle. I was equally enamored with his body; its smooth perfection, the whipcord muscles shifting beneath alabaster flesh and the delicious reminders of his age and mortality, such as the small fold of skin on each hip, the beginnings of love handles. The slight spreading of his thighs and the minor distention of his stomach. These inconsequential flaws increased his beauty, rather than dimmed it. Despite all that he had done, all his power, prestige and presence, Muraki was still human. And that was a good thing. That made him more beautiful than if his body had been model-esque; toned and trim. His skin was soft but underlined from beneath by sinewy muscles, moving like ripples in a millpond. My hands felt too rough for it but Muraki had expressed his desire to reap my body asunder and after so long I had no intentions to restrain my passion. There would be no desire too uninhibited to require shackling.

Muraki's long, pianist fingers found placement between my shoulder blades and he pulled me to him, his smeared lips landing firmly on the center of my arched chest. I gasped in surprise but reacted as I felt was accordingly, clasping one hand behind Muraki's slender neck and pushing his face firmly against me. He reached around with his free hand and cupped my narrow hip, holding my body steady as slight tremors of desire and thinly veiled anticipation, raced impatiently around the track of my body.

Muraki parted his lips timorously and lightly gathered a small pinch of my tanned flesh between them. I felt his tongue dart out, lapping a straight line across the outline of one of my ribs. His lips parted with a soft wet sound and it seemed that he was struck by the sudden and urgent temptation to bear his hand upwards and frame my already pert nipple, the same pale pink in color as Muraki's lips had been after my blood had stained them. Muraki smiled and slowly licked the tiny bud with his tongue; flicking his teeth and lips over it, staring coyly into my eyes as though daring me to object. I mewled at the sweet sensation, watching in fascination as my nipple hardened further as a result of his playful administrations. The noises stealing out of me sounded purely animal in nature and I dug my fingernails sharply into Muraki's spine and scalp, my own lips tracing his pale hairline. He trailed a line of kisses upward towards my throat and used his hand to pull my head forwards, running his tongue up from the clavicle to the shadowed area where my neck meet my chin. A shiver raced through my body, my trembling hands grasping Muraki's shoulder blades urgently, as though I were trying to anchor myself down. My head was spinning, my senses rattled, slightly numb from the amount of alcohol I had consumed. I dug my nails in, feeling that I might drift away from reality at any moment. Muraki's smile swam before my eyes as he bowed forward to kiss me softly on the lips, earning for his efforts an affectionate embrace. I dipped my hands down and trailed them along Muraki's stomach until they fell upon the flimsy cord, commendably binding the remains of the kimono around his lovely waist. I had trouble untying the knot; my fingers were shaking so badly but under Muraki's patient tutelage I made short work of the binding and eagerly extracted the doctor from his pale wrappings. He plucked it out of my hands as soon as it was free and leaned down to sweep it under the bed. My lurking inhibitions were shattered as I visually absorbed the impressive swelling of his remarkable manhood, jutting out from the rivulets of silver curls between his legs. What blood remained free from my erection flushed to my cheeks in rosy patterns as I briefly entertained a detailed fantasy of how his cock would feel inside of me. How it would stretch and fill and satisfy. The lurid images were enough to make my own erection feverish and it twitched as though suffering the throes of death, the tip leaking and it stiffened until the need for release became almost unbearable. The sight of it embarrassed me and I made to pull the sheets back over my body, meaning to cover myself but Muraki stopped me.

"Don't…" He whispered, inclining forward and pushing my shoulders down until I was lying flat against the pillows. I watched him carefully, voice rising from the womb of my lungs and bursting forth in a heated contraction as Muraki moved back towards my waist and used his hands to spread my legs wide, until my knees touched the blankets outside the line of my hips. "I want to see you… don't veil your body in shadows where my eyes must discern the darkness from reality."

Our eyes locked as one so powerfully one might have expected to hear the click of a turning key. Muraki brushed aside the crisp white sheets; prying open my fingers, which had clenched tightly around the material, in order to sweep the protective halo of modesty away. There I lay, entirely exposed, my lavender eyes regarding the demon above me with the lure of fey enticement. I was so innocent, yet my body posture was entirely alluring. Muraki withheld his hormones for the moment, in order to slightly roll me on my side and examine the body in which my immortal soul resided. He looked me over, examined my flesh from every angle, rolling me then onto my stomach and running his hand down from my neck, down the hallow of my back and onto my bottom. I felt his lips at my ear, as my cheek was pressed down firmly into the pillow supporting my face.

"If I were to describe your body in a case study Mr. Tsuzuki, such words come to mind," He whispered, chin caressing my cheek and temple. "He is pure and untainted by body markings, the result of many years spent mostly in the shade and out of the sun." His tongue glazed around the shell of my ear. "Cruel looking scars criss-cross his right wrist, as well as small number that scatter across his arms, legs and chest. Marks of unknown origin… marks that contain a tragedy this young man is unwilling or perhaps unable to share. They are marks aching for some kind of healing. Healing… that a physicians touch alone can provide."

I gasped as he lowered his pelvis down against my buttocks, his stiff penis pressing down into the crevice but going no further. "Muraki…" I hissed a warning out from between my teeth, dissuading him from progressing any further but he was only teasing me.

"I watch the slender line of his neck rise and fall in time with his breathing, his lips part and draw at the air, though the pillows now hide half of his face. His hips…" His hand traced my waist as he spoke. "… they are small and perfectly arched, like a porcelain work of art; carved for voyeuristic beauty alone, to surmise that one might gaze upon but never touch. The thought of breaking such a beautiful creation is enough to shatter the mind of he who envisions it, yet the desire to touch it was just as bad. If not worse."

"Muraki…" I moaned his name softly as he rolled me over so that I faced the ceiling, my hands palm up and fingers loosed from a previously engaged fist. His eyes lingered on the area bellow my stomach and he smiled indulgently at the thoughts he had no doubt just entertained.

But his attentions focused elsewhere, his hand running down over my arms, moving the fingers to trace the muscle pattern down my chest, along my hips; my apparently beautiful, fragile hips. I couldn't take my eyes off of him and he met my gaze with confidence.

"You're beautiful." He established, pushing his lips against my forehead. I fluttered my eyes shut and breathed sharply into his neck as I placed one hand on Muraki's chest, stroking gently with my fingernails. His own hands focused their attention elsewhere, working down my back, wandering idly through the cryptic lines and sinews until they were able to clasp my round firm buttocks. We both sighed in unison as Muraki pushed our bodies closer together, I, openly enjoying the feeling of his heated palms against my flesh. Surprising even myself, I sought to return the favor and brought my fingers down to gingerly wrap about the length of Muraki's rigid penis. He gasped, so I wagered this came as something of a pleasant surprise to him and dipped his hips ever so slightly, enabling me to take more into my palm and I fondled him as best I could. My body temperature soared higher than ever as Muraki sought to reengage his passion by stroking the curvature of my hips and darting his tongue about the shell of my ear. I was spurred on myself and I wanted to look at him; subject him to the same perverse inspection he had put me through. And so, while it was in me to be so bold, I took momentary control and twisted his body sideways, using my thighs to commandeer his motion. I brought him beneath me, pinned his wrists on either side of his lovely, delicate features and took my time subjecting him to a fierce and hungry appraisal.

As his eyes had previously wandered my body, so now did I plunder the usually veiled lines and crevices of his desirable form. The doctor had lovely wide hips, framed by long, strong legs and from what I remembered a well-defined posterior. His upper torso, soured slightly from a number of months spent prone in hospital, was nonetheless divine to my hormone-addled mind, sculptured like a fine Greek statue in alabaster plaster. His skin was so pale it seemed to almost meld into the sheets beneath his body and he cocked his head side long, the ever-present smile surveying me with the abject definition of 'bedroom' itself. He flicked the tip of one long fingernail over his lip, raised his hips beneath mine and displayed his thick penis down to the very roots from which it stemmed. He was not so big that I thought it might be impossible for us to make love but large and long enough to make me wince in sympathy for how my bottom might feel the following day. He wasn't a great deal larger in that department than I was, which pleased me for some reason. In a lot of ways, not just physically, Muraki and I were incredibly similar.

"Do you like what you see, Mr. Tsuzuki?" His voice was a lazy drawl. He knew that he had me captivated.

"Shut up." I whispered, lowering myself down beside him again and linking his fingers through mine. He leaned in close to deliver a series of soft kisses to my lips. "Use your mouth for something better than that."

"Mmm…" Muraki murmured; pulling me to him with the hand he had since slouched about my waist. We both gasped as our pelvises struck, our mutual hardness fractioning pure electric currents through my body; the living warmth of each rising and falling in time with the sinuous movements of our hips. I gripped Muraki's face with both hands and kissed him ravenously, allowing him to guide me onto my back with his thighs. His lips trailed randomly over my face and shoulders, when a sharp pain at the base of my neck made me sit up and take notice. I looked down into the doctors' eyes and a mischievous smile was returned, creeping across his cat like features as he licked his lips with a flagrant hunger. I gave a jerking nod of my head, granting him rights unto me and tilted my head back, drawing the muscle and ligaments taut as he lowered his mouth to the small wound he had made and drew on it; my immortal blood trickling into his mouth like water from a leaking tap. I wondered whether it was wise for him to be taking more blood from me, considering I was still somewhat anemic from his brute actions earlier that same day. Yet, as the pale man continued to feed, I found it less feasible to conjure up excuses to stop him.

A glorious feeling was sweeping through my body, as though I were being stroked from the inside out. My skin prickled and ignited with heat, coming to life as my essence was drawn out from the tiny puncture marks in the joint where my shoulder meet my neck. I groaned, encapsulated by ecstasy, tilting my head back even further so that the wound wept grievously. Muraki's tongue lapped the blood greedily into his mouth, sharp nails gripping my well-defined arms as he rocked his hips against mine maliciously. My swollen erection throbbed painfully as it was massaged by Muraki's greedy length and as I dropped my hand down to temporarily soothe it, accidentally caught them both in my palm. Muraki gasped, his teeth nipping my skin together at this unexpected action.

"Oh Mr. Tsuzuki…" He tutted, eye shut yet managing to cluck his tongue at me. "How naughty of you. To behave in such a virile manner… I didn't think you had it in you."

I raised my head a little and set my eyes on Muraki's face, smiling breathlessly at him. The invitation could be read before I had even sent it.

"Get me ready…" I whispered desperately. The ache in my groin had increased to the degree that it was wholly unbearable. I stroked our erections together, meaning to soothe my own in the act but only adding to the intense pleasure already rocketing through our bodies. Muraki's chest was heaving up and down, sweat making the albino white flesh appear shiny and slick. I cooed deep in my throat as I pressed a pale hand to his hard, rosy nipple, giving it a little pluck and a strum. The smile had finally slid free from his features. "I… don't think I can hold out much longer. If we don't start soon, I'll…" I couldn't finish my sentence. Just leaned up and slicked my lips up his chin, caging his lip in my second weak lunge. "Get me ready." I repeated, my voice so husky I barely recognized it.

Muraki was certainly not one to disappoint.

He gave me a brief, passing grin as he slid himself over towards 'his' side of the bed, reaching into the third drawer and rooting about for a moment, I simply biding my time by sensually scratching his back and running my hands up through his hair, making a thorough mess of it. Mine no doubt looked like shit, so why not his also?

That's when the worst sensation stole over me.

"Oh no…" I whispered, feeling my stomach cramp violently. I gave Muraki a little push to express my urgency. "Let me up. I have to go to the toilet."

I expected him to protest but he rolled off of me right away and helped me sit up and swing my legs out of bed, offering me a helpful push in the toot to shoo me towards the en suite.

"That's probably a good idea. Get yourself cleaned up and comfortable before we start. Oh and if you wouldn't mind, would you change the song when you come back? I can't stand this CD. As a matter of fact, I find it quite distracting."

I flashed a cheeky look over his shoulder. "You could have fooled me. Won't be a moment."

I raced through my business in the bathroom as fast as could be reasonably expected, almost emptying out every tract in my body to ensure this wouldn't occur again during the night. When I was done I wiped myself clean, flushed and washed my hands, trying to ignore my reflection in the mirror as I did. Not only was I sure that I looked a pathetic sight but mirrors had become even more disturbing as of late. This was the one moment I didn't wish to be whisked away by my sister into a gruesome otherworld, where I'd have to bind up all my sexual tension and direct my meager brain towards solving mind-bending conundrums. The thought was more than enough to make me want to scream. No sir. I wasn't even going to glance in it as I freshened up. But I did glance in the medicine cabinet, to see if there was anything in there that might have assisted in the night's proceedings. I found a tube of plain lubricant (half used which made me a little jealous I will admit) and a packet of condoms, though I wasn't sure Guardians of Death necessarily needed to use these. And I can imagine it would have pissed Muraki off considerably had I presented them to him. ("Here we go! More fun for me, less for you!") But I took one anyway, simply for the novelty of getting to use a condom for the first time in my life. They were ribbed and I guess this meant there were little studs along the outside. The box loudly flouted the words 'Ribbed for her pleasure!' Knowing Muraki like I did, he probably turned them inside out.

I exited the bathroom with my aids in hand, pausing by the player to change the CD over. Muraki was waiting patiently for my return, another tube of lubricant clutched in his hand. This one hadn't been opened at all. He had been taking the seal off just as I'd entered the room.

He noticed the similar tube in my hands and at least had the good grace to appear ashamed of himself. "That wasn't for you to see." He established, motioning with his hand to indicate that I might return it to the bathroom. "And I highly doubt that cream is going to come in useful tonight. Tomorrow morning perhaps but I was hoping to avoid that if possible."

It was then, with some embarrassment that I actually read the label stuck to the side of the tube I had picked up. It wasn't lubricant at all. It was hemorrhoid cream.

"Oh my god." I went bright red and burst into a fit of giggles. "I'm so sorry! I didn't even look!" The giggles exploded into laughter, my anxiety finally expressing itself in a more beneficial way. I was almost bent over double from laughing so hard. "I would never have even imagined you, you of all people having hemorrhoid's!"

"Well, I try not to think about it too much myself, Mr. Tsuzuki." Muraki said, with a small, appreciative smile. He didn't seem at all embarrassed by my reaction but rather pleased that I seemed to have relaxed somewhat. "And I assure you, I have no need of it tonight. It was a lovely gesture but you might do well to pop it back where you found it, eh? And what else have you foraged out of my cabinet there? Been sifting through my condoms have you?"

I nodded as I returned the cream to the cabinet in the bathroom and then made my way back over to the bed, handing him the small foil packet, which he took and turned over and over, inspecting it from all angles.

"It's… look, I don't think Guardian's of Death can catch STI's… and it's going to be my first time, so I kind of would like it to be perfect but…" I shrugged uselessly. "If we used a condom, I'm guessing it would be less exciting for you, right?"

He made a non-committal sort of grunt, still turning the square packet over and over in his hands.

"I would feel… considerably less." He admitted, still not looking at me as I reached over and chugged a bit more of my wine back. The warmth spread down through my already heated body. "It would be a sort of membrane stretched between us and is normally used as an effective sex-aid to guard against pregnancy. Which I doubt is going to happen between you and I." He set the condom packet down on the bedside table and encouraged me to meet his gaze. "If you were a mortal man and had been having sex with a number of different partners without precaution in those instances, then it might prove prudent to use such protection. However, the case is such that you have had no previous partners and there's no chance you could catch an STI off of me, owing to the fact that you are immortal and are incapable of doing so and that I, in addition, have no such venereal diseases. I have had a number of male partners before but I have normally used protection and I am regularly tested for the presences of such infections. However, if you would feel more comfortable having me use a condom, I do not mind so much. The sensations would be much the same for you either way, I imagine."

I shook my head, already decided by his words and his kind, unfamiliar generosity. "No." I said, taking one more sip from my glass before setting it down and sliding back into bed against Muraki's warm, accommodating body. He immediately wrapped me up and warmth and sweltering heat immediately returned to me. "This is important, this moment. It's only fair for you to feel everything that I do. The heat inside of me-" I twined my fingers through his. " – the… t-tightness of my body… all around you…" I was going red; I was so embarrassed to be speaking in such a blatant tone. "… g-g-" I swallowed through a parched throat, my voice starting to tremble as badly as my body did. "- g-get me r-r-ready… puh-please… Mu-Muraki."

"Shh, shh, shh, shhh…" He soothed, pressing the pad of his finger against my mouth and then nursing my chin between it and his thumb. He gazed into my eyes with such tenderness. "Don't be afraid. I promise, I'll do everything I can to make this easy and enjoyable for you. Trust me…" He lifted the lubricant from the bedside table and popped the cap off, squeezing the thick, clear liquid onto his right hand fingers, coating three of them generously. They looked so big and thick all stacked together. Like a wall! God, how was he going to get those all in at once? "It will hurt at first, I can't help that. But it will become pleasurable once you have gotten use to it. Just… try to open yourself up to it as much as possible, won't you?"

I caught sight of Muraki's long nails and flinched. "You'll… you'll tear me open with those! They're too long! Muraki!"

He clucked his tongue, impatient with me. "I have had my fingers inside of you more than once already, Mr. Tsuzuki and you were not so concerned with my fingernails then, I assure you. I promised you I would be gentle, didn't I? They are not so long you will be ripped to pieces. Now please! I insist you try and relax. Given time I am sure-" He finished coating his fingers generously and put the tube back atop the cabinet and looked down upon me with one very visible hungry eye. " – that I will make you scream."

Leaving me with that, Muraki moved me onto my back again and stole atop my body, sheathing his hand down beneath the globes of my ass. I shut my eyes, clenching the blankets tightly and tried to focus my attentions elsewhere but on the pain and implications of what I knew were coming. I listened to the music let it steal inside of me, the tender words, the sweet motives.

"I have a smile, stretched from ear to ear

To see you walking down the road

We meet at the lights I stare for a while

The world around us disappears.

It's just you and me, on my island of hope

A breath between us could be miles.

Let me surround you,

My sea to your shore

Let me be the calm you seek."

I barely felt it, his index finger sliding up into me, sheathing deep back into the place it had only previously occupied. But even deeper, on account of the lubricant easing its' progress. This was to sample, in some minor anticipation of what I should expect later. It passed easily inside of me, tracing the tight, dry passageway to that elusive core of pleasure that I hoped was his target. But not yet. All in good time, apparently. If he stirred me on too soon, then it would be all over, in the most unsatisfactory of conclusions. Dragging out the foreplay too long only increased the possibility that I might have gone screaming into orgasm, foregoing Muraki's part in the process entirely.

Muraki chuckled softly, delighting in my reaction. I curved forwards, head pressing tightly to the doctors chest as aroused mewls of satisfaction leaked from my tightened, bloodied lips. Muraki moved his finger in and out and I bucked on it like a fish on a hook, trying to build up an enjoyable stimulus and shuck through the uncomfortable ache. I stole upwards like a snake in mid strike and sank my teeth sharply into Muraki's shoulder, raking his arms in out of control passion.

"Slower…" I breathed, wrapping myself around his smooth white body, like a golden, candlelit sheathe. "Just… slower… Let me feel everything. Everything…" I moaned.

Muraki reduced the speed of his fingering, making for more controlled, drawn out penetrations. I nodded, closing my eyes and pushing back against that finger, settling into a rough but steady rhythm of thrusting. I felt the whole world shift but not my place in this moment; this delirious, intoxicating present.

"Oh, and every time I'm close to you

There's too much I can't say

And you just walk away

And I forgot

To tell you, I love you"

My hand fumbled down to our waists and I wrapped my fingers around the taut cock of the doctor; using my thumb to rub the sensitive area beneath the head. Muraki gasped in pleasure and arched his back off of the sheets, which in turn drove his finger down violently into the depths of my, until recently, unscathed body. I yelped as his fingernail gashed the inside of me and bit his ear sharply in a sort of 'told you so!' way. The doctor took heed and leveled our faces.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, kissing me gently, using his free hand to angle my chin upwards, whilst his finger remained submerged in the tightened flesh of my body, rubbing the injured area. "I'm sorry, darling. Are you all right?"

I nodded lightly and pressed my face against Muraki's chest, stroking his neck with a loving munificence. He in turn rested his chin atop the defining part of my mussed hair. He waited patiently for my words, holding the finger within me steady until he was given official consent. It must have taken phenomenal restraint but he managed it, perhaps more to his surprise than my own. I waited for the stinging pain to salve inside of me before addressing him, wanting to start off on a clean slate again, rather than risk tearing myself anew.

"I'm fine." I said, after a while. His chest smelt like sweat and salt and blood. "Just… try and be a little more careful, please? This is all new to me. And I… I'm frightened by every little pain that goes through me." My eyes welled up at my cowardice. "I wish I wasn't so afraid… I want this so bad! But tonight… I know I must be making this difficult for you but maybe you could be a little more gentle… if that's not asking too much."

"Of course it's not, Mr. Tsuzuki." Muraki said, kissing a trail across my hairline tenderly. I pecked his cheek, to express my gratitude and looped my arms up around his neck, reaching one hand around to brush the tears away from my cheeks, chin crooked up over his shoulder the better to promote the intimacy of our embrace.

"I'm sorry… Why should you want to reign your feelings in, after all this time, that's what you're thinking right?"

He gave a little chuckle against my shoulder, fingers stroking up between my shoulder blades, teasing that little strip of skin I was starting to favor as one of my better spots.

"When I want to shout it from every rooftop I can find? Yes, that's true also but this is not just about me, now is it? Though, you must admit that it's nice to feel yearned for and adored, I'm sure."

"Morning smile, like the face of a newborn child

Innocent, unknowing."

His words cut me – so innocent and simplistic in their meaning, but meaning so much to me. I had never had anyone refer to me in such a charming manner before. My entire life had been centered on the basis of self-loathing and perhaps the occasional physical compliment from a few less than favorable admirers. To be adored was to be viewed to the very roots and depths of my being. As childish as the sentiment was, it meant so much to me, that I could be simply loved and adored by someone who had felt so strongly before having heard me speak, seen me walk about or take my clothes off. Muraki fell for the worst part of me; the sickened, weak, insane patient in his Grandfather's hospital wing. He had seen a picture of me in this state and that was the side of me he had adored; never mind the best of me; my smile, my sense of humor, my laugh, my genteel nature. No. There he saw the wickedness, the madness, the weak soul abandoned to darkness, bequeathed in shadow, without relent, trapped in the never ending cycle of despair and sorrow, devoured eternally by the snake at his back.

The part of me that no one else had been able to accept. The part of me forever rejected and shunted aside, even by myself. And for Muraki to accept it meant that at long last I could come to the understanding that perhaps it was okay to be myself in entirety. That I didn't have to hide any longer. Bind myself up, bandage the wound that never healed and blot out the eyes of the hungry creature stirring in turmoil in the recesses of my sub consciousness.

"Winter's end, promises of a long lost friend

Speaks to me of comfort

But I fear, I have nothing to give

I have so much to lose here in this lonely place

Tangled up in your embrace

There's nothing I'd like better than to fall."

I was not alone in my monstrous hideousness. It didn't have to be ugly and I didn't have to hide it.

I didn't have to exist alone in it.

Tears flowed down over my eyelashes and it must have been too much for Muraki to stand, being witness to my surrender and the freedom it wrought me, alongside the terrible guilt. The relief at having eased the chains from my wrists. He pinched my chin between his fingers and kissed me, tongue seeking, engaging, soothing and teaching. When it ended, I wrapped my arms around his neck and we embraced tightly, tangled around one another. Never before had things been so… tender between us. He was normally vicious and pushy and ruthless, trying to force his attentions upon me from every which way. I suppose feeding from me had instilled some of my residual essence within his body and was calming him down a little as a result. I can't say for sure. Nothing that night had been exactly normal, so why should anything have returned to the way it was before? The pictures on the mantelpiece were silent and unmoving. Unbuffeted by time. And they were the remaining, unchanging continuity, freezing a time to hold but never keep. Like grains of sand through the fingers of the fist that clench to erstwhile granules; all flows away, leaving only the barest traces upon the flesh.

"I love you." I whispered, moved more towards tears by reminding myself of this fact. This was hard for me, no matter what any of the other Guardians thought otherwise. It had not come easy to me to love him. Like everything in my existence, I was pulled there by the same current of the wind that bought the cherry blossoms sweeping up across the isles year after year after year. I wished I could make Muraki understand this, how much my words truly meant because I had sacrificed so much to offer them.

"Wind in time, rapes the flower trembling on the vine

Nothing yields to shelter it

From above, they say temptation will destroy our love

The never ending hunger."

It was as though he knew anyway, possibly from the tone of my voice and the presence of my tears. I smiled slightly as I lowered my fingers to brush against the doctors' defined jaw, allowing my touch to linger more softly than Sakura petals falling upon the edge of water. I nuzzled at his lips with my own, urging him to reciprocate. I was justly rewarded as Muraki leant down and closed the small gap between our mouths, visibly shivering as my hands stroked his chest as though it were an object belonging to me.

I ended the kiss, apparently far too soon for Muraki's liking and he groaned at the lack of intimate attention. His expression soon changed however and a slight smile etched across his features as his eye followed my silken body movements. I forced my lips into a smile, trying to ignore the trembling of my lower jaw as I untangled myself from Muraki's perspiring body and shifted down onto the sheets beside him, tossing the stray clumps of my hair to the side, so that we could keep eye contact. Aware that I held the doctors rapt and unwavering attention filled me with a deep rooted stem of desire that punctured up through my body and ignited the tips of my senses like livewire. The sheets slid away from my body as I rose onto my knees and put my back to Muraki, leaning forward to cross both arms over the wooden railing at the back of the bed and then coyly resting my head against it. I turned to look over my shoulder at him, wondering whether my face was going to fall off for blushing. This was such a daring thing to do! Especially for an inexperienced guy like me! But desire, adrenaline and a little bit of alcohol had taken over by that stage and I was simply acting on it; doing whatever felt sexy and daring at that particular moment.

Muraki's eyes traveled low over my body, inspecting my bared entrance. He licked his lips and sat up a little, appearing as though he were a seconds breath from jamming himself into the sheathe of my warm body, if his breathing was anything to judge by. I swallowed nervously and released one hand from its' momentary roost, trailing my fingers down the side of my body, watching Muraki religiously, so that I wouldn't have to think too deeply on what I was doing and also to monitor his reaction. The doctor's breathing had increased drastically, arching upward to a sharp execution pitch as my slightly chipped fingernails quivered over the curve of my ass. I made a small noise, having surprised myself, which only served to stimulate Muraki further. I became aware of the doctor's own tempestuous hand sinuously sliding down the defined ridges of his abdominals and disappearing into the shadow of his loins, veiled by the somewhat starched white sheets. A puff of hot air buffeted free from his lips and his eyes fluttered shut when the willfully hot and detrimental sensation on his aching arousal shot through his body like wildfire through dry underbrush. I observed, studying his technique. He pumped his hand firmly and fluently along the taut length; often fast, other times slow, sometimes holding it so tight that I feared the circulation might be cut off but was then rewarded by the sight of his hand squeezing up the long hot member, tugging the very tip to its' full potential, making my own penis ache with need. I was aroused in watching him and I slung my hand now casually around my own hip, fingers tracing the outside of my cock with hardly any contact at all. Watching Muraki pleasure himself as he watched me to do in return was one of the most stimulating and strangely beautiful things I had ever engaged in. I stretched my body out as far as I could, dipping my spine and thrusting my backside out, mewing at my soon to be lover in what I hoped was an enticing manner.

"God Muraki…" I groaned, running my fingernails back over my butt and then daringly down into the dark clavicle; the entranceway to the place that throbbed so despairingly inside of me. "Muraki… I… I w-wanna feel ya… right here." I whimpered softly as I circled the tight ring muscle with my nail, watching Muraki's firm, strong features flush with arousal. Christ he looked beautiful in that moment. "I want you… to… to get d-down deep inside of me… quick as you can."

"Mr. Tsuzuki…" Muraki said as he released his thickening stalk and sat up behind my smaller frame, hands on either side of my narrow waist. I started trembling so bad I thought I might collapse. I bit my healing lip as he moved his body closer and bent his lips towards the center of my back.

"To feel you like I've… never felt anyone before…" I whispered, giving my backside a little wiggle. "Won't you touch me deep, Muraki? Won't you?"

"Mr. Tsuzuki." He repeated, so invested in the moment it seemed he couldn't stop saying my name. I gasped and the harsh jut of air wavered as the doctors' smeared lips worked their way down over my lower back, pulling his mouth and tongue around the muscle pattern and the sinews shifting beneath my skin. He refused to speak until he had worshipped my body accordingly. I panted softly as he nuzzled the curve of my back, fingers stroking the indent below my ribcage with such tenderness that it couldn't possibly have come from this man; this murderer, this creature soon to be my lover.

"I want you, Mr. Tsuzuki…" Said the doctor, reaching over towards the cabinet and retrieving the tube of lubricant again. "I want to dive into the very depths of you and entangle with every fleck of emotion that rises and falls through your body. Sometimes… I wonder that if this passion for you is so great that it will snap my body to pieces, as though a thousand strings have crossed one another and cut me through; severed me."

He smirked as he lowered the length of his body over mine and slipped his chin across onto the cup of my shoulder, nuzzling his cheek up against mine, with both eyes closed in which to fully appreciate the sensation that rattled his senses to the very root.

"But these thoughts aren't enough…"

"Muraki…" I breathed, my voice hot.

The doctor set to work, unscrewing the cap from the tube and repeating the lubricating of his fingers a second time over. I did not look up once, but remained stationary. My eyebrows were slightly furrowed; body quivering with badly concealed anticipation.

Muraki covered the fingers of his right hand before setting the lubricant back atop the bedside cabinet. He leant down again and pecked the line of skin trailing down beneath my ear.

"I'll draw you out of the deep end." He promised and with that having been said, he sank his index back down into my tight and resistant hole. A small growl reverberated from the depths of my throat as the rough penetration shot a stinging needle of pain into the nerve endings of my body. The passageway, within which Muraki's finger was submerged, was not a soft yielding point of entry. It was no simple task for him to stretch and prepare me and I could only imagine how painful the actual coital act itself would be. The muscles were not intended to broaden to the degree to which it would sufficiently accommodate my partner's erect penis. Even one finger was enough to cause a little pain, which was frustrating because my body kept attempting to heal, even as Muraki negotiated with it tirelessly, wearing it down, forcing it to submit. But the pain, the sting was exciting because of the nature of the very act itself, more so than the sensation. I felt as though I were rising up on a great wave and bearing down rapidly to catch up to everyone who had been swept further upstream by the current, long before I had even entered the water itself.

"Ahhh!" I groaned, a sound sufficient enough to express my acquiescent desire. I felt the subtle pressure; a cascading warmth that crept up through my loins and down the backs of my quivering thighs. With eyes raised over the line of my shoulder I observed Muraki's expression; the barest hint of his demonic aptitude in the manner of his glistening eye and the cruel vehemence of his curled upper lip, revealing slightly distended fang teeth. He leant his body regally across the expanse of my lower back, purposefully keeping any accompanying pressure off of my buttocks, for which I could only marvel at his thoughtfulness. Nose bent to the valley of my waist, he smelt my recently washed skin, like a dog testing the scent of meat for freshness and then, with an almost indiscernible hiss, sank his sharp upper canines into the center of my spine.

It was painful, but the action did not altogether come as a surprise for me. Not at this stage, anyway. I knew of his craving, knew of his carnal lust and I was prepared now to wholly receive it. I was willing. And in the midst of my sexual rhapsody, I lost myself to the strange eroticism of those teeth sinking deep into my flesh, the sharp pain that rose in accompaniment. Craning my neck back so that my face angled up towards the ceiling, I shrieked a melody that cannot be described, nor decoded and I bucked my hips back hard against the stationary finger inside of me, increasing the sensation of dualistic torture.

"Mu-ra-ki…" I panted, feeling blood running down along my forearms from where my nails, hardly long, had punctured my skin. I started to clear it away with my tongue, the proof of my passion and felt in return Muraki's thick experienced tongue slowly, evocatively, span the small wound he had made, drawing the trails of blood into his throat. I could even feel the doctor swallowing and then releasing a sigh of deep satisfaction, as though he had been quenched with the world's most refreshing beverage.

"Lovely." Muraki whispered huskily, drawing his free hand back down to caress my left buttock, massaging the tight flesh roughly to the side with his thumb, the better to expose my currently occupied entrance to his attentions, I imagined. I shuddered, and then yelped as Muraki trailed his tongue down the length of his own hand, all the way until he reached the knuckle, which was the only part of his finger protruding from my tight hole. When the doctor's tongue lightly brushed across the puckered entrance, I registered the burgeoning presence of a temperate shudder that chased thrills down my shoulders, a quiver that would have emanated directly through his lower torso, if not for Muraki's strong and resisting hold. I expressed my longing, my pain, my seventy years of suppression and frustration in the deepest moan and bit hard into my arm to keep from screaming. With great self-control, I managed to speak and complete a coherent sentence.

"Please… just… do it to me."

Muraki chuckled and I felt his lips at the small of my back once more. "You know I can't say no to you." He whispered; dabbing his finger into the still oozing blood from the wound he had made and then using this as a secondary lubricating agent as he pushed his middle finger into my body. The tight muscles in my rectum were as resilient to his onslaught as the meanest Math teacher you were ever likely to encounter but using two fingers and opening and closing them in the likeness of scissors, encouraged the rigid walls of my most intimate passageway to stretch out and relax for a while. I murmured and moaned beneath his touch, trying desperately to designate the subtle line between pleasure and pain and finding everything rather horribly snarled instead. There was no black and white; not like the contrary clothing Muraki and I wore in every occasion we had ever faced off against one another. That sort of contrast did not exist and I was a fool to have ever believed that anything could have been so easily categorized. No. There was no black. No white. Only every other shade of gray possible. No right or wrong but always, a jaded, smudged mixture of both. If you cannot distinguish between variables, then a time must surely come when you see the only solution is to unite them. Pleasure was pain. Love was lust. Black was white. Tsuzuki was Muraki. Being with him had made this every so clear in my mind. Having accepted him into my afterlife was a pleasure and at the same time the most heart wrenching, agonizing pain I had ever experienced and had once doubted was even within my capacity to imagine. But now, maybe all this really meant was that I had learnt to accept this development for what it was and by doing so, by admitting to the pain of what it meant to let someone into who you were in more ways than one, it could be balanced out by everything that was so right by it.

The lubricant made movement within my body blessedly fluid and though I had no experience in these matters, I nonetheless attempted to instigate a rhythm for Muraki to match. Over and over, he repeatedly engorged my aching rectum with his two fingers, working one hand down to impatiently separate my thighs, making penetration easier and amplifying the sensation within my body twofold. My erect penis was revealed between the now widened part of my legs and Muraki confidently reached through the gap to cheekily tug on the swelling red organ, releasing a pearly drop of pre-cum from the very tip. It fell away from the discolored head and dropped against the starchy sheets like a stained teardrop; leaving a tiny, circular wet patch against the material.

I guess I must have been feeling subsequently looser, so Muraki minimized the strength of his preparations, causing me to gasp as the fingers moved deeper and further to that subterranean, aching point at the very core. He fished them in as far as he could, bending them slightly at the joints every time he drew back. Whimpering softly under my breath, I followed this fine example that was being set and moved in time with those fingers, allowing them to delve deeper into the cavernous tunnels.

"M-Mr. Tsuzuki…" The doctor groaned, his hands suddenly darting forward to wrap around my upper arms. I was loath to feel his fingers yanked free from where they had been so satisfactorily filling me but as Muraki's hot breath fell against my ear, I doubted that I would remain empty for long. He pried me away from the headboard of the bed, where I had seemed to have attached myself barnacle like and easily flipped me onto my back, as though I were a flapjack in a frying pan. The next thing I knew, he was up between my legs, mounting me, pushing me down into the mattress. This was a new feeling for me. I often wondered how people could tolerate being crushed underneath the weight of another whilst making love but came to realize that the sensation was not entirely unpleasant after all. Rather, like a mother bird perching atop her brood, I felt warm and covered but at the same time cowed and submissive. It was a sexy feeling and I liked being able to stare up into his face, where his long, silken strands of mercury colored hair lay slicked to the skin of his cheeks and forehead. I soothed them aside with one comforting brush of my fingers, cupping his chin, caressed his mouth, rose up to meet him in a thoroughly wet and ravishing kiss. He gave it everything he had, pulling no punches as he drove me down, bracing his hands either side of me on the sheets and then alternatively bringing them to my neck and head to tousle my hair or caress my sensitized flesh. I gave into the moment, rolling with him, groping, grabbing and grinding for all it was worth, wishing to sate myself somehow. My nails in his back but mostly grasping handfuls of his hair and touching his face, working myself into a frenzy with the urge to simply devour him and yet be devoured in return. Our cocks rubbed together, spurred on by our frenzied, animalistic embrace.

"Mr. Tsuzuki." Muraki repeated, his lips breaking free from mine by only a millimeter. I had never seen him look so frazzled before in my life. His skin all over his body had adopted rosy patches, like roses blooming across snow. "I have to be in you… will you let me love you? Are you ready to accept me?"

I was a pitiful sweat soaked mess. My black hair matted to my forehead my perspiration and my eyelashes matted by tears of intermingled fear and ecstasy. I'm sure Muraki had found it tirelessly difficult not to simply dismiss with the gentleman-like pleasantries and ram his desire into me but he had defied that natural (for him) urge. Now it was my time to return the gesture in full.

I could only be grateful in some way, that it was not the Count to whom I was losing my virginity. I wondered if he would still hold me to my debts now that I was about to become pretty much useless in that regard? Somehow, I felt it unlikely that the Count would find this a reasonable excuse, though I'm sure he would be disappointed by it. Knowing him.

I looked up into Muraki's face, this man who had seen more of me than even Watari (as Ministry doctor, Muraki, don't look so panicked!) had seen. I wet my lips and linked my fingers through his, giving a fragmented, quaky, though wholly undeniable inclination of my head.

"Oh, Muraki." I whispered, as his lips gently caressed the joint of my neck. "I just don't… want to disappoint you. You must have such high expectations of me, after all this time."

"Every man does, I daresay." Muraki breathed, sitting up slightly so that he could retrieve the lubricant from the top of the cabinet again. "And I can profess most assuredly that there is no way in Hell that you might ever disappoint me, Mr. Tsuzuki."

He was squeezing the lubricant into the palm of his hand, a concentrated dollop of it. The sight of it reinforced an entirely renewed bought of quavers throughout my body.

"Can I?" I whispered, so soft I might have imagined myself saying it.

Muraki looked at me in obvious surprise but wasn't fool enough to hesitate in distributing the generous coil of the lubricant into my hand. I took the tube and added a little more, rubbing my hands together to spread it evenly about the palms. I knew Muraki was watching me and it was making me blush.

"Uh… don't watch!" I chided, as he continued to observe me with what I felt was a blatant, perverse fascination. "You're making my face all hot! Look the other way!"

"How darling. He is embarrassed." The doctor murmured, humor dancing across the lines of his face. His hands clasped mine around the wrists and gently raised them, persisting in the acceleration of this; the next act. "Come now, I will guide you. No reason to be shy."

He put my hands on him and I jerked a little, overcome by the heat, the soft yet hard touch and the deep growl that came out of Muraki's throat. I moved my hands up and down, distributing the lubricant about his member and that growl grew deeper.

"I don't know much…" I admonished, watching the restraint in Muraki's face as he struggled not to push into my touch and hinder, or even frighten me away entirely from my task. I used a bit more lubricant, wanting to make sure he was well and oiled before trying to get inside of me. Less chance of it hurting that way, or so I'd been told.

"It's… all right." Muraki murmured, his eyes shut and head tilting languidly from side to side. His lips looked full and puffy, no doubt from our rancorous kissing throughout the night. "I know a lot. You should only do your best and enjoy yourself."

I finished lubricating him but was reluctant to let go, knowing that it would signal the next step in our proceedings. But Muraki had felt the slowing of my movements and knew that I was done. He opened his eyes, smiled down at me and set the lubricant aside once more.

"Are you ready?"

I gave myself pause, only to truly consider just what I was about to give up in this momentous act between us. But then I nodded, trying not to let my nerves get the better of me. Muraki didn't smile as he moved his lips over onto mine, his tongue pausing questioningly at the corner of my mouth. I accepted his kiss and Muraki slipped his tongue over, allowing me to taste the full volume of his passion and permitting this clear distraction.

"It will hurt, at first." He reminded me, sliding back into position atop me and staring down with understanding evident in his visible eye. "Do try and go with it and shortly you shall feel something like nothing ever before. A flower shall burst forth from the seed I plant inside of you…" He kissed me again, sweetly. Deeply. "Get ready. Clamp your thighs tightly about my waist. Relax your body as much as possible and steel yourself for me."

I did as I was told, shaking so badly I thought I might not be able to move my various limbs into place but I managed it. Finally. I rested my head back against the pillow, just staring up into Muraki's face as he stared back down into mine; watching me, gauging my response. I wasn't sure what to do with my hands, so at the last minute I resolved to dig them around Muraki's waist, grabbing a firm hold of his burgeoning love handles. I mean, that's what they were there for right?

I felt his cock there, at the pucker.

"Oh God…" I whispered. Not to Muraki, certainly not to God… maybe not even to myself. I was so frightened. To be plundered this way… to stand at the crossroads and sense that my soul itself was in jeopardy and might never be salvaged. I dug my nails into the soft flesh around Muraki's hips. "Muraki…"

"Don't be afraid." It came more as an impatient command, rather than a reassurance and I couldn't say I blamed him. I raised myself, touched my cock against his belly and heard the deep noise burst from him on account of it.

"I love you…" I murmured and this was all the teasing he could take. Kneeling with his right leg slightly extended forward and the left set further back, Muraki kept most of his weight off of me as, with a hand positioned beside my head, he maneuvered himself slowly, grindingly forward. It was like witnessing the transient movement of machinery, a joint stirring in its' foundations. I had this much time to muse on this final philosophical thought before, with a blinding, exciting clarity that sent sharp pains of ecstasy shooting up into my stomach, Muraki's long contained desire finally found its' mark. I clenched his sides, head tilted back, eyes jamming shut and I bit my lip until it bled as his cock slid up and at the same time, deep down into me. He submerged only half of his pounding desire but he may as well have shucked himself in down to the bristles, the result was the same. In this first, initial act of penetration my ninety-eight long years of a chaste existence had come to a grateful conclusion and my virginity was no more.

"Darling… how are you fairing?" Muraki's voice was thick and he held himself still inside of me with venerable restraint. I could feel his body quivering between my hands and his eye was squeezed into a thin crescent. I had my bottom lip between my teeth and I was biting it, trying to push through the pain. It ached and it felt unnatural… agonizing.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…" I whispered, closing my eyes and tilting my head back into the pillows, unconsciously trying to ease myself up and off of the intrusion. Muraki took some of the weight off of his hands to cup my bottom, holding me in place against my wriggling protests.

"Don't." He urged, submerging himself a little deeper inside of me as a result of our movements. I whimpered and sucked my lips back further into my mouth. "Mr. Tsuzuki… if you try and pull away too quickly, you will tear yourself. You would do well to just… try and relax. We can work into this… there's no rush."

Overcome by the pain (finally understanding just what Watari had been talking about) I could only nod, digging my nails in harder and tighter, panting in an effort to endure. I arched my back, groaning softly against the pain that Muraki attempted to distract me from, by trailing his long fingernails down the arches of my chest, down along my hips and onto my thighs. The tactic worked, because the pain, though still accountable in formidable stature, had dimmed somewhat. Muraki kissed the side of my face, applying substantial pressure as proof of his passion.

"Trust me." He said and it was disabling to hear the genuine sincerity in his voice; for him to issue a request of me, rather than an order. I swallowed heavily, trying not to move too much as Muraki leant his forehead down against my own, occasionally adjusting the axis of his chin in order to clash our mouths together in feisty and combatative contest. "Trust how my heart beats for you… if you doubt my feelings, then all you'll ever feel is that pain. Is that all you ever want, Mr. Tsuzuki? Pain?"

I shivered, lifting my arms to slide around Muraki's hips and over his back, embracing my lover with determined strength. My thighs tightened around his waist, as though magnetically drawn towards one another. And I looked up at him with a fierce adoration I had never before possessed for this man.

"I trust you… Kazutaka." And then, with a flush of sudden audaciousness, I sank my nails into the doctors' spine, yanking his hips down as hard and as fast as I could. In turn, Muraki found his penis thrust deep into the nadir of my untouched caverns, spearing a capitalizing pain up through my body that slammed deeply into the nodes of my brain. My body arched upward, causing our chests to slap together violently and an unfathomable screech erupted from my lips, the sound unlike any I had ever made before. It was desire and agony personified in sound and tenor, the cry of an animal in the throes of immortal coalescence. My back had risen completely off of the bed sheets, legs scrambling desperately on either side of Muraki's body, rising and rubbing the material in such brisk repetitiveness that it was a wonder flames didn't erupt from my heels. I suppose Muraki could see no point in further prolonging what pain lingered between our unification and so raised his hips, driving downward so powerfully I thought he was trying to punch a hole through me and into the sheets and mattress that supported my body. He eased himself in all the way to the scrotum, panting with maddening fervor as I twisted beneath him, nails scratching lacerations into his back as I was broken in. He warmed me up slowly, for which I was most grateful. Leisurely rolling his pelvis back and forth. Back and forth – slow and gentle to allow me time to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.

"Oh… gentle. Gentle." I chided, squirming as a sharp sliver of pain wormed up through me. I was shushed, a smooth hand passed tenderly across my sweat wracked features.

"Shh… you're doing so well. So well." For all intensive purposes, he sounded like a proud father, praising his sons' achievements. "It won't be long now before you start to feel that warm, pleasurable sensation… and then, only then, will I allow myself the privilege of speeding up."

He was right. It didn't take long at all for my yelps of pain to subside into gradually deepening purrs of satisfaction. The enduring sting from the initial penetration remained as a consistent reminder of the apparent sin in which we were indulging but it was overcome and shunned insolently by the cloud of gratifying warmth that transcended from my loins. I added to Muraki's efforts by dipping my hips in time with the ridiculous serene rhythm at which his pelvis maneuvered. Muraki didn't bother to suppress a moan as his cock received the stimulated friction. I tightened the muscles in my ass as much as I was able and shucked my hips down, the force of shimmying down Muraki's length causing him to belt out a sound that was something between a scream and a choked gasp, lifting his upper torso in order to whip his hair back off of his face and transmit the exclamation towards the ceiling. I grasped his hips desperately, struck by the insane and most irrational fear that the doctor would be torn from my body at any second. My teeth were bared; my eyebrows furrowed in concentration as I tirelessly assaulted Muraki's trapped cock with the fabrication of my tortured pathway. It continued to hit me, again and again, the pleasure coursing through me like an overdose of delusion, injected directly into the blue conduits of my veins.

"Faster… puh-please… Kazutaka…" I managed to gasp and Muraki grinned in spite of himself. He obeyed immediately and powered his hips into action, churning them back and forth like the mechanics of heavy machinery, pressing up and down into my body with unabated haste. That primitive mewling sound coursed out of my chest again and I gripped Muraki's back so tightly it was a wonder I didn't tear the skin off in two separate directions. At the time however, I had no such reservations. Muraki was nearing that place in me that I had knew existed and had been explored by no one other than the man above me. I was transcending; rising up on that wave and writhing with the loss of my inhibitions, bucking and panting and occasionally dribbling out from the corner of my mouth. Oh, but it didn't matter. How could it matter when I was able to feel him just beyond the doorway to my hidden secret world of indescribable pleasure?

"Uh! Muraki! M-move… move to the r-ruh-right… j-ju-just a lu-lu-lu- Ah… ah! Oh God…" The word slipped out in desperation, my legs curling up towards our joined waists like flower petals curling in the harsh sunlight. My eyes were again clenched shut, all the better to concentrate on maneuvering Muraki's cock into the place I so desperately required it. "Please, please, please… Oh, just… THERE! Yes, there! There! Oh- harder! Muraki – AH!"

He slammed into me with renewed vigor, egged on by my purposefully provocative cries. I felt him in the deepest part of me, stroking over bundles of nerves that distributed pure, maddening pleasure in ever increasing bursts. It seemed to me that I was taking a transient step upward with every stroke of sensation, rising to breaking point and hungering in equal measure for the completion and continuation of the act. Eyes pinched shut, I raised my legs higher, clamping my knees around Muraki's chest and feeling him go deeper as a result. It shed the final shrapnel of reservation buried within my sub consciousness and I reverted to something so unlike me I barely recognized myself in that animalistic savagery.

Muraki operated for the most part with his teeth clenched tightly together and little growls would now and then filter out from between his lips, as his body moved back and forward with as dedicated precision as a metronome. His cock moved forward and back inside of me, sometimes so raw it seemed about as appealing as sandpaper being rubbed inside of me. More so then the actual movement, I enjoyed the feel of his penis stretching me outward, the way it actually throbbed within the confines of my body, squeezed stalwartly by my tight bottom as he thrust in and out of my slight entrance. I held him with both arms now around the neck, awash with the fiery sensations gallivanting through my senses with each perfect stroke to my prostate, inviting… no, pleading the shadow of orgasm to step forward and be accounted for.

"Faster…" I urged and Muraki pushed his hips quickly into my buttocks, sliding his hand down to wrap around my penis, hastening the rhythm of his fingers to match the aching movement inside of me. The double turn of pleasure caused my back to arch dramatically and Muraki sat up, releasing his remaining arm from its' position around my body. I didn't altogether mind. This sacrifice enabled his cock to penetrate even further and I whimpered at the preciseness of the former murderers dips; each one flaying my prostate with perfect, unobstructed coordination. I could feel the encroaching rise of orgasm, the rise that had never before overflowed in this such act and was never intended to. I wanted Muraki to move faster but knew that doing so would risk my beautiful lover ejaculating before I did and if that happened, my own orgasm would slip away too quickly to catch and bring back.

"Mu-raaa-kiii…" I whimpered, slipping back into the habit of referring to him by his family name, my distraction was so great. I reached up beneath his armpits (generally not a nice place to associate with during lovemaking, I soon discovered) and sunk my fingernails into his deltoid muscles, sliding my legs downward to wrap around the lower half of Muraki's back. His mouth closed about the curve of my chin as I tilted my head back, baring my throat to the ceiling and his tongue slurped down and around as though tasting me. I could feel his teeth gingerly grazing my flesh but not penetrating, the suction of his drawn breath lifting the heat from my skin. To increase the sensation, I kept my eyes firmly closed, murmuring, intermittently whimpering and on one embarrassing occasion actually squealing. Muraki's pace had considerably decelerated, as though he understood my desire to return to a more sedate velocity. His thumb rubbed over the sensitive head of my cock and I caught a glimpse of his serene expression from between the slit of my eyelids before I fell back against the pillows, letting go of his back in favor of gripping the bars on the backboard of the bed. Our bodies rose and fell in orchestration with the conductions of our hips and as the friction assaulted me again and again, it became clear to me that Muraki was going to spend himself at any second. His face was pinpricked with sweat and he was gasping in and out at half-second intervals. I could tell he was reaching the apex of his capabilities and desperately desired release. Hissing between the gaps of his upper and lower rows of teeth, he glanced down, into my eyes and moaned as witness to the no doubt despairing expression on my face.

"Mu… Kazutaka… don't stop…" I begged. Already I could sense my lovers' completion at nigh and the rapidity of his pelvis, forewarned my own hesitant, submerged orgasm. "So close… please…"

Muraki smiled, shook his head and planted a kiss on my mouth, sealing an unspoken vow.

"If you cannot join me in Eden," He said, mechanical eye shining red in the darkness. "Then I shall remain with you in Hell…"

He grasped my hips and hurriedly thrust into me, focusing on maintaining a random, but thoroughly arousing rhythm. I gasped at the drastic change in our routine and actually screamed for the first time that night, groaning without shame as the pleasure started to wrack me again, every hodgepodge of movement inside of me reeling my orgasm back close to the surface, like an inquisitive fish that was considering snapping up a tasty lure bobbing just in it's reach.

Muraki suddenly tugged his cock free, causing a strange, momentary flux of physical relief and lifted my legs, smacking my ass roughly. I blushed, staring up at him with a childlike expression, completely inappropriate in context. His cheeks were as red as my own no doubt were, (and not only the cheeks upon my face, thanks to Muraki's aforementioned slap to the posterior) there was blood dribbling dried trails down his neck and back. I could have come from just this breathtaking view alone but it clearly wasn't enough incentive for my long restrained body to give up the ghost. (So the speak).

"Roll over." The doctor commanded and then, without warning, took it upon himself to help and twisted me onto my stomach. I squeaked at the sudden rush of movement and clenched the bedsheets tightly, tensing my body in preparation.

"Gentle, gentle, gentle!" I reminded him, in increasing stages of urgency as I felt his cock squeeze into place between the crack of my ass. His pelvis weighed heavy on my buttocks, his hands positioned themselves on either side of my head and his face was so close to my neck that I could feel the longer strands of his hair tickling my ears. His breath was hot; it warmed my saturated scalp, hair soaked through with sweat. He grunted in means of reply, positioning himself above me, animal like. His chest touched my back; his knees leveraged into the mattress and managed his weight. I became used to this position after a while; he always kept one leg forward and the other back, to give himself more maneuvering capabilities; to keep greater control over the strength and movement of his pelvis. It was one of those subtle features that contributed towards making him such a phenomenal lover.

"Shh…" He soothed, sucking peacefully on the shell of my ear. "Almost there… just a little longer…"

"You make it sound like a car trip," I puffed, releasing the bedsheets only long enough to brush my hair out of my eyes and clean the dribble away from my mouth. "If that was the case we could… play eye spy…"

"With my little eye." Muraki chuckled and I heard the distinct ting of his fingernail tapping against his mechanical eyeball. "Hang in there…" He whispered sensually, caressing my hairline with his chin. "It's not enough yet… there's still so much more I want to show you…"

"Muraki…" I winced and clenched my teeth as that hard thick shaft slid back up inside of me, the doctor steering my hips in an effort to spare me the additional pain. I groaned, chin and neck coming up off of the mattress and my body stretching out to its' full capacity. My expression I knew must have appeared thoroughly stricken because he was ravishing me and he pulled no punches in doing so. My fingers twitched above the bedsheets as I tried again and again to grasp the folds into my fist but I couldn't bend my knuckles down in order to make the coalescent bud. My toes rubbed the material, legs curling up, and then pushing down to their full length, in a movement reminiscent of my perhaps pushing an imaginary attacker away. My cries of passion were so loud I could only surmise that anyone within range could hear me clearly and know exactly what was going on. Yet even this knowledge failed to cow me in the slightest. It was so close… it was twitching… a mere centimeter below the surface.

"Kazu… KAZUTAKA!!"

I screamed. It ripped from me, raw and primal and urgent, fluting out and piercing the air, tugging thick, deep gasps from my lungs and shattering all breath that remained into a pattern of sobs. I actually saw stars… little white lights that filled my vision, pinpricks through my eyes as the pleasure momentarily blinded me to the material world. Muraki's thrusts continued to work through me, drawing a gasp here, a cough there, a breath that quickly burst free as that elusive bloom of pleasure… that flower he had planted inside of me, blossomed in the light that this descendant of darkness had brought me to.

This thing that had quivered, and dithered and slithered beneath the surface inside of me finally burst free of those constraints long stretched above its' head and snatched the lure from the world above it had never even known existed. Here was the place, the Eden… the forgotten melody. The place everyone seemed to venture to at least once and that had been barred from me my entire life was now the kingdom of Muraki and myself. The keys were now in my hand. I'd leapt clear from the waters that had confined me for almost an entire century and reached high enough to touch Heaven, if only by a thread and in the passing of a second.

And in that second, something else was broken. The chains upon my neck, the erstwhile condition I'd felt necessary to invest myself within, if only to feed this delusional belief I'd long withheld; this need to be forever punished. Why must I have denied myself this? No longer would I be that tired, relentlessly kind, self-sacrificing Tsuzuki everyone remembered from before. I would cow tow to no one. Because now, in that moment and forever after I would have roses and the memory of Eden upon one fingertip to remind me that I had always been a better person than I'd ever let myself and others believe.

This rupture came through me and salved a wound I'd long since learnt to exist with. The only wound my remarkable healing ability had been unable to knit shut. For the first time ever I felt as though I had been released from something… something I had never known held me captive. In the act of copulating with Muraki he had severed my final bond with the Ministry of Hades. My loyalty and as such my reverence towards those responsibilities Enma had long bestowed upon me.

Rapture… a deep rapture that healed me. I could be this person now. I could love Muraki, could be here and live never knowing what might come the day after. I could eat and garden, could wear whatever I wanted and do whatever I wanted and apologize to no one.

I was me. And Muraki, of all the persons in the world, had let me be no one else but.

Such thoughts were in my heart, in my mind, in every line of my body as I finally came, tears streaming from my eyes as I streamed from that other place also. A great spurt of long withheld sexual build up shot out of me, onto the bedsheets and the few remaining rose petals that had not yet stuck to our skin. Muraki darted backwards, momentarily freeing himself from my body in order to lift my bottom and capture my still expostulating cock in his mouth, swallowing my first ever coital-induced-seed as though it were fresh spring water. It made me embarrassed, remembering how I had been unable to ingest his semen earlier that day; how distasteful I had found it. Each and every time Muraki drank from me, he acted as though it were the most desirable thing ever. The sensation of his lovely cool mouth around my hot manhood sent me spiraling once more and dark clouds danced before my eyes.

So… that was how it was.

When I was finally able to speak, I expressed to him my earlier thoughts; about how I was embarrassed to have been unable to accommodate his taste the way he so freely did mine. Muraki just smiled as he licked clean my pelvic area, almost like an animal attentive of its' young.

"Don't be upset by something like that, Mr. Tsuzuki…" He whispered, gently rolling me over so that I was on my back again. He mounted me, wrapping me up entirely and looking upon me with such loving munificence that I almost didn't feel him slide inside of my plundered aperture again. "With some people it simply takes practice… others simply never warm to the taste. It's nothing to be ashamed of." He smirked as he lowered his lips to mine and indeed I frowned with revulsion, as I tasted my own juices upon his lips and tongue. "It's certainly something that I would be… more than happy to work on." He started to move again and I simply held him, fighting back the resurrection of pleasure beginning to course through me, overcome by fatigue and simply wanting to rest. But not first without feeling Muraki make claim to me. This was the final cord I felt needed to be cut and to swallow the doctors' seed would accomplish it. And for the first time that night, I was able to observe Muraki's disposition in the act of lovemaking. The little roll of his shoulders, corresponding in kind to the rise and fall of his hips. The sound of his voice… not a gasp, or a scream but controlled as I had come to expect of him. Small murmurs of satisfaction, gentle soothing purrs… an encouraging coo, a little growl. His fingernails dug into my lower back, persuading me to arch my spine and open myself up a little more to him. In he went… deeper… deeper still. Touching, stirring additional sleepy coils of pleasure into awakening. He moved with such ease, such expertise… I felt like a clumsy idiot, as though I were learning a dance for the first time and my partner had just come from the finals in Blackpool. I could only surrender, panting softly and allow myself to recover from the wonderful eruption of pleasure. The abstinence barely lasted seconds however, as with one deciding thrust, I was brought back down to earth by Muraki's throaty grunt as he ruptured deep inside my body. The hot, wonderful liquid shot through my passageways and I closed my eyes, pushing my hips down so that no drop was wasted. I may not have been able to taste him from my mouth but I would be damned if I could not take him inside of me this way.

A beautiful gasp threaded up through Muraki's throat and traversed between his lips as he stretched back, baring his neck and chest to the night air. His long eyelashes fluttered in ecstasy as he pulled his weight back onto his knees, gasping at the blessed air as though he had held his breath whilst taking me.

We lay there together, trembling from the little aftershocks and reflecting on what the two of us had shared. My first time – my very first time, the moment I would remember for the rest of my life. To think that Muraki – Muraki – of all people, had been my first! And as long as I existed, I would never forget the taste of him, the feeling of him inside of me and the scent of his skin. And I would never forget the satisfaction; as though centuries of tension had just been lifted from my shoulders.

Finally Muraki relaxed his body and slowly slid his hips backward, steering himself gently out of my aching orifice. I grunted a little with every movement and emitted a slight moan as he fell away completely, spilling his juices at the opening of my cavity. I actually felt my body close, as though sealing back into place and then Muraki's fingers were at my neck, lifting my chin and his lips kissed away the tears suspended upon the corner of my eyes.

"You did wonderfully." His thick, deep voice praised me as none had ever done before. I would endure none of the verbal abuse from Muraki that I had my fellow Guardians. Sure, a snide comment here and there but never outright degradation; something I had grown much weary of in my old age. Perhaps this sounds childish, which it is, of course. But was it too much, after so many years of suffering an age-old insecurity, to experience such adoration? Even if Muraki and I barely knew one another as people, at least we could exist in that moment here and now. And I could understand kindness on a level in which I didn't need to reach deep to see, or touch or feel it. "Thankyou, Mr. Tsuzuki…"

My lips were trembling as I slid my hand up over the back of his neck and pulled him down close, so that our noses intersected. His hair had gone slightly kinky at the roots from sweat.

"I … th-think…" I swallowed, trying to master control of my voice. " – you can call me Asato now."

**Muraki**

**17 Years Ago…**

Saki reached into his pocket and retrieved a small box. He pressed it into the palm of my hand.

"This is my Caul," He told me, not ignorant of my deeply puzzled disposition. "The remnants of the amniotic sac that covered my face when I was born. I need you to keep it safe and hidden, unknown to anyone but yourself."

I took the box in my hand. It was red and patched and tied tightly with worn string that seemed to have been set in place a long time ago.

"But why?" I naturally asked.

He smiled at me, there beneath the last rain. "That Caul retains all vestiges of my identity. My memories. A completed DNA sequence unaltered from my birth. Its' preservation is vital above all else." He pressed my other hand over it. "Put it in a place where no one will find it and then do what you can to forget that you have." He ran his hand down the back of my head and then tapped my chest with the back of his fist. "As long as a part of me remains in this world, I won't ever die. I can only hope this will all make sense to you one day. All of it."

I took the Caul from him that day. I hid it. And as promised, I forgot it.

And I let him bask in the rain, his last rain, until the final few tears had dried upon his face.

We, that is to say, all human souls, experience at some point or another, a last rain. We doubt our sense of who we are and where are lives are likely to end up. Our uncertainty divides us in two and a dark rift reveals itself, out from which spills a confounding darkness. Ever difficult to restrain, even harder to contain.

This rift is the fracture. And when it occurs, we are faced with that single opportunity to branch out onto either side of the rift. Do we move forward with the provision of that weakness? Do we allow that darkness to consequentially dictate our destiny? Or do we step onto the other side of that rift as it opens beneath our feet and hold both hands over that blistering uncertainty and push it straight back down to whence it came?

At some point or another, I stepped over that chasm and gave myself over to the darkness.

Loathe though I am to confess, I had been truly confounded to see Saki again. Despite all my cynical posturing, regardless of every certainty I had ascertained concerning my choice to cross to the far side, here I was looking back over that fracture to see my brother, whom I had openly held responsible for all evil I had ever exacted, staring back at me, hands still pressed down over that swelling darkness, with the rain upon his face.

I had forgotten his strength.

Even in death, he was stronger than I had ever been in life.

I suppose I have his 'father' to thank for that.

Whoever he was.

**- EC -**

**"Goodnight Moon"**

There's a nail in the door  
And there's glass on the lawn  
Tacks on the floor  
And the TV is on  
And I always sleep with my guns  
When you're gone

There's a blade by the bed  
And a phone in my hand  
A dog on the floor  
And some cash on the nightstand  
When I'm all alone the dreaming stops  
And I just can't stand

What should I do I'm just a little baby  
What if the lights go out and maybe  
And then the wind just starts to moan  
Outside the door he followed me home

Well goodnight moon  
I want the sun  
If it's not here soon  
I might be done  
No it won't be too soon 'til I say  
Goodnight moon

There's a shark in the pool  
And a witch in the tree  
A crazy old neighbor and he's been watching me  
And there's footsteps loud and strong coming down the hall  
Something's under the bed  
Now it's out in the hedge  
There's a big black crow sitting on my window ledge  
And I hear something scratching through the wall

Oh what should I do I'm just a little baby  
What if the lights go out and maybe  
I just hate to be all alone  
Outside the door he followed me home  
Now goodnight moon  
I want the sun  
If it's not here soon  
I might be done  
No it won't be too soon 'til I say  
Goodnight moon

Well you're up so high  
How can you save me  
When the dark comes here  
Tonight to take me up  
To my front walk  
And into bed where it kisses my face  
And eats my head

Oh what should I do I'm just a little baby  
What if the lights go out and maybe  
And then the wind just starts to moan  
Outside the door he followed me home  
Now goodnight moon  
I want the sun  
If it's not here soon  
I might be done  
No it won't be too soon 'til I say  
Goodnight moon  
No it won't be too soon 'til I say  
Goodnight moon

X

**Moroaică: A supernatural being of Romania, the country from which Muraki's mother originated. (Spoiler!) The ****Moroaică**** is a female version of a ****Moroi****, which is a living vampire that sustains itself by drawing energy from the living. They are described as being pale, phantom like figures with fair features that are bound in their bloodthirsty acts to the moon.**

**Reference to lyrics from the song, 'Time is on my side'. Additional veiled reference to the movie ****'Fallen' ****starring Denzel Washington, in which a demon by the name of Azazel passes from host to host simply by a brush of contact. Whenever the demon took possession of a new host, he would taunt the main character by singing the key lines from the song, '****Time is on my side. Yes it is…' ****indicating that he was immortal and would live forever.**

**A/N: **

**Hickock: **"Goodnight moon." I like that song a lot. A little on the creepy side but in a funny way it seems to work for Muraki and Tsuzuki. Well? What did you guys think?

**All: **…

**Hickock: **Um… hello?

**Tsuzuki: **(Tomato faced) I… am so… embarrassed. I'm never leaving this room again.

**Muraki: **Splendid idea, Mr. Tsuzuki. And I shall keep you company.

**Watari: **Awesome! Now all the four main characters have had sex!

**Oriya: **… You make it sound as though the four main characters all had sex _together, _Yutaka.

**Watari: **What? _No! _That's not what I meant!

**Muraki: **Although some people do like that. Not me, I meant… readers… Or something. Stop looking at me!

**Hickock: **Perhaps if the ratings sag… In my case, if I stop getting as many reviews as I would like. That's what they do in soap opera's after all!

**Tatsumi: **I don't actually think that _any _soap opera has gone so far as to integrate a group sex scene.

**Saki: **Depends what channel you watch.

**Hisoka: **How would you know? You don't actually watch that stuff do you?

**Saki: **Me? No. I only like cooking and talk shoes.

**Oriya: **He does. Whenever a cooking show comes on, he hangs off a chair with his head upside down to watch it.

**Tsuzuki: **… Um… okay. …Any reason in particular why he does this?

**Oriya: **Oh, he thinks it's funny how when they pour stuff, the liquid goes up instead of down.

**Saki: **I enjoy anything that defies the natural laws of physics.

**Watari: **Saki, I'm ashamed of you! Science is an important factor in defining how the world around us works and as such we should respect the natural order of things and not try to fight against it! Dammit, _nothing _can defy the natural laws of physics! … Except maybe Oriya's stamina but that's the _only _exception!

**Oriya: **…

**Muraki: **My goodness, you've almost gone as red as Mr. Tsuzuki, Oriya.

**Oriya: **(To Watari) Don't make allusions to our sex life in public, Yutaka! No one else needs to hear about it!

**Hickock: **Everyone hears about it, Oriya. That's the joy of fanfiction.

**Oriya: **Dammit, you know what I mean! Sex is a private thing and I think that's a very healthy way of looking at it! Sex is something that's between you and the person you're doing it to!

**Tsuzuki: **… Best description… of sex _ever._

**Watari: **For goodness sake Oriya, everyone does it. Well… _almost _everyone does it.

**Tsuzuki: **Don't look at me like that! I'm not a Chastity Boy anymore!

**Watari: **Oh right, darn. Sorry but it's pretty much ingrained now. Gonna take a while for me to get used to thinking of you as anything else.

**Hickock: **(Yawns) Well readers, thankyou as always for your company today. Hope you enjoyed the update. I can't give you a peek preview of what will happen next chapter because I am still sorting that out myself. But keep an eye on my profile page for updates and changing character profiles. Collect the whole set! Oh and please sign the guest book on the way out.

**Muraki: **That means 'Please review folks'.

**Hickock: **That's right! Keep safe and happy, wash behind your ears, look both ways before crossing the road and… oh, what else? Um… ….

**All: **(Waits for the next wave of profundities to start spilling from her mouth)

**Hickock: **… oh stuff it; I'm far too tired to think of anything smart to say. Love you all, please review, updates as soon as I can, write MuTsu and OriTari for _my _reading pleasure and um… you all rock, etc. Might go and have a drink now.

**Watari: **On me! Let's celebrate Tsuzuki finally losing his virgin-ness!

**Count: **(Continues to sob in the corner as everyone trundles off for a round of Jáger bombs, champagne and cigarettes.) WHY?! GOD WHY?!


	31. Muraki: Confined by You

**_Dark Adaptation_**

**Disclaimer: **I, Yoko Matsushita, hereby pledge, that in my absence from the writing and illustrating of the Yami no Matseui series, I have given Hickok (Alias: Some-random-schmuck) full authority over its' characters, content and plot, with which to do as she wishes. And in the event that I do eventually return to resume command over the series, that I will not be furious with the way it has turned out, nor will I take such action as to complain, protest, condemn or file charges.

**Hickok: **Thanks Yoko, baby! Now, are you guys ready for some more DA action?!

**Yoko: **HEY! I didn't authorize that!

**Hickok: **Details, details… anyway, you guys know the drill right now. I bet you could read it back to me if ya wanted. It ain't mine, I'm making no money, all characters depicted having hot sweaty man-sex are over the age of 18 and are therefore legal and flamers shall be eaten by my cannibal demon Eurynomous.

**A/N: **(Sneezes) Hey everyone! Hard to believe, we're alweady on de 31'st chapter of _Dark Adaptation_!

**Muraki: **I can believe it. I'm exhausted. And what's wrong with you anyway, Hickok?

**Hickok: **Whaddya mean?

**Watari: **Well, you're kinda talking like Meowth.

**Muraki: **At least she's not talking like James. Imagine how embarrassing _that _would be.

**Watari: **Shuddup.

**Tsuzuki: **Yeah Hickok… and you're looking somewhat pastier than usual.

**Hickok: **I hab da flu, okay?!

**Saki: **Flu? Girl, you don't have time to have the flu! We should be celebrating your next chapter of _DA!_

**Hickok: **All I wanna do is stuff tissues up by nobse, curl up in a ball on da sofa and slowly drown in by own phlegm. (Collapses onto the couch)

**Oriya: **Yes, well before you get too comfortable with that, at least give the readers the courtesy of your welcome spiel.

**Hickok: **Hai, hai… (Sits up, bleary eyed) Greetings to all ye lovely readers! Thankyou as always for your wonderful reviews (sorry if I didn't get back to all of you, or didn't respond because you were anonymous. Trust me, I did appreciate everything you guys said more than you'll know!) and support. This chapter I'll admit was a little more difficult than I had anticipated, partly because it wasn't even in the original storyline! But it gave me a chance to have Muraki talk about his past a little more and an excuse for more MuTsu goodness, which I'm sure you guys appreciate.

**Count: **Now, now, Hickok. You know they only read your fanfic for the storyline.

**Hickok: **Damn straight! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it. Needless to say, it contains lemon-ness, so don't say you weren't warned! Characters depicted in the explicit yaoi-ness are over the age of eighteen and are therefore legal, unlike all those Tsuzuki/Hisoka pairings out there. (Dodges various missile implements from all TsuSoka fans) Dammit! How do they always find me?! Well, what are you guys waiting for? Have at it! Oh and thanks as always to my dear friend and fellow fanfic-ist Jollyolly for supporting me from day one and also for betta-reading this new chappie. And being kind enough to give it the thumbs up. Means a lot to me doll! (Makes 'Ok' sign before passing out face first into the sofa)

**Muraki: **Be sure to get those cushions dry-cleaned after she's revived, won't you?

**Oriya: **I'll try and remember…

**XxXxXxXxXx**

**_Seventeen Years Ago…_**

_Kazutaka Muraki had been fifteen when Saki Shidou confronted their father._

_The memory has been burned into his mind ever since._

_Yeryuto Muraki, son of Yukitaka Muraki, made his way down the stairs of the manor, suitcase thumping bodily down the steps in his wake. Kazutaka had been studying quietly in the right hand den, the double doors propped open so that he might see first hand who was coming and going. He glanced up at the sound of the suitcase hitting the carpeted steps, his eyes widening behind his thin-framed reading glasses. Always the studious sort, he very rarely let his fathers persistent comings and goings distract him from his work but this time it came as a surprise to him and the biology books were closed with violent haste._

_Yeryuto noticed his younger son standing in the doorway, staring at him with inquisitive but simultaneously mournful eyes. The senior Muraki sighed irritably, as though his arrival had been of great agitation and checked the time on his fob watch, swaying from the cut of his dark blue button up vest._

_"Don't give me that look, Kazutaka." He stated with the impatient air and grace of a man who despised having his immaculate schedule disturbed. "There's a small emergency with one of my patients in the Amakusa islands and they require my immediate attentions."_

_"But… you just got back from your last trip…" Kazutaka drawled, looking down towards his feet and trying to voice his objection without seeming overtly combatative. Yeryuto looked away from him, lest his resolve to continue forward out that door be weakened._

_"Please Kazutaka, don't make a fuss. You wouldn't want to upset your mother." He said; as Sakaki arrived in time to relieve Yeryuto of his case, walking it back out to where the car had been parked. "Now, I won't be long. A few days at most."_

_"So why not stay longer?"_

_Kazutaka seemed to visibly wince as he looked up the stairs at his elder half-brother. Saki had not been well for some time. Since Oriya's devastating accident, he seemed to have tired of his infectious zest for life and the peppy nature that was as much his trademark as his rain blue eyes. He was glaring down at their father now, with a mixed expression of great dislike and somehow, a distinct lack of lack of sympathy._

_"Saki-" Kazutaka began, intending to humbly request his strong brother relapse into silence but Saki was having none of it. He was mad, which was unusual in its' own right. He usually treated their father with sarcasm and a grudging but good-natured acceptance. None of this was now visible on his pale face._

_"You don't wanna be here with us, so why not cut it out with the promises you clearly hate making and stay away forever?" Saki snapped in a brusque voice. He was clearly pushing for a fight. Kazutaka had seen him pull this self same act with other boys at their school but never their own father! "Leave us be. Don't come back. I know how to take care of myself. Did it for years before you decided to poke your nose in. And I can damn well take care of 'Zuta too. Be much better off with me. At least I care about him!"_

_"Saki!" Kazutaka forced himself to interrupt, frightened by the shared expression of loathing both his father and brother were directing toward one another. "Saki, Father and I are having a discussion. Please, just let me speak for myself for once."_

_Saki gave him a look that immediately cowed the younger boy. "You're so scared of him that it renders you completely incapable of speaking for yourself, little brother. I, on the other hand, feel I owe him no favors and as such I'm not afraid to speak up!"_

_Yeryuto seemed to not have heard Kazutaka's interruption and his furious features remained locked on his accidentally sired son, who even then was purposefully strolling down the stairs to meet him head on._

_"I beg your pardon but what did you say?"_

_Saki shrugged his shoulders churlishly, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his casual pants. "The truth. You're going out on 'business'? Puh-lease!" He laughed in his fathers' face. "Why bother lying? We both know you're going out to bang one of your mistresses. You don't want any of us. And you don't want to be in this house anymore. So do us all a favor; don't come back."_

_Yeryuto looked taken aback for all of two seconds but then he squared his shoulders and bolstered his nerve. Saki was standing on the bottom step of the staircase, so they were eye to eye, on equal ground, so to speak._

_"I will not tolerate that tone from you, young man! Not after everything I have done to bring you into my house and my life in my own good graces-"_

_There was a snort of laughter, Saki apparently unable to hide his amusement at this comment that was so contrary to reality._

_"That's always your fail safe excuse, ain't it? Yer own good graces!" The humor left his face and a cold fury stole dominance in its' wake. "Big fat fucking deal! My Dad worked his guts out for my sister and I until the moment he died! He took us both in, even though I wasn't really his son! Where the Hell were you all that time? Ignoring the fact that I even existed, even though Mom told you that I did! Told you to your damn FACE! Papa took me in… and it wasn't even his responsibility; now that's good grace! You could learn a thing or two from my father!"_

_"I am your father!" Yeryuto closed the space between them and he was so angry that spittle was frothing at the corners of his mouth. "Your stepfather was a gutter crawling, drug taking and dealing, piece of filth, who had no right to be raising children in the depths of depravity into which he had dragged his life!"_

_Saki's delicate features reddened with palpable rage. "Don't you dare talk trash about my Dad! He may have had problems but he was still a better father to me then you have ever been to us!"_

_"I've worked hard to provide the two of you with a good home, with good food and a good education and this is the thanks I get?!"_

_"Oh, break out the freakin' violin! I couldn't give a fuck how goddamn hard you think you've worked! Work? You'd like to think you're doing everyone a favor putting in the long hours at the hospital but the only human lives you care for are the ones that can line your pockets! The only reason you work so 'hard' is so you don't have to come home and face us!" Saki surged forward, jabbing his father forthrightly in the chest. "My Papa may have been dirt poor but he put the hard work in where it was needed; with his family! He might not have been able to give us fancy clothes or weasel us into the snooty schools but at least he took us to a festival every now and again and put his arms around us when we were sad. You can barely look at Kazutaka for a second before you're compelled to look away! So don't give me that bullshit about hard work! What's the sense in trying to support sons that you don't even love?!"_

_Yeryuto appeared to be so angry he could barely string two words together. He drew himself up and out, like a cobra opening its' frill and then seemed to shrink back down into himself, until he seemed unaccountably small. Saki glowered expectantly, awaiting a reaction._

_"I am not going to have this discussion with you right now." Yeryuto finally resolved, turning his eyes, albeit briefly, on Kazutaka. "Goodbye, Kazutaka. I shall call you first thing in the morning." He turned to open the now closed front door but Saki beat him to it. He stood between his father and the escape route that he had been so desperately seeking to use._

_"NO!" The teenager roared, grasping the handle out of his fathers grip and slamming the door back into its' foundations, pressing his back against it. This was more than enough to rouse Kazutaka into entering the room proper, his porcelain like features stricken and confused. "You're not going anywhere in this state. You'll have an accident and I don't want to feel any responsibility for what you do to yourself."_

_Yeryuto took a step back, nostrils flaring. He seemed just about set to shoulder charge his son in a frantic bid to escape this disagreeable conversation. "Move aside, Saki, I will not stand for this much longer!"_

_Saki spread his arms wide, as though he were preparing to embrace his father. Though clearly this was the last thing on his mind._

_"I won't. This will not be another conversation that you just run away from!"_

_A great silence followed, punctuated only slightly by the harried pants falling recklessly from Saki's lips. He had exhausted his already weak body, simply from yelling._

_"You don't want to face up to anything." Saki finally said but now his voice was soft but delicately quavering with underlying tears. His eyes shimmered with unshed sorrow. "And you won't talk… not about Mom dying and what she really meant to you." Yeryuto bit his lip and looked to the side. "And you refuse to look up those stairs and see how sick your wife is or even to accept the reason why she became sick in the first place!" His voice and tone slowly gained momentum, along with the heat of his emotions, clearly contained for so long. "You bury yourself up to your nose in your work because you don't want to be able to see what's happening to your son; the fact that he's only fifteen years old and on the strongest prescribed anti-depressants available at this time and has been since he was ten fucking years old! This house is going to Hell; you're whole family is falling to pieces around you and you…you ignore everything! And you ignored me – BUT YOU ARE NOT GOING TO IGNORE WHAT'S GOING ON ANY LONGER!"_

_"Calm down!" Yeryuto roared back, the visible veins in his temple throbbing but Saki's soft voice was more powerful than his fathers ever would be and he overshadowed it completely._

_"No! The only way you're walking out of here is if you tell me the truth!"_

_"What truth?!" Spit was flying from Yeryuto's lower lip and his face was so red it just might have been on the verge of bursting. "You're not making any sense!"_

_"The truth! Say it!" His face partially collapsed beneath the acute stirring of his emotions. "Say the name that you call me when you think I'm not around to hear it."_

_Yeryuto stared at his son in horror, having not expected to hear these words but Saki didn't relent for a moment, even as tears streamed down his face._

_"Say it."_

_Yeryuto could no longer look his son in the face and his somber blue eyes fell to the floor, as that name, so long forgotten to Kazutaka Muraki fell from his mouth as if it were expired breath, dense of weight._

_"You were sent here into my world to punish me for taking something that wasn't mine to have… so your name is… Pandora…"_

**_- X -_**

_Another night, slowly closes in_

_And it feels so lonely_

_Torching heat freezing on my skin _

_I pretend you still hold me_

_I'm going crazy, I'm losing sleep_

_I'm in too far I'm in way too deep_

_Over you_

_I can't believe you're gone_

_You were the first you'll be the last_

_Wherever you go, I'll be with you_

_Whatever you want, I'll give it to you_

_Whenever you need someone to lay your heart and head upon_

_Remember after the fire after all the rain_

_I will be the flame_

_I will be the flame_

_Watching shadows move across the wall_

_Feels so frightening_

_I want to run to you, I want to call_

_But I've been hit by lightening_

_Just can't stand up for falling apart_

_Can't see through this veil across my heart_

_Over you_

_You'll always be the one_

_You were the first you'll be the last_

_Wherever you go, I'll be with you_

_Whatever you want, I'll give it to you_

_Whenever you need someone to lay your heart and head upon_

_Remember after the fire, after all the rain_

_I will be the flame_

_I will be the flame_

_I'm going crazy I'm losing sleep_

_I'm in too far I'm in way too deep_

_Over you_

_You'll always be the one_

_You were the first you'll be the last_

_Wherever you go, I'll be with you_

_Whatever you want, I'll give it to you_

_Whenever you need someone to lay your heart and head upon_

_Remember after the fire, after all the rain_

_I will be the flame_

_I will be the flame_

"**The Flame" - Cheap Trick**

**- X –**

**Confined by You**

**Muraki**

If you'd asked me a month ago, to tell you the turning point in my relationship with Asato Tsuzuki, I would have said, with implicit honesty, that it had been the night that he gave himself to me for the first time. But even though it's quite true that our sleeping together affirmed the existence of the en shared by us both, I consider now the true turning point to have occurred many months earlier. The twisted scar wrought into the flesh of my abdomen, lasting evidence of this one moment where I had been able to rethread the button, wrongly placed for so long. We might have gone on without sincerity, remaining enemies long into my old age, if not for that moment Asato had assumed that provocative stance and stabbed me. This is why; the real turning point as I have come to understand it, was not the night we made love, or even that inexpressible instant when he had first confessed his feelings for me. Rather, it was that night in Kyoto, when all manner of tidings had turned between us.

By way of explaining why this is so, allow me to divulge a short story to better serve as example.

Oriya's mother, father and younger brother live in the city of Tokyo, not far from where I myself do. At the time of my parents' deaths, our senior staff member (rather, butler, to imitate the Western vernacular) Sakaki was instated as my official Guardian. However, Tayori and Katsuemiyo Mibu had always held me in fond regard and I spent a great deal of my time as a welcome guest in their home. To this end they became, for all intensive purposes, the parents I had hungered for during my childhood. Despite my adolescence being long passed, to this very day I have always been welcomed at their home for special occasions, or even just for drinks and a chat.

Oriya's mother, Katsuemiyo, is in respect to her personality, a kind and patient (not to mention devastatingly beautiful) woman. However, it is his father, I must confess, to whom I am most endeared. Rather, Tayori Mibu is the sort of man who is so appealing and charismatic by nature that only the very narrow-minded could possibly find him to be distasteful. He is a master of several martial arts, teaching classes in Aikido, Suvate and Kendo as his principal profession. In addition, for enjoyment I would imagine, he moonlights as a Kabuki actor in Tokyo's esteemed Kabuki-za theatre. Even I, a man who has not formed relationships from predominately sincere feelings, confess to wholly enjoying his company.

To best describe Tayori in nature, I suppose one might say that he is a down to earth, comedic gentleman, who takes off into every venture in the same manner a firecracker lunges into the sky, guaranteed to erupt in an exciting, entertaining display. Needless to say, he and Oriya take a very different approach to life.

But what I appreciate most about Tayori is his undeniable confidence, which he exudes in such a manner that you could never accuse the man of arrogance. Whenever he and Kenji (Oriya's younger brother) joined a room, you could guarantee that everything would soon become much louder.

The moment I am thinking of occurred perhaps a little over a year ago, when the Mibu's organized a family reunion, to which I had thoughtfully been invited of course. Being Tayori however, just about everyone he met shortly thereafter became family to him, so suffice to say by the time I had arrived the party was in full swing and I barely recognized anyone to whom I was introduced. Then again, I don't suppose Tayori had known them any better than I did.

As the night dragged on and the guests thinned out, the closest-knit family members (for the most part Oriya's mother, father, his two sisters, younger brother, Oriya himself, Ukyou and I as well as some various aunts, uncles, cousins and various clingers on) had adjourned to the tearoom and naturally a drinking game soon got underway. The final round was between Tayori and Kenji, who couldn't hold his alcohol well but was so determined to show off in front of Oriya, whom he greatly admired, that he forced himself to partake beyond venerable constraint. It took only three rounds before he was swaying from side to side, much like a stowaway in the lower gallery of a ship after a rough week at sea. Tayori declared that the loser of this, the final round would have to perform some embarrassing task, which he then decided would be to stroll around the block wearing only their underpants and hopefully avoid arrest. Naturally, Tayori emerged victorious, though this was due in no small part to Kenji, who after neatly executing his shot had developed a tell tale bulge about his eyes and before you could blink was throwing himself backwards into the garden and vomiting spectacularly onto the verandah. (Oriya was not impressed and neither were his maids the morning after, I imagine).

We were all so inebriated ourselves by this stage (it didn't bode well to be sober at a Mibu party, I had long ago realized) that we could do little more than laugh and applaud as poor Oriya awkwardly tried to hurl his younger brother off of the woodwork and into a very large glass of water.

"It's a good thing you didn't lose, Oto-san!" Said Asuoko. "I hardly think any of the neighbors needed to see you strolling down the street in your skivvies!"

"Though I'm sure they're already used to it by now." Ukyou said, not untruthfully, as poor Kenji was propped back up at the table wearing a vacant expression much like a store mannequin.

Tayori dabbed delicately at the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief, seeming well pleased with himself. "That's the reason I proposed such a challenge, you see? I never had any doubt that I would win."

We all laughed, because this was so in Tayori's nature.

"Tayori, really! To say such a thing!" Katsuemiyo gently chided, pushing a steaming cup of coffee into her husbands well calloused hands before taking an identical cup around the table and forcing it upon her violently inebriated son. "No one can pretend that they win all the time."

Tayori adopted an expression of innocent perplexity. "Whilst that may be true for some people I suppose, it isn't true for me."

"Yeah, it's only a true winner that coaxes their son into full blown alcohol poisoning." Oriya scolded, holding the steaming coffee mug up so that his brother could tentatively sip from it. I'm sure Kenji didn't at all mind being taken care of by Oriya, fond of him as he was.

Tayori laughed in his deep booming voice, not seeming the least bit affected by all the saké he had consumed. Then again, he nearly always seemed intoxicated so I suppose it made little difference.

"Now, now! The boy knew full well what he was getting himself into! And really, is it not you whom is truly to blame, 'Ri-chan? If you had not set such a high benchmark, Kenji-kun would hardly have felt the need to impress you so."

"You're a bad man!" Ukyou accused Oriya, which sent the whole room erupting into laughter yet again. Still, I found I was intrigued by Tayori's claim that he could never be defeated, being something of a high achiever myself naturally and I waited until everyone was done laughing and then questioned him as to the secret of his success.

"Ah! I'm so very glad you asked, Katzu-kun!" He declared, which was his nickname for me. "Though I may have to kill you for divulging such sought after information! In the wrong hands, this tactic could very well bring about the end of civilization as we know it!"

"Are you sure you were the geisha and not him?" Asuoko's twin Chiemi asked her mother, to which Katsuemiyo raised her shoulders in an elegant, undetermined gesture. It is true that Tayori was in the habit of dramatizing everything.

Tayori flashed a pretend scowl at his daughter before quickly turning back to me with his infamously warm smile stealing across his features once more.

"In the way of the Samurai," He began, in a purposefully pompous tone of voice. "It is not by brute strength that you can win, nor by strength of the mind or heart. Do not seek to defeat the one whom you are fighting!" He brashly declared, bringing his fist down upon the table as though overcome with emotion. "Seek only to undermine their faith in themselves! A mind troubled by doubt can easily come undone, as can a mind consumed by overconfidence. If you are secure in yourself you have a much greater chance of success. A mind troubled by doubt or clouded by overconfidence cannot focus on the path to triumph. True equality between two individuals engaged in contest exists only when both parties are equally confident." He rested back against the wall behind him with a generous flourish of his palm. "So you see; there is no way that Kenji could have beaten me. He doubted his abilities before we had taken the first sip! The moment a son is able to beat his father is considered to be a moment of great triumph, equaled only in standing by the sons feelings of guilt. Guilt for usurping his fathers' authoritarian position. Both my boys are far too noble to wish to face such a conclusion."

"Bullshit." Oriya coughed and I knew he must have been at least a little tipsy, because he wasn't a man that habitually swore. "Don't get ahead of yourself, old man. I could drink you under the table any day of the week."

Katsuemiyo raised her hands diplomatically. "Now, now… perhaps we should ease back on the drinking a little. We don't need the garden in any more of a mess than it already is."

Tayori leered at her. "You're just saying that because there's no way in Hell you'd ever be able to win a drinking contest against me, poppet."

This was purely a means to provoke Katsuemiyo, who, in her geiko days, often engaged in drinking games in order to entertain her clients. Tayori knew this all too well, for he had once been a client of hers, long before becoming her husband.

Sure enough, Katsuemiyo took the bait, tapping her empty saké cup against the table. "You're on, smart ass. Come Oriya, let's give your Dad a run for his money." Kenji meanwhile, had quietly slipped away to the upstairs bathroom, free to escape his walk of shame for a few days at least. The drinking games continued long into the night, with Tayori the victor in each and every round.

The secret to ever-constant success is to go forth without a doubt in mind. Tayori's words rang most true and have continued to bear meaning in my life ever since. Asato's inability to usurp me for so long was precisely because of his insecurities, his uncertainty. He had never known precisely how and in what manner to deal with me, thus resulting in a tentative and doubtful disposition. Asato is not an individual whom you could competently describe as being either confident or self-assured. Having been tormented as a child, constantly reminded of his differences (or in his own mind, failings) made reaching this point in which he might finally feel content within himself seem impossible.

And having known all of this, how then could I have possibly predicted such an eventuation? When the path to victory had never seemed so clear, why then did the curtain fall vehemently upon the stage to secrete my long sought after conclusion from me?

In Kyoto, those two long months ago, only seconds had remained before everything I had worked towards would be fulfilled. I had allowed myself to rest at ease, confident that the culmination of all my efforts, pains and distended suffering was soon to be rewarded. Seconds; seconds only. They are small and slight. They are fragile. The tide can turn in a second. The winds can sweep across the world. A loved one can die in a second. They are fragile, these moments. But they are powerful. For what a second can encompass can move everything, from the continents, to a mans' broken heart. One second is all it can take to break the resolve of a prisoner, held so long by the shackles of his mistaken beliefs. Yes, they are small and fragile things, these seconds. But in what time it takes to blink, or breathe, or to kiss the person you love, you can be free. The world can change. And so can you.

And it was in these, fragmented, unsteady moments, that destiny had reversed the mantle violently about and thrust control into the undermined hands of Asato Tsuzuki. It was only seconds before both our lives might have soon ended by my hands. Why in these seconds did he choose to fight back? I might never satisfactorily know the answer… after all; I had seen to it that we would both die shortly thereafter. How was that any different to his taking our lives?

Because we were men locked in contest. In that final round, I had been propelled backwards and violently routed, much like poor Kenji one year ago. When Asato stabbed me, it was not just his self inflicted persecution that he railed against but duplicitously, he destroyed the hesitancy within his own spirit, the very thing that had allowed him to go through life, unable to fight back against that maltreatment. As Tayori would have seen it, Asato was able to come to a sound conclusion within his own constitution. My own thoughts however, had been greatly distracted and as a result of this audaciousness only one conclusion was venerable. It was then I witnessed a miraculous change, not only in Asato but within myself also. I knew then, under no circumstances would Asato ever consider me to be untouchable. I had underestimated him and not ever again would I assume that position of invincible authority over him.

I can only surmise from the way that you are shaking your head Oriya that you disagree with my perceptions on this matter. You needn't speak up; for I know very well what you would say in dispute. In fact, if I recall correctly, you have said it many a time and I do suppose you feel that it fell upon deaf ears. Well, you are almost correct!

You believe and not wrongly, that I am a man who has long been hell bent on a journey of self-destruction and that in my underestimating of Asato that night in the basement of Tokyo University, was simply a means to serve my own ultimate desire to demolish my pitiful life. This, my dear friend, is not incorrect either. It is simply a differing take on the same subject matter, neither of which I feel is wrong.

It is true that those many months ago, I saw no future beyond taking revenge against Saki, so there seemed no devastation for Asato to not exist beyond that point. That was the paramount madness of my mind, of course. And if you were to review my progress in those months leading up to that climatic point in Kyoto, there is certainly a great deal of evidence to support Oriya's take on the matter. It seems to me at least, that the disease of my sickened mind had affected my spirit; if such a thing can be said to exist. I'd lost all control over my bouts of cruelty, had regressed into the habits of drinking… even my appearance had been affected, my skin becoming waxy, my remaining eye constantly bloodshot, lips dry and weight shedding from my bones from the constant missing of meals, teeth starting to yellow from too much smoking. I imagine to anyone else, there was no obvious change but then I suppose only the birds nesting in the tree are able to see the termites festering in the trunk and the branches becoming brittle from disease, the leaves turning brown.

I don't think that I had realized it at the time but when Asato had stabbed me in Kyoto, my mind – as dear Tayori would have put it – began to be troubled by doubt. And I only then started to see the world as a very different place from that which I have always understood it. The burning fires of Kyoto had been a nightmare from the foulest pits of Hell but somehow, I had woken from those flames renewed.

You mentioned previously, dear Asato, that your life as you know it, greatly reminded you of Shakespeare's historical work of Hamlet. I, in contrast, feel that the efforts of my existence can best be summarized in the writings of his equally provocative work; The Tempest. Prospero's concluding words in the stories epilogue… well… even if you cannot bring yourselves to understand, I must humbly confess that I do indeed appreciate the similarity. And yes, I suppose, the great irony of it all.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,  
And what strength I have's mine own,  
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,  
I must be here confined by you,

Or sent to Naples. Let me not,  
Since I have my dukedom got  
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell  
In this bare island by your spell;

But release me from my bands  
With the help of your good hands:  
Gentle breath of yours my sails  
Must fill, or else my project fails,

Which was to please. Now I want  
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,  
And my ending is despair,  
Unless I be relieved by prayer,

Which pierces so that it assaults  
Mercy itself and frees all faults.  
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,  
Let your indulgence set me free.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

The sheets needed to be changed and I wished to do it as soon as possible, so that we might dwell in comfort throughout the remainder of the night. Asato grumbled but eventually marched himself over to the couch and curled up by the fire as I set about depositing the soiled sheeting in the laundry chute, paying visit to the hall closet to receive fresh bedding and with Asato's reluctant help, set the bed to rights. It had been a long day for us both and we were venerably exhausted and not only on account of what I can honestly say had been the most satisfying act of lovemaking in my life. Inexperienced though Asato was, I had never felt more comforted, more certain that it was he whom I would grant my existence carelessly. He, whom I had long ago locked my heart away for, in reverence to an ill-gotten hope that I might someday stumble across this angelic man, who by all logic would be either greatly aged or most likely deceased.

But I had found him; he whom my heart loves. That I, who had forsaken such emotion and resigned myself to never experiencing such intangible desires, could love with such sincerity… can this not be called a kind of happiness?

Can this not be called hope?

He slept soundly against the pillows, hands resting with fingers slightly curled upon the pillow beside his elegantly reclined features. I on the other hand found myself unable to slide directly into unconsciousness, despite being exhausted both physically and metaphysically from my altercation with Mr. Tatsumi. Instead, I rested in quiet respite, his delicately masculine hands clutched between my own, my lips touching gently upon them when the urge took me, though not disruptive lest I disturb his slumber. I will not soon forget those moments, feeling the most purely contented I had ever been in my entire life. I felt a kind of peace at last, as a man only can feel when they have found their life partner and secured their love.

My mind and body seemed to swell with this contentment and it was with this gentle feeling, I finally succumbed to sleep. I would have thought, owing to my distinguished level of relaxation, that I might have even enjoyed a dreamless nights rest. However, it would seem that regardless of my beautiful time spent with Asato, there were other issues at hand, which weighed greatly upon my mind.

I dreamt of that encounter, when Saki had confronted our father about sleeping around… It was through this unconscious recollection that his words returned to me… what father had called Saki, when he thought no one was around to hear him.

Pandora…

Sent by Zeus to punish mankind for the theft of fire by Prometheus… Our father saw Saki as being that self-same physical manifestation sent into his life to punish him for his past transgressions. How very clever of him, to put such thought into his accusations… I truly had forgotten this non-de plume and possibly for good reason. Much of that period of my life I had repressed, lest it drive me to a point of insanity, far beyond my capabilities to return from.

But how could I not have clicked when I'd first heard that name? When the boy had introduced himself to us in the theatre two weeks ago?

Could Pandora truly have been Saki Shidou? … No… I didn't want to allow myself to believe it. Not any of it. If his words had been true, then my entire vendetta, all those that had suffered so that I might obtain my goal of revenge, all this… had been in vain.

If I were to admit to that… if I were to believe it… then I would have no choice but to condemn myself, admit that I was not justified at all… and more than that… it would be to admit something from which I had abjectly assured myself could not be true since that terrible incident all those years ago.

It would mean that I was mad. That I had fabricated the rape, Saki's attack on me, his responsibility for my mother's death, our father's death…

It would mean to question my own place in each of those instances and to finally beg the question: Just how long had I been a murderer? Had I killed the innocent long before I was intentionally aware of it?

No… I didn't wish to think of such things on that most glorious night. I forced myself awake from these tortured images with a start, as though moved out of my unconscious state by a potent shunting to the backs of my knees. The digital clock on the bedside table indicated that it was a little after six in the morning. My first shift started at eight, so I had a little over two hours to kill.

I hadn't moved whilst my memories had serenaded the depths of my sleep, so I was a little startled to find my fingers clutched by nothing but the warm air of the heated room. Concerned that Asato had come to his senses and fled from my presence, I sat up straight and gazed down the long line of the bed, hoping to find that he had simply rolled away to the farthest point and only need to be reeled back beneath the sheets. My efforts returned naught for the effort and it was only when I was to the abrupt point of panicking that I noticed the light shining from beneath the ensuite door. I smiled, feeling rather abashed at my almost hysterical reaction. It was only natural that Asato would wish to clean himself up. It had been his first instance of sexual intercourse after all, so he was hardly familiar with the aftermath, not all of which was entirely pleasant, I must confess. Though I was far too tired to wish to instigate anything provocative, I hardly felt a could pass up the opportunity of viewing that exemplary body fresh from the cleansing heat of the shower and so coaxed myself out of bed, pulling on the long since abandoned yukata in which I had begun the evening and making my unobtrusive way over to the bathroom.

As I slid open the door I was immediately greeted by the sight of my adorable lovers naked body, poised with an expression of great introspection, before the bathroom cabinet. He seemed to be examining his back, shoulders and the side of his neck by the light of the mirror and appeared to be, in my opinion, more disturbed than he ought to have been. I wondered what might possibly be the cause for concern. And it didn't seem apparent to me that he'd gone in there with the intention of showering, as I had originally thought.

I cleared my throat gently, so as not to startle him when I spoke. "Are you all right?"

He looked over toward me with his lovely olive shaped eyes and flushed red, still not accustomed to being observed in such an uninhibited condition.

"Oh… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He amended, reaching out towards the shower stand to retrieve his robe. I gently swayed my head from side to side as I crossed the room to assist him. Despite how beautiful he was naked, to encourage him to remain so would only cause further embarrassment and I wasn't feeling quite vigorous as of yet to tease him so.

"It's quite alright." I assured, helping him to slide both arms into the sleeves of the plain yukata, before tying the cord about his waist. He smiled upon me with gratitude and I found myself quite helpless to resist the urge to stroke my fingers about the curve of his chin, my thoughts drifting back to earlier that evening when I had cupped that divine curvature between my lips and laid my tongue into the sensuous nook beneath his lips. "I couldn't blame you for wanting to see yourself… You're so beautiful." I kissed the curve of his chin with purely chaste intent, bringing one arm around to cup his shoulders and bring him to my chest. Asato softly groaned, though not discouraging, cupping his hands about my deltoids, face resting against the crook of my neck.

"That's not why I'm in here." I felt his fingers gently clench the material of my yukata. "I was sleeping… and I had this weird dream."

It would seem that I was not the only one whose rest had been unproductive. "What happened in this 'weird dream?'"

Asato's body rose momentarily as he drew deeply upon the air and his lips made a curious smacking sound, as though he had brought them apart altogether too quickly. "… I was in a dark place… and I saw all these people wandering through the darkness, covered in those red markings." I myself momentarily felt my body stiffen at these words. "You were there… and Watari was there too. …So many people, just wandering in the darkness, branded by their suffering." His fingers wrought ever more tightly into my back. "And she was there too…"

"She?"

I felt foolish, having realized the answer a split second before the name had left his mouth. "Ruka. In the middle of you all, her bones pressed in tight against her flesh. Someone was standing behind her… they lifted her arm up and pointed her finger at me. And…" He held tighter to me and when I lowered my chin to see into his face, his eyes sat wide and glaring, still entangled by those tormented images cruelly forced upon him whence unconsciousness bond him erstwhile. "Everyone turned and looked at me. Right at me! As though they could see me in the waking world! And they all mouthed at me, 'Now you. Now you.' Over and over again, until it became a loud chorus. They all smiled in the darkness… And then this burning pain stabbed through me, sharper than a knife. Right here." He tapped the side of his neck, a direct line down from his left ear. "It hurt so bad I woke up. But the pain was still there. That's why I was looking in the mirror just now, to see whether or not it was just the mark from when you… well, when you bit me or if was something else… but… I don't know. Can you see anything, Muraki?"

Though I dearly wanted to dismiss Asato's dreams as being nothing more tangible than the result of a deeply troubled mind, I found myself run aground by Pandora's words to me that day. How Ukyou had been targeted because I had unintentionally given part of the Shukusatsu to her in the act of sexual intercourse, such as the Aids virus might pass from one person to the other.

Unable to shake this niggling thought, I paid credence to both our concerns and released Asato in order to remove a small torch with a magnifier attachment from the storage cabinet below the sink. Such an instrument was especially useful for removing thorns, as I had discovered many a time throughout my life among the roses of Muraki manor.

I asked that Asato remove the robe, which he did, though not without blushing enough to heat the skin of my own face and raise his arms so that I might check not only his neck but also any part of his body through which the curse markings might have begun their begrudged assimilation.

"Stand very still…" I instructed. I looked over Asato's body, noting only scratch and bite marks from our lovemaking. I checked every possible point from which the marking might be spreading but to my immense relief found nothing to suggest that he had been infected. I voiced this with a deep sigh, placing the magnifier back before once again assisting Asato in the task of redressing.

"Well… I can't see anything." I informed him as I seated himself down upon the closed toilet, gesturing for Asato to perch on my lap, which he did to my great pleasure. "Darling… you're tired." I observed, brushing back his ever-unruly hair. "And you've had an emotionally wearing day. It's only natural that your mind would be acting out. It's a… stress mechanism. Your mind's way of dealing with things. Does your neck still hurt?"

"A little…" He confessed, rubbing his fingers over the accused spot, even as he said it.

My tired mind searched for the most appropriate means of conveying myself to him. "Sometimes… if we sleep on a part of our body at an odd angle, we'll dream up a scenario that might explain what has caused the pain. Then again, there's a good chance the… unfortunate wound I inflicted upon you earlier this day has not healed completely." Just to be absolutely sure, I once more checked the side of Asato's neck, to no avail. "As far as I can tell, there's no marking… you've probably just slept on it wrong."

Asato implored me with his innocently wide eyes, sliding his arms about my neck as he looked down into my no doubt lethargic features. "You think?"

I nodded drowsily, bringing my own arms about Asato's nubile waist. "Yes Asato. I also think that instead of worrying about this, you should be getting some rest." I kissed the hallow of his neck before resting my head against his chest with a deep sigh. "We both should. I have work in a few hours. Unlike you. I assume you're not going back to the Ministry?"

Asato smiled in something of a sheepish manner, eyes momentarily straying to the side as if he were hiding some great secret at bay. "Well…"

I prevented him from going any further forward with his explanation by curtly raising my hand. "Come to think of it, there are quite a number of things which we should discuss before I leave for work. What say I run the bath? That way we can get cleaned up and comfortable all in the one gesture." I gently coaxed him up from my lap and made my way over to run the bath. Asato dithered nervously at my back all the while.

"I'd rather shower!" He eventually declared from somewhere over my shoulder.

"Too late. Water's running." I did not spare the effort required to mask the glee in my voice. I added an aromatic blend I was fond off and then switched the water off at the controls once the tub was full. My immediate task completed, I turned back to the precious creature who was now looking ever so concerned as I made my approach. His hands pressed up against my chest again as I wrapped my fingers into his yukata cord and pulled him close, licking my lips at the vulnerable expression on his eternally youthful face.

"But…" He said, cutting off as I started to hastily untie the cord from about his waist, reaching inside to touch the finely tuned curves of his abdomen. I could have wept at such unintentional perfection. My thumb traced up through the formed muscle, my hand unfolding to stroke a vertical line up his chest and between the mounds of his pectorals. He moaned softly, fingers clenching against the pale skin of my chest. "Muraki… just… just let me bathe. I don't want to do… anything with you right now."

My hand ceased its movements. "You don't want to touch me?"

Asato lowered his head, seemingly unable to make eye contact with me. His own hand came up to touch my fingers as they protruded through the cut of his yukata.

"So bad…" He whispered more to himself then to me. I suppose he was referring to the desire to touch me. "I… really don't mind… really. … But, I don't want to…" His cheeks flushed at his boldness. "… make love right now."

"Who said anything about making love?" I exclaimed, feigning surprise. "You can draw a line between touching and making love you know. Come now, why are we standing around here getting dirtier by the second? Help me undress you, you fool and we can be warm and comfortable together very soon."

He still appeared uncertain but he too couldn't see the harm in bathing together now that I had insinuated that I would not attempt sexual intercourse with him again. "All right…" He said in a very mistrustful manner, relaxing his fingers against mine but fastening a rather disconcerting pout on his face. "But no funny business, you hear?"

No funny business… "Why Asato, you certainly have some strange ideas in your head tonight." I chirped, soothing the halves of his yukata apart, allowing the smooth fabric to slide down off of his shoulders and collapse about his feet. He blushed, this time in frustration and went to scold me when I placed a kiss against his enticing mouth, smothering whatever invective he'd been prepared to hurl at me. His eyes widened as I moved my lips softly against his, releasing him after I'd run my tongue tantalizingly slowly across his own, plucking at the very tip of the pink, wet muscle with the tip.

I kissed him again, as his hands went to work removing my own constricting garment. His face was as red as a beet, fingers fluttering hesitantly at my upper arms like physically impaired butterflies as he pulled the yukata down, baring my chest to the cold night air. I couldn't read his thoughts but I could read his body language. It sang out to me loud and clear.

I tried to entice him to relax, placing fluttery velvet kisses against his cheek and coursing them down the length of his neck, pausing at his evident collarbone. I closed my eyes and breathed into his honeyed skin.

"I was foolish to think I wouldn't long for you once I'd had you," I told him, sucking the muscular arch of his neck until I'd left a mark. Asato's breathing escalated as he released his hold on my yukata, dropping it to the floor where it rested cool against the backs of my heels. My arms free, I was now able to course my hand down the long arches of his upper body, finally coming to a recess over his perfectly cut navel. "I've dreamed of this place, this moment with you since the day I found your picture as a little boy. Everything I did," I roved my hand up along his neck, inhaling the scent of his hair, caressing his scalp with my cheek, unable to sate myself as much as I desired. "Every step I took, since that day, was to bring you to me."

Asato's entire body was trembling as I cupped my mouth around his jugular and sucked firmly. I could feel the blood coursing underneath his darkened skin. One of his hands slapped against my back, nails drawing harsh scratches along my roaring flesh like fishhooks as my fingers traced the line of his spine. His face flared and I admit that I was finding it ever increasingly more difficult to reign in my hormones when this divine creature was standing before me with that innocent look in his eyes and so delightfully naked. I reluctantly separated my lips from his flesh, managing to smile as I distributed a gentle swat to his backside. This of course, only caused him to blush perceptively darker. "Go on. Climb into the water. I shall join you shortly."

Asato nodded clumsily and made his way over to the spa, trying to do so as modestly as possible. The sight of his round, smooth buttocks drove me feverish but I had little choice then to forcefully reign myself in. I returned to the bedroom, bringing in Asato's pajamas and a box of matches so that I could light the candles and incense sticks I always burned whilst taking a bath. Asato had his back to me, as I conducted this task, one leg gingerly slung over the porcelain side of the tub, tentatively toeing the surface of the water. I turned off the harsh overhead lights and placed the matches on the mantel, allowing myself a brief reprieve to enjoy the endearing view presented to me before resigning myself to proceeding further. Asato jumped when I came up behind him and tucked my arm down under his thighs and bottom.

"Allow me," I amended, ignoring his slight squeak of protest as I raised him over the edge of the tub and lowered him gently beneath the surface of the hot water. I didn't bother with the traditional scrubbing of my body before entering the bath and simply immersed myself alongside the body of my beloved. He eyed me cautiously but there was a longing in his expression that I had seen many times that night. A longing that he had never before permitted me to witness. A desire… and love. Whatever love might be, it was there in his eyes and his eyes were locked on me.

I plucked the sponge out of the side carriage and lowered it into the water, squeezing out the excess liquid that accumulated within the pores.

"Shall I wash you?" I asked. His fingers grasped about my own, squeezing the sponge beneath my grip.

"No…" He whispered, his voice breathless. "Give me the sponge…"

I could have slid myself against him and pushed inside of his body, so inviting was that tone. But instead, I simply nodded and turned about, trusting this man enough to do so and leaned my head against my crossed arms, resting on the tubs porcelain border. I moaned softly when I felt the soap and sponge come into contact with my aching flesh, Asato's delicately tremulous hands soothing the deep musculature aches I'd acquired during the day, tenderly cleaning the scratches. We remained this way for some time, the somnolent pattern eventually terminated by the touch of Asato's hand making its' hesitant way about my body, gliding betrayingly down towards my abdomen. I felt my internal temperature momentarily pitch but his fingers fell short of where I would have preferred them, instead caressing the ragged scar tissue that he himself had inflicted upon me.

"I'm sorry I hurt you so badly…" He whispered to my ear. To hear such a thing from him, you must understand that it was so utterly wrong and entirely in his character. Nothing that had occurred had been his fault but he still felt accountable for what he had done to prevent my plan of insanity going forward.

I smiled, shaking my head a little as I lowered my own fingers into the warm water, pressing his palm tighter against that beloved wound.

"You don't need to apologize to me. You don't need to apologize to _anyone. _Truly… your act of retaliation against me in Kyoto was the best thing that could have happened. If I believed in God, I would convey my gratitude to him every day on account of this thing having occurred. If it had not, I would not have known this happiness here with you now."

His chin slid up over my shoulders, his lips lightly touching the corner of my mouth. "Mura-" He uncomfortably cleared his throat. "Kazutaka… I know you probably don't wish to talk of such matters… in fact, I'm sure you feel that it is rather a mood killer… but I'm sincerely concerned."

I turned about in the water, gently clasping his hand in my own, caressing my thumb along the bridge between his index finger and thumb. "Ask and we shall see then, shan't we?"

His features flushed slightly and I saw a corner of his bottom lip caught between his teeth in an anxious gesture. "Please, don't be angry with me."

This time I couldn't help but smile. "Since when have you ever been concerned with making me angry?" Then I thought of my violent attack upon him that day and understood all too well that his apprehension was well founded. "Darling, I promise not to be angry with you. What is troubling you?"

He hesitated, fingers stroking down the lines of my throat as though attempting to calm me before ever even voicing the possible offence. "Today when you were speaking with Tatsumi and Hisoka…" I scoffed a little because to say that we had been 'speaking' made our confrontation seem lighter than it actually was. "… you said that you'd depended on me… then you mentioned your mother and you got this look on your face… you should have seen it! As though something had occurred to you, long forgotten." He went very red and lowered his eyes, as if to offer me some show of remorse. "I'm sorry to bring it up! It's so selfish of me! But I can't just ignore it! I care about you… it wouldn't be right for me to say that I love you and just ignore those things that obviously hurt you. You understand?"

I nodded, secretly touched by his thoughtfulness. "Yes of course. And it's a fine thing of you to ask." But difficult to answer as I myself had not fully come to terms with it. I caressed the curve of my chin, contemplating how best to adequately phrase myself. "My mother… was a foreign woman, the daughter of an esteemed Romanian family."

Asato's eyes seemed to light up. "Ah! So that's why your hair and complexion are so fair! You _are _a halfie, after all!"

I nodded good-naturedly and chuckled. "Yes, Asato. I thought that it was fairly safe to assume my heritage was not entirely Japanese." I gave his hair a little ruffle, expressing my fondness of him. "But my mother's family had a great many secrets. A curse inherited along the direct family line, for one." I rested my cheek upon my curled fist, eye line directed to the side. "Many millennia ago, they formed a bond with the Harvest Moon, that they would be granted great prosperity and long-lasting life in return for blood sacrifice. Whenever the moon would turn to blood, it would mean the Spirits of the Moon were calling for the sacrifice and those whom had established that bond were forever required to obey. As time went on however, my mothers ancestors believed they no longer needed to be held accountable to the promises made by those before them and rescinded on their vow. That is when the spirits cursed them and all their bloodline. They became the _Moroi _or _Moroaică_; vampires whom can only exist by drawing metaphysical energy from the living, bound perpetually in their bloodthirsty acts to the moon."

"This is the first time I've heard of such a thing," Asato mused, not seeming entirely convinced. I shrugged, not needing him to believe my words if he had already found it in his means to forgive me my despicable acts.

"It should explain to you why the moon turns red whenever I have acted 'unfavorably' towards someone. This pledge happened centuries ago, of course. In Romania, so I doubt you _would _have knowledge of such things. If you like, there are books on the subject I could show you. But that is hardly my point. It is simply a means to allow you to understand. Now, Saki… my elder brother… he despised my mother. He never led me to believe anything other. And my mother she… she was ill, to say the least. According to my father's notes, she had developed into the advanced stages of terminal brain cancer by the time I was in my adolescence. Whether this was in fact the truth, I cannot be sure. Being a _Moroaică _perhaps it is feasible that her sense was decaying… as is often the case with vampires whose DNA is predominately human. If a _Moroaică _does not obey the blood summons, it cannot live." I pressed the tip of my finger down into my lower lip, depressing it towards the dip of my chin. "A brain tumor would have been more convenient… what else could my father possibly tell the concerned public? Not that his wife was a supernatural being, no… Whatever the case, whether it was a brain tumor or the decay of her remaining human senses, my mother gradually became something less then that she had been in all the time I'd known her. She acted in ways she otherwise may not have. She was like… a samurai, whom had lost sight of who her enemies were and drew her sword simply to slash at random, without thought to the consequence. I was the only one whom she wished to see… all the time. She would plead my father to bring me to her side. But…" I could feel my true eye well slightly, for these were confronting memories that I had not truly begun to process, having repressed them for so long. "She never saw me… as a human being. I was nothing to her… but a possession. One of her many dolls… a doll she favored true but my eyes may very well have _both_ been glass, so far as she was concerned…"

**XxXxXxXxXx**

_Come to me… Kazutaka…_

… _Good boy… you're so adorable…_

**Mother… …Where's Veronica?**

_Your silver hair, like moonlight on the frost…_

_Your eyes… like moonlit pools…_

_And your skin, white and delicate as a china doll. Ah…_

**Where's Veronica, Nutcracker? Where did you put her, Mother? … You didn't…**

…**Throw Veronica away, did you?**

**_You're the prize of my collection… Kazutaka…_**

**XxXxXxXxXx**

I managed to continue speaking, even as those nightmarish images continued to flood through my mind, more powerful then my ability to restrain them.

"Because I was a doll… if I became damaged in some way, it was her responsibility to… repair me. I remember once falling down from the stairway here in the manor and cutting open my arm. I tried to get to Father before Mother saw… but she heard it from one of the servants and came to get me. She became hysterical whenever my 'perfection' as she saw it, was marred in some way. So she always did anything to put me to rights… She took a thread and a sewing needle… and stitched the cut together. The pain was terrible… no pain killers, no anesthetic… I was a doll, you understand? A doll feels no pain…"

Asato's eyes shimmered with the full extremity of his emotions. "Oh Kazutaka…" His fingers gently cupped my cheek, to provide sympathy but I instinctively shrugged them off by turning my face away. This was one matter for which compassion was not appropriate.

"Those memories I could live with… for the most part. It was what she did that no one ever knew about. Her mind had completely dissolved by the time Saki came to stay with us but Father refused to acknowledge just how sick she was and would not see her institutionalized. I too defended her, despite how cruel she was to me. Father's denial was so great, that he wouldn't allow for a stronger prescribed medication and instead brought in outside medicines, made on the side I suppose. But Saki…" I lowered my head, admittedly feeling rather ashamed for having reacted as I had that day on the Cliffside, the argument that saw to Oriya's terrible accident. "He was worried about me… he knew what Mother was doing to me. Not just in how she saw me, the repairing but…" My sight fractured, I felt I might actually cry and ashamedly not for the first time that day. I forced the tears back but Asato had been watching me carefully and seen them before I'd had the chance to deny their existence. His arms came up around my neck and he whispered soothing words to me, making it all the more difficult to not feel sorry for myself. For this dreaded, personal thing that had been done to me, within that very house in which I continued to live. "But… she…"

His finger fell against my lips and he looked upon me with such fierce adoration I felt my fragile emotions tremble to the point I was very nearly overcome. "Was it that she… abused you? Her own child…?"

Her hands sliding into secretive places…

I could no longer prevent that tear from stealing down my face and Asato held me in a protective embrace as I thoroughly bit my lip in an effort to hold my emotions at bay. "My mind must have been so sick, even then… I knew very well that the 'secret games' she played with me weren't natural, that they made me feel awful and ache inside but I still somehow wanted to protect her."

Asato shook his head. "That's not so strange. She was your mother after all. But it wasn't your job to protect her. She should have been protecting you! She was your Mother, for gods sake!" He looked fiercely into my eyes. "Your father should have protected you both! Why did he go on, allowing such a thing to happen?!"

I felt suddenly exhausted and brought my hand up to caress my forehead, feeling the lines indicative of my age dig against my fingertips. "You're right, of course. But my father was far too busy protecting his own image and pretending such things were not happening to see what was going on under his very nose. Saki was… the only one who seemed to care about me. In fact, I thought perhaps he killed them not because of what they had done to him but for what they'd done to me. He worked a part-time job and used his money to continue renewing a stronger prescription for Mother in secret, hoping it would still her moods against me. But I was so deeply entrenched in denial, I couldn't even admit to myself or to anyone that what he was doing was so thoughtful… so kind. I just hated that he knew… he got between my Mother and I once and took me away, redressed me, told me that just because Muraki manor was closed off from the world didn't mean what was happening to me was normal. Just because she was my Mother… it didn't mean I should tolerate this abominable thing. From then on, he always took care of me… but I…" I knew my face was now wet from tears and Asato was tenderly kissing them away but I could barely acknowledge anything but this sudden apparent truth I'd locked away from myself for so long. "… I resented him for it. For being so much stronger than I… for… having such morals… I was so envious of him. I wanted to be him. But… if I couldn't be like him… I wanted a reason not to be so jealous of him." I brought my hand to my mouth, feeling greatly terrified by what thoughts I'd just put into consideration. I was more than frightened to imagine just how much I was capable of. "Even if that meant to turn him into an enemy… someone I could somehow be better than. Rise above… Everyone liked him. He was so popular… he was Oriya's best friend, you know… I was second choice… even Ukyou was with Saki long before she considered me as a lover. I was just his replacement… but still, I was the good brother… he was the one who went bad and cold-bloodedly slaughtered my family."

Asato looked up at me, beseeching. "You don't believe Saki murdered them at all, do you?"

I shook my head, feeling a tremendous grudge that had long sustained me rise from my shoulders as gratifying and terrifying as any personal revelation can be. "I don't know. I believe he despised them but only on account of me. He never seemed to hold any personal grudge for himself… he was such a soft and tender spirit. Someone I loved and hated in equal measure. But he only ever felt compassion towards me. If he did kill them, I believe he did because he believed that in doing so, I would be free from them. My mother especially, whom not even my father could love. I was born simply from her desire to have his child. That she loved him, I don't doubt… but he could not love the woman she became. A monstrous thing…"

**XxXxXxXxX**

_"Why do you keep Kazutaka from me?! I hate you! Give him back to me! Don't you dare pretend he means something to you, when I had to beg you for him in the first place! He's mine! He is the only one who loves me! The only one!"_

_My mother stormed from the room and I remained hidden behind the partition, as my father had instructed. But when I heard his quiet sobbing, I couldn't keep myself from leaning around the door to see whatever was the matter. My composed father, a stately man in all respects knelt on the floor, fingers massaging his bruised neck, no doubt where my mother's hands had been viciously clenched only moments earlier. Tears streamed down his face, his lips drawn back from his bared teeth._

_"Oh God Terumi!" He howled, for this had been my mother's name. "You really are dead! What will I do?!" He went face first onto the carpet, sobbing hysterically into his arms. "My darling Terumi…"_

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Asato placed his arms about me, using his hand to bring my face into the crook of his shoulder. He hushed soothing words into my ear, fingers stroking through my hair as a means to placate these unfamiliar emotions stirring inside of me.

"Thankyou for telling me. I'm sorry to have brought up such bad memories."

I wrapped my arms about him, pushing my lips against his collarbone, eyes closing. "You have only done so out of concern and compassion for me, which is more than I have ever done for you. Besides… it is time that I come to terms with my memories, or I shall never be able to move on with my life."

When I opened my eyes to look upon this generous man to whom I was eternally endeared, I was astonished to see the miserable little drawl into which his lips had formed. Though I hadn't though it possible, the admission of my past seemed to have caused him more pain than it had me.

"I'm so sorry…" He whispered, clenching even tighter a hold of me. "You must have been so afraid… and alone. And to be contracted to this terrible curse… and this is completely separate from the Shukusatsu, which only makes it worse!" Tears rolled down from his eyes and onto the skin of my chest. "I know you hate it… but I feel so sorry for you. I wish I could have done something to save you."

"You don't need to say that." I said, running my fingers through his hair, knowing full well that he had already saved me, though he may not have known it. "Let's speak of other things before the dawn takes hold and neither of us have slept."

Asato nodded, slowly turning around so that he could rest back into my arms. He took my hands in his and proceeded to play with my fingers, sliding his own between the gaps and touching the tips together.

"How did you lose your eye?!" He suddenly blurted out and I groaned, having set my hopes on a topic removed from those matters I considered rather uncomfortable. Asato noticed my disapproval and quickly backpedaled. "I'm sorry! You don't need to answer that! It was just… the first thing I thought of saying and-"

"No, it's all right." I said, pressing my fingers over his mouth as a means to cease his babbling. "I'd rather answer it now and sate your curiosity. I lost it when I was twenty-three, shortly after I'd claimed my first intentional victim." I looked away as I spoke of this, feeling unusually ashamed. "She had been one of Oriya's women… a geiko I mean. Oriya was… unappreciative, as you can imagine. He hadn't yet learned of my transgressions, though I do know he suspected such things might have come of me… Anyway; he took out my right eye without even touching it."

Asato blinked at me curiously, his fingers reaching up to gently caress the scar tissue surrounding my eye socket. "What do you mean… 'without touching it?'" He made a conjecture. "You mean he used a sword or some other weapon?"

I shook my head. "No, not exactly. Oriya has… a rather unusual constitution. His mothers' side of the family is what you would call… exceptional. A strong spiritual sense, phenomenally acute reflexes… Oriya's abilities are, to my knowledge, the most attune of all his siblings and stronger even than his mothers. He seems to… how can I best explain this…?" I directed my eyes towards the ceiling, lips pursed thoughtfully. "The world, as he puts it, is composed entirely from filaments or 'strings' that pass through everything. Millions of minute threads that cannot be seen or touched by anyone other than those with his 'perception'. When Oriya desired to take my eye for having robbed his geisha of her life, he-" I raised my hand to demonstrate, curling my fingers in towards my palm to form a loose fist. "- clasped the strings that connected to my eye and simply yanked them." I jerked my fist in against my chest, as though pulling an object to me. "The scarring about my eye, if you notice, is formed into a series of lines. This is where, of course, the threads cut through me as the eye was yanked from my socket." I dropped my hand back atop Asato's hair, applying gentle pressure to his scalp. "As you might understand, I no longer blight Oriya if I can help it. He protects me because of our long history but I am not foolish enough to believe that I can get away with offending him again. Oriya doesn't take kindly to those that harm the people he cares for. Then again… he had more than one reason to be angry with me."

Asato's eyes lingered gently on mine. "Yes. You did mention he had come to expect such things of you… What did you mean?"

I stroked my fingers down the side of Asato's beautiful face, lingering about his firm lower lip. "Asato… did you ever pause to wonder how I came across my trans-material powers?"

He blinked long lashes, gazing about as though the answer might have been scrawled about the lip of the bathtub. "Well… you did mention you were able to acquire mana from your victims and convert it to your own."

I nodded. "Very true. A Moroi you understand possesses no natural magical abilities of its' own. As most living things have a stomach, a Moroi has two; that which absorbs material food of course and the other, which is of the… immaterial persuasion. Are you following me?"

Asato murmured an indication. "Mmm-hmm. Right. So one stomach needs to be fed with mana is what you're saying. And if you don't feed it…"

"You would see the same sort of thing that happened to my mother… a slow starvation and eventual deterioration of the senses. This immaterial stomach is of course not of the physical persuasion… it wouldn't show up on an x-ray. It's rather like a vacant imperceptible compartment. By the time a Moroi hits puberty, this receptacle requires nourishing in order to maintain the bodies constitution. My mother… was unable to explain this to me in her condition and my father, well, what business of his was it anyway? All I knew was how awful I felt… how helpless and miserable. I had a craving for something… something I couldn't determine. But I longed for it, like an addict longs for a needle! What a cruel thing… It continued for so long… long after my Mother and Father had both left this world for the next.

When I was fifteen and he was sixteen, Oriya had a terrible accident. Saki and I were both involved… you might even say we were inadvertently responsible. Saki, Oriya and I had been on a mountain path in the Amakusa region, on the way to visit a certain shrine. Saki and I got into a fight and Oriya… Oriya he tried to stop us." I lowered my face again, feeling great remorse sweep over me, unavoidable, unstoppable. "We were so angry… we had no idea how close we'd gotten to the side of the cliff. How reckless we were being… we… both of us, tried to push Oriya away, lashing out you see… no idea who were hitting. But we did push him. We were so close… he fell… He fell down the cliff Asato."

Asato's eyes shimmered in the sparse candlelight but he didn't look on me with contempt or condemnation but continue to listen quietly and respectfully without comment. God, how I adored him for that undeserved sensitivity.

"It didn't seem real and yet nothing else I have ever encountered has ever seemed so real. He rolled most of the way but his leg and hip broke and his back as well when he finally hit the bottom. He was so far down, neither of us could get to him and when we finally got help it took them four hours to reach him. He was paralyzed and in such pain. He couldn't move." Something occurred to me and I met Asato's eyes briefly and fiercely. "Oriya… I always make fun… everyone makes fun because he's a strong, grown man but he's phobic when it comes to insects. Spiders especially. I always took it to be a sanitary factor, managing a restaurant… but down on that cliff floor, being unable to move… they went about their business and he was already in such trauma, such fear and pain… When the paramedics eventually retrieved him, all I can really recall is Saki and I pulling bugs off of him, out of his hair, his ears, his mouth and nose… I never considered how that must have affected him."

"How awful for him… I can understand completely. Bugs are gross even when they're not touching you." Asato massaged the side of my neck thoughtfully. "Still, I'm not sure I understand quite where you're going with this, Kazutaka."

"You will in a moment. I realize I am straying from the point but… these things… I have never spoken of them to anyone other than Ukyou. But then, Oriya is her cousin so…"

Asato jerked upward, his eyes awning deliberately wide. "Whoa, wait just a minute! I didn't know your fiancée was Oriya's cousin!"

"Former fiancée and she still is Oriya's cousin. On his mother's side. Her particular constitution… it hasn't exactly manifested itself in a beneficial manner, such as Oriya's has. Rather, she seems always to have been rather weak and ill of health… I've tried various medicines and methods but… I apologize. I'm straying again."

"It's all right. I don't mind listening to you talk. This way, I get to learn something about you."

I smiled, gently placing my lips to Asato's temple. "Thankyou, my darling. Now as I mentioned, Oriya was incapacitated and whilst he was in hospital, my entire family was killed and I was orphaned. He suffered greatly on his part because he was Saki's best friend and my very good friend also. He was torn up and despised being unable to move, having to depend on everyone around him for assistance and help. I went to visit him in the hospital shortly after all the funeral rights concluded, feeling worse than I had ever been. Emotions were high… we talked for hours but he was on such a number of painkillers, he would just sort of doze off in the middle of conversations. It was while he slept that I found myself catching a scent in the air… the scent of blood and the inexplicable faculty that came with it. Oriya's was particularly poignant. In fact, next to yours, I would have to say Oriya has the most satisfying taste…" Asato gazed at me, unable to hide the quavering expression on his features this time. "I was not and still am not proud of what I did that one day. I used to go to the hospital as much as I could, just to get the scent off of him. It was a sort of peace for a little while, just being in the presence of all that power. But like most men, eventually I could no longer stand for observing. Having his flesh stand as the barrier between that power and I… I soon grew resentful of him, as though he were teasing me intentionally. I ached for a means through which I might bridge that fissure. And that is when my teeth first lowered and I became fully aware of what I was. I'd seen my own mothers eye teeth run out when she came to me in the dark… but I'd never understood why. Now I did. Lust… energy hunger. They are the means through which acquisition of that essential energy can be achieved. Oriya was sleeping and that scent coming off of him was so strong… I was starving and I wanted to eat… my body was in pain from that insatiable thirst. His own pain became inconsequential when compared to how desperately my body screamed for him… I looked at Oriya as though he were no longer human."

"What you did to me today… in Ukyou's home…" Asato whispered, his lips trembling slightly. "You did that to Oriya. When he was paralyzed and couldn't move. You crawled on top of him like one of those awful bugs and drank from him and he couldn't do a thing to stop you."

I gave him a long, hard look, refusing to let him hate me for this thing I had done so long ago, when I'd been a child and hadn't known better. "Do not forget Asato, that I was only a confused adolescent. This thing I did tore me apart for the longest time. Oriya almost didn't recover. I very nearly drained him, my hunger was so great. His blood… tasted so good. So unbelievably good. Like that first gulp of water when for so long you've gone thirsty. And from him, I realized how then I might utilize this power for my own means. Not only could it sustain my life but it made me stronger. A part of Oriya came with that… it always does. I was able to grow into a strong man because I'd learnt how to sup off of others." I brought my hand against my face, chuckling bitterly at how foolish a man I had been. "Oriya… when I attempted to explain myself to him, he, gentle soul he can be, held no ill-will. Just as he held no ill will towards Saki and I for our part in his terrible accident. But oh, I believe there was some measure of contempt there, burrowing away inside of him as a pearl forms in the belly of an oyster. That irritation becomes hard and cold and heavy… I do suspect that when Oriya took my eye, it was not just a means to avenge the death of his girl but an excuse to avenge himself as well. 'An eye for an eye.'"

I felt my hand being slowly pulled from my face and then Asato's own beautiful eyes were coming closer, his lips softly touching to my own. I deepened the kiss as much as I was permitted, cupping the side of his face to further engage the intimacy between us.

"Thankyou, for telling me these sad, terrible things." He said, after we'd broken the kiss and settled comfortably down against one another. "When I meet Oriya for myself, I'll be sure not to piss him off." He gazed sidelong, chewing the corner of his mouth endearingly. "Gawd… bet Watari's got his work cut out for him."

I laughed appreciatively, running my hands down Asato's water speckled shoulder, watching goosebumps break out across his flesh. "What else, if anything, would you like to know about, my darling? Now that we have started, why not lay the cards upon the table?"

He considered this for a moment, mouth set in a wry smile at my cards reference.

"… How long can I stay here with you?" He finally asked and I sighed, grateful that we had been able to move past those troublesome topics.

"As long as you need to, darling. It is of no consequence to me."

He glanced up at me, seeming to be surprised. "You don't mind me being here?"

"Mind?" I chuckled. "I feel as though something so fortunate couldn't possibly have happened to me." I kissed the side of his head; only wishing there was a better means to express just how much his presence here meant to me. "You can stay for as long as you like. However… I get the distinct impression that the Ministry isn't as pleased about this arrangement as I am. Just what should we be expecting?"

"I'm glad you said 'we'." Asato confessed with a guilty smile. He gripped one of my hands between his own and rubbed his thumbs into the center of my palm. It was such a loving gesture… I felt very at peace within myself. "A Guardian of Death… is contracted to the Summons section until such time as they are granted reprieve. And this can mean anything really… I never actually said out loud that I didn't plan to return to the Ministry. So far, my only real offence is that I… interfered with the course of justice, aided in the escape of a convicted criminal… and broke a window." He chuckled softly as I reached over to the wall compartment and retrieved one of the few cigarettes I kept on hand there, lighting it with one of the neighboring candles. I'd been craving a smoke since the conclusion of our love making a few hours earlier. "When I don't turn up for work tomorrow, Enma will question the other Shinigami in my section. He might send them here, where they know I'll be. I'll be questioned, reprimanded… given a warning. If I refuse to comply with this precaution, then I'll receive a Court summons."

"And what does that entail?" I asked, drawing the smoke back into my lungs and feeling my entire body relax on account of it. I tugged one of my many ashtrays closer and set it in easy arms reach. Asato started twirling it about with his spare hand, eyes focused on the curlicue pattern of the glass.

"… It would require that I front up in the Hades Court and present my case." He explained in response to my previous question.

"What if you refuse to attend?"

He pressed a finger to his chin as a means to be thoughtful, I suppose. "Then the reanimation seal upon my body will be revoked and I'll revert to a corpse."

I admit to having choked on my nicotine intake at this juncture. "And… this can be done from a distance?"

"No." He established, reaching up to extract the cigarette from between my fingers. I thought he meant to extinguish it but this did not seem to be his intent. "We have to be in direct contact with Enma, who reanimates our bodies in the first place. I've heard he just sets his hand upon the individual and draws out the sustenance." He shrugged, waving his hand and my cigarette about listlessly. "Enma would employ the Security Division to come get me and they're a pretty uncompromising bunch. To say the least! I'd be better off just presenting my case and hope that my long service and loyalty to his majesty is taken into account and works in my favor." He gazed at the cigarette thoughtfully before then bringing it to his lips and drawing back deeply. A second later, he violently regurgitated the offending smoke in a violently spasmodic coughing fit and I could do little more than laugh, remembering all too well my very first attempts made at smoking.

"It's not a good idea to draw it right back unless you're used to it, darling." I advised, taking the cigarette back off of him before he hurt himself.

"Those things are gonna turn me green." Asato chided, coughing and slapping his chest in an effort to dispel the offending tar. I for one could not see what he was complaining about. He was dead after all, so to turn green should be by all rights considered normal!

"I hate to say, Asato, that I don't feel confident in your reaching a positive outcome. Regardless of your loyalty and the duration of 'time spent served'." I smiled at this small pun, taking another deep breath from the cigarette before resting my temple against the bridge of that hand, gazing down upon Asato in thoughtful reflection.

"Well, what other choice do I have? My only other option is going on the run. And that would mean uprooting your entire life here." He seemed to realized how presumptuous this might have sounded and predictably blushed. "I mean… if you meant to stay with me, that is…"

I waved my cigarette-laden hand about, as if to suggest his words were nonsense, which of course they were. "After all this trouble, you think I would have it any other way?"

"Then it's imperative that I don't uproot you, especially now when you have to stay close to Ukyou." He gave pause, looking briefly downward before making eye contact again with such startling acuity I found myself reeling momentarily. "That reminds me… did you check the guest wing for Okiko Haruhi?" He suddenly glanced about the bathroom with such trepidation I suppose he was expecting the dark gentleman to come sashaying out from the shower stall at any moment.

I smiled, rubbing the small of his back as some means to placate his not unfounded fears. "He wasn't even on the ledger, so he was obviously lying about being a lodger in the first place." I paused, giving consideration to the state in which the manor had been when I'd arrived back during the evening. "On an unrelated note; you Shinigami certainly have no qualms about making yourselves at home. You left quite a mess for the servants to clean up."

Asato laughed in that endearing fashion of the abashed, one hand slung behind his head and brows creased slightly. "Sorry about that." He amended, taking back the cigarette as though determined to become a fully-fledged smoker before the evening was out. I certainly had no desire to stop him, should this be his wish. I was no ones parent thank goodness. "So you couldn't find him?"

"Wherever he is right now, I feel confident that it's not in the manor." I assured him, combing my fingers distractedly through Asato's damp black hair, allowing the strands to course across my fingers. He nodded thoughtfully having not yet brought the cigarette to his lips, so preoccupied were his thoughts.

"I'll put up an additional barrier tomorrow. That should let us know if anyone we don't like enters the compound from any direction."

"I already have one in place." I said, smiling at his suddenly blank features.

" … Oh…" He said, puffing on the cigarette and then handing it back to me with a rather put upon expression, as though I was not living up to my side of this conversation. I chuckled as I took the burning cylinder back off of him.

"I'm sorry. Did I burst your bubble?"

He grumbled, chin thrust out in much the manner of a sulking child but eventually laughed to show that he wasn't at all serious. "A little." He continued to smile as I pressed my mouth softly against his, unable to resist that adorable display. "Anyway, I don't want to worry about the consequences right now. I just want to be with you."

I hadn't thought it possible for my smile to extend any further than it already had but if anything, I could feel the warmth flood into my features at his charming words. "I never thought I would see the day." I kissed him again, momentarily losing myself in the sensation and reverting back to my old habits. "Mr. Tsuzuki…"

He laughed, swatting me gently on the side of the face. "You've got to get out of the habit of calling me that."

I swatted him back, enjoying the playful nature of it. "Only if you get out of the habit of calling me Muraki."

"But Kazutaka is so long!" He whined, sinking his face against my chest and pretending to pound it with his fists as though throwing a childish temper tantrum. "Can I just call you Kazu for short?"

I pulled a face. "Kazu sounds so childish…"

Asato flashed me a look that suggested I was being anything but helpful. "Well, what am I supposed to call you for short? I can't very well call you 'Aki'… that was my exes name!"

I admit I felt rather confronted by this, though I'm not sure why. Being ninety-seven it was of course only natural for Asato to have had other partners besides me. Still, I do have a tendency to be possessive… in putting it lightly. "You had an ex?" I queried, almost too casually.

"Give me some credit!" He snapped, slapping the back of his palm against my pectoral. "I'm almost a century old! I've got more than one. But as you can tell, I didn't sleep with any of them." He must have translated the expression on my face because with a smile he turned over and pressed his hands and chest against my upper torso. "So there's no need to be jealous." He chuckled as he kissed me again, I in turn gripping his upper arms to pull him a little more securely against me. When our lips had parted and he was reclining comfortably against me once more, it came to mind the old nickname that Saki had once referred to me by.

"Well… I suppose you could call me 'Zuta." I said, curling my lip to demonstrate my distaste for this honorific also. Still, it was worlds better than 'Kazu', which sounded to me rather feminine.

"'Zuta?" Asato murmured, his left hand brow rising momentarily.

"That was the name Saki used to call me in High school. It caught on because of that…" I confess that it was a relief Oriya never got into the habit, though he never had been much for nicknames.

Asato smiled as he rested his cheek against my chest. "Thanks. But I think I'm still gonna call you Kazu whether you like it or not. If I pronounce it the Osakan way it doesn't sound quite so childlike."

"The 'Osakan' way?" I asked skeptically.

He gazed upward, waving his finger about as though it would better aid in his explanation. "Kah-zu, rather than Ka-zu. Kah-zu… Kah – zu… Kama-Kah-zu… pilot." He twisted his hand about so that it was vertical and then whooshed it around in the air before then making a crashing sound and sending his hand splashing down spectacularly into the water. "KA-BOOM!" He exclaimed, saluting as he hummed a bouncy funeral march. I could only smile and quirk my brow to indicate that he was perhaps behaving just a little strangely.

" … Sorry." He amended, with an endearingly sheepish smile.

I brought my cigarette to my lips again and inhaled steadily before handing it back to him. "… Just… call me what you like. I don't mind." Something had ensnared my attention as Asato appropriated the cigarette and I brought my hair out of my eyes so that I might better confirm my thoughts. "I don't know if you've noticed when you were looking in the mirror, darling. But… your eyes…"

"Mmm…? What about them?" He mumbled from around the cigarette.

I retrieved a small handheld vanity from the soap rack and held it out so that he might see for himself. Asato held the cigarette steady between his teeth, as he flipped the compacts lid and examined his eyes to find, just as I had, that his once spherical pupils were now horizontally slanted, much as my remaining eye was.

"Oh my… I wonder what that means?" He said, seeming contrarily calm. I had expected his reaction to be more severe somehow.

"Who can say?" I muttered, reaching out to bring Asato close to my body again. "Listen… uh… I'll probably already have left for work by the time you wake up. You can do whatever you wish. This is your home now. Sakaki will be here and he'll attend to whatever you need whenever I'm not around. You'll not be left wanting while you're here."

"Perhaps it's because I've awakened my true nature…" Asato whispered as he closed the compacts window, eyes straying to the far wall.

"Excuse me?" I said, having not quite heard him in that instance.

"I mean… um…" He obviously didn't consider it worth repeating and so didn't bother to do so. He placed the mirror aside, before drawing back on the cigarette and then returning it to between my own lips. "You'll make me feel like a kept man."

I smiled. "That was my intention."

"Any rules of the house?"

I gave this some thought, taking my beloveds particular unruly constitution into account. They would not for example have been the same ground rules I would lay down for Oriya or Ukyou. "… Don't trash the place. Any wine you want to drink please don't go further back then the year 1999. Clean up after yourself if you do not make a mess. No wild parties while I'm not here. Be comfortable. That's all."

He considered this for a moment before nodding deeply in a thoroughly serious and contemplative manner. "Sounds fair." He grinned to show that he was agreeable before resting back against me and blushing a little. I did not need to read minds to realize we were finally broaching that topic of which I had most been eagerly anticipating discussing. "Um… about… before…"

I didn't tease him, figuring this would be uncomfortable enough to discuss without my adding to it. "Mmm-hmm…?"

His fingers laced through mine again but he didn't make eye contact, still remaining perpetually shy despite our passionate exchange having obliterated all barriers between us, so far as I was concerned. "I know I'm… not very experienced. But I'll… I'll get better with some… practice."

I could have moaned at the thought but rather I chuckled at his charming concern, for he seemed to feel that he had displeased me in some way, which was far from the truth. "Darling, you can gain more skills through practice but you couldn't get any better then you already are." I extinguished the cigarette before then lifting his chin in order to kiss those divine lips, though I'm certain this only increased his bashfulness. "You're wonderful. And the fact that you are inexperienced in these matters only makes you all the more beautiful." I momentarily brushed my mouth against his forehead, overcome by my extreme feelings of fondness towards him, an emotion I have spared for precious few in my life.

"You could tell I don't know much." Asato whispered, still blushing without fail.

I smiled, running my knuckles down his arm to the effect that goosebumps soon begun to spread up and down his flesh.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"… A little sore… I don't think my healing ability is quite on par at the moment." He ran his fingers across the healing wound on my cheek, and then traced his nail down the one upon my brow. "Will I be sore for long?"

"… Possibly for the next twenty-four hours… at the most, two or three days." I pressed my thumb into his palm, gently massaging the pressure point there. "I know you'll find it strange but it has been so long since I myself have been submissive in a sexual relationship, I have no way of recalling just how long it might take before you start to feel comfortable. I do apologize for that."

Asato was silent for a while, playing with my hands but looking away, seeming to be distracted. "It's a shame you've got work tomorrow…"

I looked down at him, understanding his intentions but questioning them all the same. "You want to do it again?"

His response was to blush of course.

"Even when you're feeling sore?"

He pressed a kiss experimentally against the wall of my chest. "Yeah… I wanna try something different. But you need your sleep."

I was already climbing out of the tub.

"I can sleep when I'm dead." I declared, pulling him out behind me so quickly I believe the water was perhaps shucked free of his body. We set about rubbing ourselves dry, before heading back into the bedroom. It was last moment but I remembered Asato's pajamas and brought them back in as well, in case he should feel the cold during the night, though I did doubt this for some reason. "I know a little something we could try."

Asato looked at me anticipatory and I coaxed him towards the bed, pushing his shoulders back gently against the sheets and gently settling atop him, so that we might warm into this gradually.

"You're… so much more gentle then I ever imagined you'd be…" Asato murmured, his eyes twining shut as I moved my lips about his neck and collarbone.

I couldn't resist teasing him, so adorable that he was. "Oh… so you imagined this often, is what you mean to say?"

"Muraki…" He growled though clenched teeth and I laughed to see it. Conscious of the fact that his body still ached, I weaved my lips down across his chest, raising his leg by the knee so that I might languish my mouth and tongue upon the delicate curvature.

"You're so beautiful…" I whispered, continuing to kiss that one spot, allowing my spare hand to caress the center of his palm as he rested it by his side along the sheets. I traced my fingers gently across those scars, eyes closed as a means to fully appreciate the taste and scent of him. Asato's breathing came shallow and gentle, I don't think he expected for me to take any sort of decisive action anytime soon. Feeling in the mood to shock him a little, I trailed my fingers down along the length of his sculptured thigh, keeping my lips focused on that one delectable spot upon his knee and slyly touched my fingernail to his swollen rectum, tracing the ring muscle only lightly so as to create a mild tickling sensation. He gasped, predictably and his body arched a little before settling back down, though he squirmed as though to suggest he didn't much like my teasing him.

"This is different from what you've already done?" He said, his voice a breathy susurration I found undeniably sensuous. I wove my finger in gently to further engage his attention and sure enough a small moan slid out from between his lips as I plucked the sensitive flesh, pinching the folds between my index finger and thumb.

"Part your thighs for me, darling."

Though his hue did indeed darken from a fresh attack of embarrassment, Asato obeyed with a small nod and gradually separated his legs until I was able to get an unobstructed view of his entrance, still red and engorged. I thought about this next act, something I had often dreamed about performing on this innocent man and could only wet my lips in anticipation. As I lowered my face to nuzzle into place between his svelte thighs, Asato seemed to then click to my attentions and he sat up so suddenly I had very little choice but to bring myself up in order to meet him.

"W-wait a minute!" He bumbled; clenching the bedsheets between knuckles bleached white from his anxiety. "Are… are you… really gonna… … you know…?"

I smiled as means of response.

Asato's eyes widened to the point they might nearly have burst from their sockets. "But… but that… it… it's not sanitary, is it?!"

Still bearing that unshakeable smile, I moved closer to him, allowing our noses to touch and our lips to brush from my every spoken word.

"After that brazen display you put on tonight, you mean to tell me that something of this nature interests you not?"

His blush had spread down onto his neck and up towards his temples. He bit his lip, eyes averted from my own. "Mura… Kazutaka… you must understand… though I don't seem like an old man to you, the truth is that I was born almost a century ago. Times were different back then… to even think of being with a man was to invite scorn and ridicule!" He bowed his head, suggesting he was ashamed of himself for speaking so candidly. "It's not that I don't enjoy being with you… but you gotta understand that I still have my reservations because of the time in which I was born. I apologize…" He opened his eyes and I could see them shimmering in the darkness, though he wouldn't meet my gaze. "To say such things to you, a man who has done everything he desires without any qualms whatsoever."

Soured by his self-condemnation, I nonetheless persisted, sliding the lines of my fingers beneath his chin and raising his eyes, insisting that he look at me. Even then his eye line rested somewhere on the vicinity of my collarbone, which I didn't much care for.

"Forgive me, Asato. I foolishly believed you were here because you sincerely wished to cast aside such reservations and place your trust in me." This shocked him, as I'd hoped and his jade colored eyes flashed furiously upward to meet my own. I chuckled, satisfied and ran my hand down along the side of his face, in order to cup his neck. "Now, now… I only meant to chide you a little, so that you might grant me the courtesy of your full attention. Now that I have it, what I truly wish to say is that you will no longer pay credence to such old-fashioned drivel whilst you are in my bed."

His brows axed down furiously, to the result that his entire face was creased from anger. "Let's get something straight; being with you the once doesn't give you rights to my body!"

I feathered my eyes shut, leaning about so that my mouth was aligned with his ear. "Asato… there is no reason to be angry with me in this instance. I only mean for you to enjoy yourself. And believe me, you will enjoy this."

He continued to look skeptical but rather than try and convince him with my words, I chose instead to show him. He whimpered a little, as I eased him back into the comforting arch of the pillows, clutching at my shoulders as if he meant to secure himself to reality.

"Kazuta…"

"Shhh…" I soothed him, resting the pad of my index finger upon his lips before then sliding it across and between the pale pink arches. "Trust me once more, Asato. I will not hurt you."

I lowered my head and caught one of his erect copper nipples between my teeth, rolling the tip of my tongue across the peaked surface before laboriously sucking and kissing it. Asato's spine arched dramatically, his fingers tangling through my hair in order to encourage my continued attentions. I started to lick my way down his body, planting a lingering kiss on the trail of hair above his stiffening penis before sliding my tongue along that delicious length, marveling at the salty tang that lingered upon my tongue.

"Kazuta…" He moaned again, seeming to have settled upon this middle bridge for his nickname of me. Asato's knees arched, his hands urging me to dip my head even further and partake of the delectable main course, secreted between velvety globes of flesh. "I want… I want…"

I brought my eye line up, in order to gaze into his tortured features and smiled mischievously, knowing that I was well teasing him and greatly enjoying it. "What do you want, Asato? Tell me… and I will bring everything that you desire to you on bended knee."

He bit his lip as he gazed upon me sidelong, unable to ask but desperately seeking. And though he could not insist upon it, I nonetheless waited for the spoken permission, my desire urgently requiring this verbal validation.

Asato briefly squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed deeply and with a shiver managed to refocus on me. I cannot imagine for the life of me why such mental fortitude was required to approve of this pleasurable act forthwith but it would seem as though it was!

"I want to feel it…" He whispered and though I would have preferred for him to be more direct, it would do for the time being. He was still rather inexperienced and so I desired to take things with him at a slower rate than perhaps I would a more worldly person. If luck continued to favor us, perhaps we would have years in which to work on such matters.

I captured Asato's hips and held him still, urging his thighs apart by my voice alone and favored his beautifully swollen aperture with rapt attentions. His eyes eased shut as I lowered my face between the divine arches of his upper legs. I stopped my lips just a hairs breadth from his pucker, allowing him pause in order to reconsider, should that be his wish.

No words did he speak.

"This shall not be one of those matters of which you will regret," I assured him, before then sliding my saliva slickened tongue deeply inside of that luscious orifice, dabbing gently at his inner sanctum. Asato hissed lightly from between his teeth and then, almost immediately eased back, hands clutching the pillow behind his head as his hips began to lackadaisically move in time with my lapping tongue.

"Muraki…" He groaned, slipping back into his old patterns as his former inhibitions were shattered. A shudder raced through his body and he curled his spine in order to follow it, seemingly all the way down to his toes. "Oh god… it feels so good…"

I was far too preoccupied to say, 'I told you so' but I'm fairly certain he knows what I would have said anyway. By gently curling the tip of my tongue I was better able to manipulate the nerve endings within, drawing out almost completely in order to trace the outside ring before thrusting it back within. I instigated a pattern replicating a coital act, moving in and out, using my lips when able, to the result that Asato was soon reduced to a desperate panting mess, toes curling almost entirely in on themselves.

"Ha… ah…It… God…" I glanced up to see his head arch back, eyes squeezed shut with a single teardrop leaking from the corners of each. "It shouldn't… feel this… good…"

This sensual sight made my own erect penis ache and leak with need, so I dropped my hand down to momentarily appease it as my tongue continued its teasing, languid work. By this time, daylight was not far away and I would soon need to consider getting to work. Loath though I was to rush through any act of this nature with my beloved, it seemed in this instance I did not have much choice.

Asato's sweet whimper as I drew my tongue from his delicious slit was heavenly, though I did not allow myself to fall victim to it. I drew myself up my innocent lovers body, planting a short kiss upon those slightly parted lips before moving to lie beside him, taking his left hand between my right, urging him to roll over. He however did not appear to catch my meaning and stared back at me, clearly confused.

I chuckled, gently tugging his fingers again. "Daft fool that you are. Climb on top of me."

Asato blushed and I got the impression he was embarrassed to perform such an act, as it would place him fully in display with no sheet to cover his nakedness. For a moment, I expected him to shake his head and violently protest, so I was surprised when he instead obeyed, turning over to perch upon his knees and gazing down at me, assessing how best to go about it, I suppose.

"Just… put my leg over your waist?" He asked, brushing his bangs aside as they swayed distractedly into his eyes. I smiled gently, pushing aside the sheet so that it would not obstruct his movements.

"That's right. Place your left knee here," I patted the sheets beside my right hip. "Keep your right on the other side."

He looked sideways and swallowed so deeply I could see his Adams apple rise and fall even in the darkness. "Won't it… hurt terribly to do this with my… being sore and everything?"

I was confused. "Asato… I am only asking for you to seat yourself upon my pelvis. Why should that hurt?" And then of course it clicked. He had assumed that I intended for him to slide down directly onto my erection. I shook my head quickly, to assure him that this was not the case. "Oh no, I didn't mean for us to progress so quickly! No, just place your bottom here and relax. That sort of thing might come much later, when you have had more experience."

Smiling, seeming to feel embarrassed about his misconception, Asato gingerly placed his hands upon my abdomen and used this as leverage to bring his leg over my waist, resting his buttocks atop my pelvis. I moaned softly, my erection pushed down at the base by Asato's weight, rubbing against his perineum as I shifted in order to improve my own comfort.

"Is… this all right?" Asato asked, his tongue squeezed from the corner of his mouth in much the manner a stem pokes from the top of a pumpkin. I smiled at him, lowering my hand to pinch the dark head of his erection between my thumb and index finger, knowing that his eyes followed my movements and his penis thickened even more on account of it.

"You tell me…" I purred, dabbing the tip of my finger into the wet slit before then nursing it between my thumb as I continuously caressed that sweet spot, first in circles and then up and down. Asato released a heated breath from deep within his lungs, fragmented like bullets from an automatic weapon.

"Mnnhhnnn…" He hissed, having pinched his tongue tightly between his teeth to keep from screaming aloud. This irritated me, for I did not wish for him to impede his passion on account of who else might witness it and speculate. All the live in staff were in the guest wing of the mansion, far removed from the Main house. No one was about to hear. I released Asato's erection and slid my hands along his lower back, encouraging him to lean over, our chests symmetrically aligned as his lower arms sunk into the sheets on either side of my head, supporting his weight. I raised my lips to nip that sliver of pink tongue protruding so enticingly outwards and Asato gasped, withdrawing it so quickly it seemed to possess a life of its' own.

"Don't be afraid to voice your desires, Asato." I said, gently stroking my fingers up and down the length of his lean back. "You and I are the only ones within this entire house, my love. There is no one to hear you but I. And I most assuredly, long to sample the palatable sonnet of your passions."

Asato's breathing came rapid, hot and heavy as he dipped his head to indicate that he understood. He pressed his dainty lips to the carotid artery in my neck, tongue gliding out to trace that vulnerable rise of flesh.

"The things you do to me…" He groaned, gasping in such a way that caused chills to wrack my spine as I nibbled and sucked the lobe of his ear, fingers toying at one of his nipples until it puckered into a hard pebble. "Kazutaka…"

With the hand that still remained upon his back, I trailed my fingers slowly down, teasingly downward, to eventually clutch the lowest curve of Asato's pert backside; that delicious swelling between thigh and buttock. He cried out, almost deliberately loudly in order to appease me I should think, as the joints of my fingers caressed this arch of muscle, head tilting back so at the same time I could sup and devour the flesh of his neck with my lips and tongue.

"Yes…" He moaned heatedly, raising his backside upward in order to encourage my attentions down towards his scrotum. But I had no intention of progressing any further, instead sliding my fingers between the crack of his buttocks to thumb and probe that still wet fissure. "Mmmm… mmm…" Asato's nose and mouth nuzzled against my shoulder, his hands moving inward to rest entirely upon my torso, which I had no objections to, of course. "Fill me up… stretch me…"

Though I had already sufficiently oiled him with my tongue, I felt it probably wasn't going to be enough what with his rectum still swollen from our initial session. I raised my fingers back to my face and then, thinking better of it, slid my middle and index finger against Asato's lips, gently requesting entry. I murmured approvingly as he parted his teeth to allow them inside, tongue hungrily slurping and sucking, without my even needing to ask. When I thought that he was handling this well, I then added the third finger, which he accepted just as easily and soon all three digits were more than prepared for penetration. I lowered them again to press between his buttocks and kissed Asato to distract him as I pushed that first finger inside of him, probing deep to rub against the mass of nerves from the prostate gland. A jilting 'Ha-AH!' told me that my aim had been right on the money and my middle finger soon joined its companion. Asato started to rhythmically move his hips, greedy in his desire for all things that afforded him pleasure. I used my spare hand to steady him by clutching his backside, slipping in my third finger and thrusting harder and faster, in so hoping to attenuate him. My beautiful lover was sitting pushing back against my hold, his perineum continuing to graze across my heated penis, driving splintering desire into my senses. This torture surely could not last another moment!

"Kazutaka… Hah…!" Asato's eyes achingly slid open, revealing a tear soaked streak of purple between passion-laden lids. "F-fuh-fuck me…"

I gently removed my fingers, diving them into the bedside drawer to retrieve the lubricant, using it to hastily prepare myself, pushing aside Asato's fingers as he lowered them to assist. No… after those provocative words I had no time to waste. I wanted to be inside of him with greater haste than I possessed!

When I was more than adequately oiled enough to enter him, I pushed Asato backward so that he was once again sitting vertically from my pelvis, gazing down at me expectantly. He started to raise himself, positioned so that he might lower his anus directly onto the head of my erection but I kept him from doing so by pressing gently down upon his shoulder.

"You wished to try something different, did you not?" I smiled at him, feeling my fangs run out to their full length and penetrate into my lower lip. A single drop of blood rolled down my chin and snapped free to fall through space. "Bring your right knee over so that you are kneeling beside me."

He was confused but again to my surprise simply did as was told, moving off of me in order to sit by my side, quietly awaiting my next order. I smiled, patting my abdomen to direct his attentions.

"Now, I ask that you mount my waist once more. Only do so with your back facing towards me, once you are settled."

He blinked, seeming to not have absorbed a word of this. "You… want me to…"

"Kneel as before, only this time you will face the opposite direction." I explained again, raising my hand to gently caress the curve of his chin. "It is called the 'reverse cowboy' position. And I hear that it is supposed to be outstanding for both parties."

Asato sighed, pressing a kiss into the palm of my hand before releasing it and proceeding then to sling his left leg over my abdomen. This, I'll admit, afforded me an outstanding view and my lower arms started to shake as I reached out to clutch either side of Asato's narrow hips, holding him in position. I waited until he was settled, seeming somewhat perplexed in my having instigated such a position.

"I'm to stare at the fireplace as we do this…?" He conjectured and though I smiled at his comment, I didn't bother to answer. Soon there would be no need for words. I shifted about, raising my knees and spreading them apart just enough for Asato to be able to rest his chest against. His hands clasped my knees, fingernails slightly digging in.

"Are you ready?" I softly asked and the tensing of his various muscles informed me before his murmured verification that he was indeed awaiting me. Anxious with my portent desire to encase myself in him, I grasped my erection firmly and urged Asato to raise himself just enough for me to insert my penis into his tenderly tight orifice. We moaned in sensuous symphony, Asato visibly wincing as I penetrated deeper and deeper into his wet warmth, stretching out muscles that had only just started to relax, pushing in far enough to stir anticipatory nerves, filling that exquisite nadir to breaking point and feeling his sumptuous tightness all about me in return.

"Are you all right?" I murmured, holding myself steady so as not to cause him further discomfort. Asato whimpered softly and I reached out both hands on either side of his body, urging him to slip his fingers through mine and use the pressure of our palms to keep his balance.

"A-aching…" He finally said, sounding as though he were ashamed to be experiencing pain. His fingers clenched about my hands so tightly they left red marks against my skin. "Feels… good though. With… you underneath me…" He smiled shyly over his shoulder, cheeks characteristically red. I could only find myself further aroused by this charming display and had to force myself to remain stationary for the time being.

"Let me know when you are ready and then I will move again."

Asato softly murmured, his fingers squeezing my hand. "I'm okay… you can move."

I smiled as I raised my hips, pushing up and deeper into the sweltering passage of his body.

"Kazuta…aahhh…" Asato cried, head tilting back and his spine arching sharply to accommodate for me. "Yes… aahhh…"

"Move with me," I told him, distributing a second thrust to the curves of his buttocks, coaxing Asato to drop himself down to meet my thrusts. The pleasure of his body… how stalwartly that sweltering fissure gripped the hank of my desire! The aching tip of my erection stroked across that sweet place, causing Asato to cry out and tip his head back, raising his body to drop aggressively down upon me, engorging himself repeatedly. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, all my inhibitions shattered in bearing witness to my lovers' enthusiasm. To actually see him hunger for this sexual rapture… to hear him moan like a whore… there was no possible means for me to continue holding myself back.

And so, I increased the pace of my hips, drastically thrashing up into that taut little puncture to the effect that Asato was raised high into the air, before responding by shunting his hips down hard enough to drive my backside forcefully into the sheets. He was whimpering intermittently between the odd bursts of passionate exclaim, so I can't imagine the experience was entirely pain free. This would come later, when his body had grown more accustomed to the process of sexual intercourse. From my angle, I was able to observe his pert backside tightening with every movement of his hips, a sight I found to be extremely erotic. Even the way his petite toes curled upward, in coordination with the movements of my penis inside of him. The palms of our hands were sticky and slick with sweat and Asato almost lost his balance more than once because we were unable to effectively keep a hold of one another. There must have been quite a great deal of blood because the air had taken on that familiar coppery scent, which only stroked the fever inside of me to greater intensity. Poor Asato… the lining of his rectum had been torn.

I released his hands momentarily in order to pull myself upright. Asato gasped as my erection pressed even deeper inside of him, his hands reaching back to desperately stroke across my waist, fingers clasping at the loose folds of flesh above my hips.

"So good…" He panted, trembling lips searching for my own and fixing sloppily against them. "Hah… keep… keep going…"

"Darling, you're bleeding…" I said, wrapping my arms about his chest, rubbing his navel with my thumb, soothing the curves of his abdomen. "We went too fast… forgive me…"

Asato seemed confused, lust congested eyes blinking torpidly at me. "I don't… please… keep going… don't stop now… so good…"

His tongue dipped down over his lower lip and then moved across to lightly trace the outline of my own. I caught the delicious pink morsel between my teeth and brought it into my own mouth, sucking on it vigorously before renewing my onslaught against Asato's seeping slit.

"Harder…" He moaned into my mouth. I dropped my hands from about his body, tucking them beneath his knees and using this leverage to briefly relieve his body of my invading presence. Asato whined pleasingly when he registered just how empty he suddenly was and glared at me over his shoulder, as if to reprimand me for having such cheek. I ran a soothing hand down his neck, feeling my eye teeth scrape against my raw lower lip as I smiled at him.

"Turn around…" I said, helping him to adjust himself until he was able to perch in my lap, both arms cupped about my shoulders and face resting against the side of my neck. His legs curled up on either side of my chest, feet dangling across my lower back. As I pushed myself back inside of him, the entire weight of his body aided in bearing him downward. Asato softly gasped, with such charming dissonance and lightly kissed the side of my face, fingers reaching up to tangle in the sweat tangled strands of hair running down the back of my neck.

"Kazutaka…" He whispered and as he moved, I felt the whole world dissolve in this primitive dance of passion conducted between our bodies, chests heaving, sweet pooling in the gap between our abdomens and mouths darting here and there, quashing against skin, lips, tongues, teeth, noses, necks, eyes… anywhere. Everywhere. What did it matter? I could feel Asato's body start to tremble as I fished one lithe hand down between us and proceeded to stroke and tease his twitching erection. The Shinigami panted, tongue feverishly licking at my neck as he moved in perfect coordination with the rough, uninhibited pace I set, surrendering to the richness of it. And when he came, his left leg stretched up so high and straight that for a brief moment it actually perched atop my shoulder. I kissed his ankle lovingly, continuing to milk the remaining semen from my beautiful lovers progressively softening penis, licking my fingers once I was sure there was nothing further to attain. Asato looked upon me with sleep deprived eyes, hair a tousled mess and then to my greatest pleasure, squeezed the muscles in his anus as tightly as I supposed he could, bouncing himself up, down and around to bring my own belayed orgasm ripping through my lower extremeties, seeing from the corner of my eye Asato bare his neck to me, fingers stroking down the blue conduits of veins to urge me forward. Lights danced before my eyes, the scent of blood permeating the air increasing my desire twofold, so that I thought it difficult to resist even should Asato have not offered himself to me. Still, touched and deeply flattered by his selflessness, I placed my mouth upon his slender neck as gently as I could whilst still experiencing the deep throes of orgasm, easing my distended eye teeth down through the skin and filling my mouth with the slightly bitter but even more appetizing flavor of my lovers life juices. I wouldn't risk taking too much from him, on account of how great an amount he'd already lost that day. But it was so difficult… especially when he tasted so incontestably piquant.

"Kazutaka…" He moaned and I could feel him quite literally pushing his buttocks down hard against my lap, filling himself to the brim with those juices I offered in place of the delectable crimson liquid that dribbled down into my throat, stirring each and every nerve within my body. The angry beast that had so long dwelt in the cavernous hole of my chest retreated deeper still, just as the deformed beast Caliban, sought sanctuary in the darkest refuge, taking with it those blackened thoughts and long expired ambitions of a life lived otherwise.

Having effectively tired one another out, Asato and I lowered our heaving bodies gently to the sheets, having been careful not to make a mess of them this time. I held the smaller frame of my lover scooped in against the line of my chest as we both calmed down, stroking his damp hair and waistline tenderly. I glanced towards the bedside table, so that I could see what time it was.

"I'll have to start getting ready soon," I informed him, pleased by the small moan of disappointment Asato emitted at having to hear this.

"Oh God… it's still so early… why you gotta go so early? Stay with me and… hold me…"

"I have to go…" I whispered. And yet, it was so hard to do. I tried to find a reason to remain a little longer, my hand caressing down the damp line of Asato's spine as I weighed up my options. "Asato… it may seem trivial but… I would like for you to start taking vitamins of a morning. Would you mind?"

Asato's eyes slowly fluttered open and he raised his brow, to express just how odd and ill timed my question had been.

"That's your idea of pillow talk?" He said, swatting playfully at my upper arm. "God, it's no wonder you're thirty-one and still single."

I tapped the back of my hand against his forehead, far more gently than he had struck me and crinkled my nose just enough to indicate that I wasn't impressed by his comment.

"Remarks like that will get you a bed on a soggy mattress under a railroad bridge," I threatened, unable to mask a smile as Asato exclaimed in exaggerated horror and shielded himself beneath the sheets. I ducked my own head under in order to continue our conversation. "The reason I bring it up, is because if our transactions during love-making are to become a regular occurrence, you may find yourself feeling rather anemic. Your healing ability is not coping as efficiently as it may once have. Vitamins will help nourish your body in the meantime."

Asato gazed at me with wide eyes beneath the blankets, looking much like a drowsy animal peeping out from a warm, winters nook. "Can you not just bite me at the end? Or isn't it as good without the biting?"

I considered this earnestly because with the majority of my previous lovers, I had never resorted to biting, on account that it would have created more problems than it was worth.

"Making love with you my darling is exemplary, with or without the biting." This seemed to me the safest road to travel and I could tell from the expression on Asato's face that it had been the right thing to say. "Piercing your flesh… it is part and parcel with the climax for me. Refraining from it does not by any means take away what you are I share."

Asato considered this for a moment before shuffling closer, resting his hand upon my arm and tenderly caressing it. "But… it's more enjoyable for you if you do bite me." He pressed a finger against my lips as I quickly raced to protest. "It's okay! I don't need you to flatter me by being dishonest. Just tell me the truth. I want to make you happy as much as I'm sure you want to see me satisfied. It's only fair."

I found this to be a very considerate, not to mention generous proffer and I expressed this by bringing his palm into my own and massaging my thumb into the sensitive pressure points of his hand.

"If I am to be honest … Yes, yes it does increase the pleasure for me. But this shouldn't by any means suggest that it is a fundamental concern, Asato. Truly… that I, above so many more deserving, have been granted this great honor in being with you, for your first time…" I smiled, bringing the backs of his fingers to my lips. "Would I be so greedy as to possibly desire more?"

These were sincere words, spoken with a wholehearted clemency I was not accustomed to casually exhibiting. In lieu of this naked honesty, I had at the very least expected some sort of response, even if it was only my lovers' characteristic cheek flushing. In so admitting, naturally it came as something of a surprise when after the expiration of a good half minute, there came nothing, not even the slightest granule of acknowledgment. I opened my eyes and drew them down, fully intending to berate Asato for his blatant lassitude, when I found myself confronted with the very vocal cause to his indolence.

After such a day, in which battles had been fought, blood had been spilt, friendships had been fractured and passionate love had been made, could I really have blamed him for finally succumbing to exhaustion? I was in fact, surprised that he had lasted so long.

I wasn't offended at this timing. On the contrary; the fact that he felt secure enough to fall asleep in my presence, said worlds about how far we had come in such a short space of time. I could only chuckle softly to myself, running my fingers up through his hair and gently pressing a kiss against his forehead.

"I'll see you tonight." I murmured, placing one final touch of my lips to either cheek before reluctantly forcing my weary, sleep deprived body out of bed and away from my lovers warm, accommodating arms. He mumbled slightly in complaint, clenching his hand atop the blankets I had only just occupied, before rolling over with a groggy utterance, tugging the sheets in tight around him and settling in for a good kip. I went quietly about my business, sponging myself clean, applying deodorant, shaving my face and getting dressed, all the while marveling at this, the most fortuitous turn of circumstances.

He's mine now… I have the end of his Lead. Now, he'll be safe from others, no one will pursue him with such vigor as once they may have.

He loves me… that much is certain. I finally have that power I so desperately crave. He came to me of his own free will. He gave himself to me. And he knows me… more than anyone. I have told him things about my past that no one has before heard, not even myself.

Now, at long last, my life can begin anew.

Let your indulgence set me free…

I left the bathroom, dressed for the days events and gathered together the assortment of files and paperwork I would need, packing them neatly into my briefcase before appropriating my keys from the hook beside the door. I glanced back towards the bed one last time, taking in Asato's slumbering features so that I might reflect on our time spent together during the day and with a small smile caressing my features, turned to make my way into the early dawn.

"Kazutaka…?"

I turned slowly back towards Asato's reclining figure. His eyes were closed and for all intents and purposes, he still appeared to be asleep, though I was certain he had called for me.

"What is it, my darling?"

His eyes seemed to drag open, as though great weights were bearing down upon them. I could see only the smallest sliver of those beloved amethyst pearls gazing out at me but this minute crescent spoke a thousand words in a silence too profound for speech.

"I'll take care of you." He whispered, eyelashes fluttering tellingly from exhaustion. "I'll be your ally, even if I can never be forgiven for it." He smiled sweetly at me, one hand reaching up to sleepily rub his eyes. "Just the two of us, against the world if that's what it comes down to."

I could only stare for what felt like hours, questioning as to whether or not these words had actually been intended for me, undeserving whelp as I was. Still, there was no deceit in Asato's eyes. There never was. He had not a fraudulent bone in his entire beautiful body.

I placed my briefcase down beside the door and made my way back over to the bed, leaning over to brush Asato's unruly hair out of the way, so that I could kiss his forehead, nose and lips, one after the other. His eyes fell shut again, his voice distending the softest of utterances at my attentions.

"Thankyou." I whispered, resting my chin against his hair for just long enough to sate my adoration. "I love you."

"I love you too." It pleased me to no end that he was able to say it without even thinking about it. It meant so much more, when it came naturally. "I promise I'll have a vitamin with my breakfast."

I smiled, gently pinching his cheek so that I wouldn't disturb him too greatly but just hard enough to let him know I hadn't missed his provocation. "Well forgive me for caring."

He giggled as I returned to my briefcase, picking it up and hovering in the doorway, still hesitant about leaving. In the past twenty-four hours, so much had happened… I felt I could have used another day off. Still, the fact remained that Ukyou required my attentions and though we were no longer engaged; it was quite true that I still loved her. These thoughts, most of all, cemented my resolve to continue forward and so I pushed onward, casting one last loving expression to my favored Shinigami before stepping out into the darkened hall, ushering Sakaki away, who had been steamrolling purposefully towards the bedroom with a laden breakfast tray in his hands.

"I realize my schedule is a little off this morning, Sakaki." I avowed, issuing him back towards the kitchen so that he would not proceed into the bedroom and disturb Asato. "I'll pick something up on my way to work. The gentleman I was with last night requires some time to rest up. I'm afraid he's not feeling one hundred percent at the moment. When he does eventually emerge, would you be so kind as to tend to him? I think it would be best if we uh… avoid allowing him any lenience's in the kitchen."

Sakaki smiled indulgently, his light luxuriant moustache tilting upward expressively at each corner. They hadn't long been acquainted but I could tell that Sakaki had a rather high opinion of Asato, simply perhaps for the fact that I was far more contented than I had been in a long time. "Very well, young Master, I'll see to it that he is well looked after. You have a fine day at work."

A fine day indeed. No day could have started on a more positive note! I found myself thinking, as, with an indulgent smile, I left Muraki manor with a light feeling in my chest as Caliban himself must have felt when stepping from the dark recess of his hovel, into the light of a profitable and more evocative world.

Who would have ever thought, that that little boy, rummaging through his Grandfather's belongings, would find himself drenched in the warmth and love of the very first person he had ever loved. A person he never would have imagined could have still existed. But who indeed had demonstrated not only how truly alive he was but just how alive he could make that boy too.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

On a grand ecru sofa, in a stone room lit by the warm glow of candlelight, a diminutive boy in his early teens cupped a hand to his mouth, stifling the lion like yawn that followed shortly thereafter. The nerve of these guys, traipsing up in the early hours of the morning, uninvited! The audacity of it that they simply expected him to be awake and willing to accommodate. He had of course, already been up at this most untimely hour but he could hardly imagine any normal human being would be. Just what kind of timetable were these idiots running to, anyway?

"As you can imagine, your contribution would be invaluable, to say the least." The dark haired gentleman cheerfully exposited, seeming to pay not the slightest attention to the boys deliberately complacent expression. Then again, I suppose that shouldn't surprise me, the boy dryly thought. Why should I have expected him to pick up on the more subtle of nuances, when he'd failed to adhere to the fact that I was still dressed in my pajama's and nightcap, was carrying a stuffed bear, a hot water bottle and a cup of cocoa and that I keep casting furtive, longing glances towards the stairs? One thing's for certain; their wives married them for the money and not their considerate, sensitive nature.

The boy sighed, raking a hand back through his chin length, bleach blond hair, attempting to calm himself with positive thoughts. There was no more a liberating consideration than to remind oneself that his patience was not for naught. Such fortitude was due to be rewarded. He need only endure such irritation until that time came. And when the changes started to unfurl the world would be a far different place. He would be free from this benighted game and his responsibility to acting out this wretched role, simply as a means to gain the immaterial acceptance of those insipid wastrels to whom the earth currently belonged. Why, by then it would hardly matter that he had been passed over… perhaps.

But in the meantime… "Eh…? I'm sorry, I get what you're saying but I'm more than happy in my current department. I don't have any real interest in the field of forensic research." He twiddled his little finger about in his ear, shifting on the couch as a means to keep his attention focused. "I'm only fourteen you know… I'd much rather be at school than bottled up in one of those musty laboratories."

The older gentleman, who had a bad habit of continuously rubbing his fingers across his bald patch, seemed affronted by the very idea of a teenage boy choosing school over forensic research. "But… but with all due respect; a prodigy such as yourself could be making much more beneficial use of his time. I mean to say with your intellect as it is, I can hardly imagine that you would need to spend another day in a classroom!"

"And with Mitsuki Amamura currently on unspecified sick leave, we couldn't imagine anyone better qualified to fill his shoes. If it is a matter that concerns your parents, I'm sure we could convince them to come around." The dark haired man offered, glancing towards the stairs as though fully intending to stride directly up them and onward into the aforementioned parents room.

"Now, just hold on a minute. My parents have got nothing to do with this. This is my decision. We don't need to go waking them up to help them decide my future for me." The boy said, linking his fingers daintily together and shunting his half sheathed eyes to the side. Of course his parents were not truly upstairs. They had been absent from his life for more than six thousand years. Who knew where they were sleeping or whether that sleep was not permanent? "There are plenty of people, far more better qualified than I, who are more than capable of filling in for Amamura-san. I think I've made myself abundantly clear. So, if you don't mind, could you go away now? I'm expecting company soon."

This seemed an untruthful thing to say (owing to his current demeanor and attire) but it was in fact, anything but. There was indeed company on the way and he could hardly allow these ignorant men to bear witness to it. Suffice to say it would not have been unsatisfying to stand back and simply savor the end results but then there was always the inevitable clean up period… Which wouldn't have been a problem ordinarily but his refrigerator was currently chock full, with not an inch of space to spare. Not room enough for a toe, let alone and entire arm or leg.

Both men jolted to their feet, as though needles had been viciously pushed up into the soft skin of their buttocks. "W-what?!" The balding one exclaimed, pushing his round glasses closer to his eyes. "But… Etsuko-san-!"

The boy groaned, more loudly than he had intended and dipped his head down between his knees, to better express his weariness. "It's too early for this! We can talk about it later, after work if you wanna… but I'm tired and if I've still got another guest to see before I can shuffle off back to bed. Now if you don't mind, please, be on your way! I don't want to have to ask again!"

The two men exchanged uncertain glances, each seeming to question whether or not it was worth remaining and to continue pushing their concept but one look at the boys increasingly deepening expression of irritation seemed to convince them that now wasn't the best time. With a curt bow and hastened apology, they showed themselves out into the dawn's early light, permitting in their departure, the gradual easing of all the muscles within the boys face. He grumbled nonsensically to himself, climbing to his feet and stretching his arms over his head to pop all the bones out of a relaxed position.

"Damn… what unbelievably bad timing! And to think, humans call us the evil ones." The Prince of the Infernal regions smiled to himself as he slowly climbed the stairs and entered into the first bedroom on the right, his now cheerful features thrown into shadow by the candles stationed on the wall behind him. "Oi, did you hear _Devuputra-Maya-Mara_? They were trying to give me your job!"

The enormous red-haired angel groaned from the corner futon as he lifted away the damp cloth covering his face. "They sure don't waste any time. I only let them know I'd be away late last night. Guys are even more cutthroat than you, your Highness."

The demon Eurynomous smiled as he stuck out his tongue. "And to think I ever doubted such a thing was possible. How are you feeling this morning?"

Mara considered from beneath the white shroud of his facecloth. "Humiliated… seems to sum it up quite adequately."

"Now, now, there's no need to take such a down and out attitude." The petite demon scolded, waving his finger curtly to and fro. "Will out; Hephaestus was bound to win in the end. His cause was greater than your own, considering what was at stake. Be sure to keep your fluids up. I have to speak with his nibs now, so you play quietly while the grown ups talk."

Mara mumbled something that might well have been a curse as he dropped backwards onto the futon, laying the folded cloth over his eyes in order to keep his mana-depleted fever at bay. Eurynomous smiled approvingly at this endearing childlike image as he closed the door, sealing the room in darkness. As he descended down into the lounge area again, he was hardly surprised to find the Master awaiting his presence.

"Do you expect that Mara shall make a full recovery?" His guest asked, bypassing pleasantries entirely. Eurynomous descended the final rung of stairs; crossing the room to seat himself opposite his glamorous sires languishing form.

"I have restored his body. The only residual damage I imagine is his pride."

The Master nodded thoughtfully, one slender leg slung casually over the knee of the other, his bare foot dabbing at the air without purpose. "That Hephaestus… has certainly proven itself to be a veritable hindrance to our progress."

Eurynomous inclined his head; momentarily dislodging the pom-pom adorning his sleeping cap and causing it to sway before his vivid yellow eyes. "Indeed." He took a moment in which to better articulate himself before continuing with his train of thought. "I do hate to quibble with you concerning such matters my Lord but Hephaestus could easily be disposed of, should you choose to ignore the presence of the unborn child growing within his belly." This was an obvious means of phrasing matters, of course but the Cutthroat had hardly earned his reputation by beating about the bush. No, his honorific was bestowed as a means of best demonstrating his forward swinging approach to everything. Why beat about the bush when you could go straight for the throat?

The Master's eyes moved slowly to intercept the Cutthroat's questioning gaze and he left precious little to be misconstrued in as much his expression, as the words that followed. "The innocent is not to be punished for the act of the parent. Have you learnt nothing of my ways by now, Eurynomous? We only act against those whose hands are already steeped in sin. It would be unjust to take Hephaestus' life whilst the infant resides within." He rested back, hands together and languorously settled in his lap. "No, my means through which this unsightly matter shall be resolved is far preferable. You will see for yourself."

There was a sharp dissonance to his words that assured Eurynomous he had no place in further questioning his motives. He had best now agree to it and permit his own concerns to squander. "I have faith in you, my Lord."

The Master respectfully inclined his head. "And I most humbly thank you for your patience. Now, inform me; where does Barron dwell in this tiding?"

"He is currently belayed in the preparing of his hovel, my Lord." Eurynomous conveyed, sipping at his cooling cup of cocoa, simply as a means to occupy himself in this anxious commune. Beneath this deceptively calm veneer however, the Cutthroats blood veritably boiled at hearing that accursed half-breeds name. "According to Mara's words he appears most anxious in receiving his reward."

"Barron…" The Master seemed to muse on his name for some time before deciding what to do with it. "-is easy to understand. As is the insipid Okiko Haruhi, whom he cohabits. They are both driven by predominately carnal vestiges, obsessed with blood and seed." He held out both hands, as if to convey that there was little point in questioning, or even resisting such aberrant infatuations. "I suppose I could ask for no greater envoy, now that my beloved general is lost to me forever."

Eurynomous fervently restrained the wave of jealousy that was threatening to ensconce his senses, instead distracting himself in observing the expressions wrought by his masters' usually serene disposition. "Does it rest so easy with you, my Lord? To grant him capital with that which he desires?"

The farthest right hand corner of the Lord's lip lilted ever so slightly upward, indicative of flagrant emotions stirring erstwhile within. "That detestable Shinigami continues to flout me… I spare no concern as to what Haruhi might wish to exact upon him; so long as the Shukusatsu is firstly removed from his refuse-ridden carcass. Let Barron and Haruhi then do as they wish with what remains."

The Cutthroat demon offered no such indication to suggest he possessed a strong feeling regarding this matter but continued stirring his drink without inclination.

"As you wish. For he is a sinner, is he not?"

"Oh, yes." The Master assured, delicately pressing the pads of his fingers together so that a space was formed between his palms, representative of the dwelling where sin itself forms and fosters. "I would not allow such actions to commence forthwith if it were any other way." Expressionistic lips drew back into a knowing smile as the Lord surveyed the adolescent body and its' ancient host with shrewd eyes. "Does it not please you? To think he will be removed from your path?"

Eurynomous could not meet the Master's eyes without seeming disrespectful and so, he directed his line of sight towards his ankles, hoping the indignant expression he wore was not lost in this. "I'm not certain that I follow your meaning, my Lord."

"Well… correct me if I should speak false but with the Shinigami subtracted from the equation Michael would then be yours for the taking, correct? I do admit…" The Lord's smile extended back to reveal teeth so white they possessed no earthly comparison and his lean fingers caressed a smooth, yet delicately masculine chin. "He looks to be a delicious morsel."

"I'll be sure to leave you a bite." The Cutthroat replied, considering as he did the profound beauty of Michaels vessel, the delectable tenor almost blatantly evident in those dark eyes and perfectly tuned muscles. How ripe his blood must be, so tempting as the fruit of knowledge must have been, when sashayed before the inquisitive eyes of Eve, the Mother of Mankind. So too, did Eurynomous wish to partake of this forbidden nectar, consequences be damned.

The Lord of the Apostles laughed to bear witness to such distraction in the eyes of his most erstwhile advocate. "Be sure that you do! Now, I weary of sitting. Shall we take a walk about your fine residence?"

There was no means with which the Infernal Prince could refuse his Master's request and so, having set down his cup and removed the almost comical sleeping cap, placed himself at the disposal of his Lord. Side by side, they graced the manors long halls and shadowed galleries, her awning rooftops and sweet, unfamiliar scents. They walked in silence for some time and Eurynomous soon came to wonder whether there was anymore to be said, certain, as he was that those matters most essential had not yet been brought to light. It came as almost a relief when, having spent an idle five minutes examining the painting of a blonde haired angelic upon the wall**(1)**, the Lord seemed to find his voice again.

"Oh and Eurynomous? Do commend Devuputra Maya-Mara most highly on his efforts within Muraki manor the night past." The Master's eyes were veiled in shadow and appeared to sink forever awning into endless pools of darkness. "Regardless of how the affair terminated, I would not wish for him to feel that he has disappointed me."

Eurynomous dipped his head in a succinct bow. "I do believe he will be most relieved to hear you say that."

The Lord turned to continue making his way down the darkened hall. "I should hope so. And am I to understand that Asato Tsuzuki had no idea that it was he himself responsible for the conception of those creatures with which he was confronted?"

"If I am to trust what Mara relayed, then I would confirm as much, my Lord." The Cutthroat expressed, having not failed to notice the Master's larger hand sinking into the valley of his spine, where it moved across his cloaked skin in vagrant patterns. "The Shinigami appears to have no idea that it was his own mind from which the Delusions sprang."

An approving murmur fell forth from his Lord's smiling lips and he seemed well satisfied with that which he had heard. "Born from the residue of darkness, lingering from whence he was drawn into the Otherworld… shards falling free and taking those shapes most wondrous and strange… Ah, what a delightful medley! How tortured your mind must be, Tsuzuki!"

"Indeed." Eurynomous said, nodding politely, albeit curtly. He was hoping to continue speaking of such matters, if it would belay the course of other, more unsavory business. "The Hopping Corpse… indicative of restraint and confined suffering, presumably."

They passed by another painting, showing the ravaged impression of a man beneath a tree formed from the split ribcage of a large, herd animal. **(2)** The depiction had a more than vaguely menacing air about it. The Lord offered it a passing, approving smile before continuing forward with his current train of thought.

"The Hopping Corpse is reminiscent of his time spent institutionalized; confined body and soul to the hospital bed of Muraki manor. But perhaps also… a lingering memory of his sister; confined also by her sickness, unable to care for and protect him. What bitter feelings must have arisen from this memory!"

"And the Bowel Thorn…" Eurynomous continued. "It is true that Mara guided its' actions through nekromantia but even Hephaestus must have understood that its' physical form would disappear just as soon as Asato Tsuzuki was removed from its' presence. What do you suppose would have invoked such a revoltingly beautiful form?"

The Master laughed softly as they emerged once more into the grand profligacy of the living area, caressing dimly by the dawns rose hinted light. "Asato Tsuzuki… spent a great deal of his youth in the rose garden surrounding his home in Tokyo. The trimming of the rose bushes is an ever present theme within his mind, as is the symbol of the female body, that of which he is unfamiliar with." The Underdwellers seated themselves upon the sofa, side by side as deliberately prompted by his Lordship. Eurynomous lingered quietly, expression undetermined and body weight shifted in order to favor the farthest curve of the furniture's bolstering. "The lingering memory of his mother… a woman who obeyed her husband and allowed herself to be taken away, abandoning her children to a life of uncertainty and persecution. Tsuzuki might not recall her… hence the reason the Bowel Thorn's face was concealed but deep down, he understands only that she was a weak, cowering presence… and oh… how he resents her for that. No wonder he visualized her in such a suffering, tortured visage." The Lord momentarily freed his arm from about Eurynomous' side, in order to convey his opened palms towards the ceiling. "Already this is such a glorious manifestation of the minds delusions… I can only imagine what shall arise from the minds of the similarly affected. All so tortured and hateful themselves…"

Further stipulation of the subject was delayed in the admittance of what appeared to be a dark shroud, pushing through the doors at the far end of the hall. This unfathomable black tinted fog swept upwards and then spiraled towards the floor, forming into the visage of an eleven year old girl, with flowing blood red hair, solemn eyes and a pinstriped dress with knee high stockings. A wide mouth, suggestive perhaps of a forthright nature, was bowed downward, her eyes directed towards the floor as she curtsied.

"- Begging your forgiveness, master but your honored guest has arrived –"

"Ah, Balban, my love." The Lord's simpering croon sounding all too much like a doting father, coddling his daughter after a hard day at school. "How are your injuries fairing?"

"- Thankyou most kindly for your undeserved concern, my Lord-" Balban said, conveying her meaning in words that came not from those delicately poised lips but rather from behind her placid, doe like eyes, shining with an intelligence far exceeding her physical years. " - I am pleased to report that I am almost fully recovered. Unfortunately, I have not yet gained sufficient strength to maintain intangible form for any length of time –"

The Master smiled patiently. "My darling, that is quite all right. My heart only weeps for the dreadful injury done unto my beautiful new apostle. You be sure to rest and regain your strength. The time of the encroaching darkness is soon upon us and you'll want to be prepared now, won't you?"

The Daemon of Delusion allowed a fleeting smile to caress her youthful features as she again curtsied. "- You are very kind, my Lord. I'll be sure to recover as soon as I am able, so that I may be of use to you again –"

"Very good." His Lordship purred, reseating himself upon the sofa, returning his arm about Eurynomous' slender waist. "Please, show my guest in."

Balban turned upon her toes to call out to someone apparently waiting in the hall just beyond. Having assured herself beyond doubt that she'd gained their attention, she offered one final, fleeting curtsy to her master before stepping out through the doorway, allowing the waiting presence to enter. The Lord rested his index finger and thumb against his temple, unable to suppress the satisfied smile taking persuasive hold of his features when he witnessed first hand the recognizable expression of self-assurance on the face of this, his honored guest.

"Ah, Isaac O'bana. You are a rather difficult undead to get a hold of, don't you know?"

The red haired man smiled plaintively. "I do apologize. If I had known right away that the messenger you sent was in fact seeking me out on your behalf, I might not have been behaved so forcefully. I do hope the poor fellows recovery is speeding right along."

"Indeed." The Lord mused, running a finger thoughtfully across his lower lip. "I see you are as unremittingly cheerful as ever."

"And you, my Lord are ever just as observant. How might I be of assistance to you?"

As far as servitile undead went, his Lordship had to admit that Isaac O'bana was by far the most insolent and unmanageable of the lot. Still, it could hardly be helped in these bleak circumstances. The job for which he was required was, quite literally, one that only he could complete.

"I am in need of your particular skills to deal with what has become a rather disorderly impediment to the brigade's advancement."

"My particular skills?" The Germanic gentleman raised his left hand brow, offering a crooked smile in the same beat. "Why do I get the feeling you're not referring to my proficiency in the _spagyric art's_ **(3)** when you say that?"

The Lord sighed, praying for patience as he actively distracted himself from rising aggravation in the continued stroking of Eurynomous' svelte waist. "Isaac, you hold the other end of Hephaestus' lead, which means that right now, you are the only one who commands any means of authority over him."

This time, the expression of Isaac's face was purely sardonic. "I imagine that his Majesty Ashitirote would have better luck than I, having been his patron for several such centuries, no?"

The Lord looked to Isaac with an expression that suggested he best not be so flippant with matters of such gravity. "His Majesties feelings towards Hephaestus remain tinged with affection, dare one might suggest… love even. I understand well that you Isaac, would have no such qualms in dealing a firm hand with it."

"None whatsoever."

"You always were a methodical man, Isaac." The Master established, smiling favorably. "I have always liked that about you."

"Yeah, yeah." Isaac muttered, strolling casually across the room to deposit his behind in the neighboring armchair, legs hanging casually over the armrest. But tell me, what have I to gain from forging this contract?"

Eurynomous shifted slightly to accommodate for his Lords' changing movements, not failing to notice the look of barely disguised humor in the distinguished Underdwellers eyes as he leaned forward to commune with the impertinent Once-Human.

"Straight to the point I see. Very well; what is it that you desire?"

Isaac continued to smile, unwavering in his good cheer. "Well, to be honest I can't say for sure what it is that I want." He picked nonchalantly at a loose thread upon the armchairs expensive thread. "I'm sure I'll think of something as we go along… my needs are simple. If you promise that they will be eventually met, well then, that's good enough for me."

The Lord chuckled in such low countenance that it sent a vibration through the chests of those in his presence. "Well that I can do. Shall we forge the contract then?"

"Yes." The Undead concurred, nodding thoughtfully. "Those terms sound quite agreeable to me."

And so, they drew up a contract:

"_**I, **_**Isaac O'bana**_**, as the obtainer of the **_**mizuage **(4)_**of **_**Hephaestus the Forger**_**, pledge to restrain the erstwhile actions of the aforementioned former Apostle, in means as such that no mortal harm befalls the aforementioned or harm to the unborn child of which the aforementioned carries. Furthermore, I, **_**Isaac O'bana**_**, shall henceforth act as an agent of Mitkiel and aid his legion in all its' endeavors, as an Apostle of the Spirit Brigade."**_

_**- EC -**_

**1.** This painting is called '_**Angelic Love'**. _It is by a young girl named Akiane, who is a child prodigy. At 13 years of age she is a phenomenal artistic talent, with a steadfast and devoted belief and love of God. My portrayal of Saki in _Dark Adaptation _is very similar to how Akiane speaks of her belief and faith and so I very much wanted to make an allusion between them. Akiane painted this particular piece when she was eleven years of age. I like it, essentially because I imagine this is how Seki might look; with golden hair and light brown eyes and a gentle, wholesome expression. I believe this painting is hanging in the home of Eurynomous because of Saki/Pandora.

**2:** In direct contrast to _'**Angelic Love'**_ is this unnamed painting by the artist **Francis Bacon**. Francis Bacon's artwork inspired a number of events in _Dark Adaptation, _in particular the warehouse scene, where Tsuzuki and Watari encounter a number of skinned corpses hanging from the ceiling. This picture is suggestive of where Eurynomous' may have gotten the idea to construct a room as such. It was painted in 1946 and is recognized as one of Bacon's masterpieces. For those interested, this piece and many others of the same ire can be found be found simply be doing a name search on google.

**3: _Spagyric art__'s_ –** From the Greek words meaning to _separate _and _join together. _If I were to stop being a smart-ass for a second, I could just tell you that it refers to the science of alchemy and its' various processes. But this may not be precisely what Isaac means!

**4: **_**Mizuage:** _Surely you guys know what this means! _Mizu_ – the Japanese word for 'water' and '_age'_ to 'rise up on'. It is mostly used in reference to geiko and means of course 'virginity', or the act of sexual intercourse with a virgin. There are various interpretations but I think you guys have got the gist of it!

**XxXxXxXxXx**

**Watari: **Hey! How much more screen time do Tsuzuki and Mad-Eye get anyway? Come on! I wanna see what's happening between 'Ri and I!

**Hickok: **(Still bubbling unintelligibly from sofa) That's the next chapter. It just needs a little more fine-tuning. Be patient.

**Watari: **It'll be another five months before you get finished with it!

**Hickok: **Right, that's it. (Sits up angrily) You just lost the possible lemon scene I was going to give you.

**Watari: **What? Waaaaaaaaaaaah, no Hickok! I take it back, I didn't mean it! I wanna have more lemon time with Ri!

**Muraki: **I think you've had more than enough hanky-panky time with Oriya, Mr. Watari.

**Watari: **Like I care what _you _think! You got to have two chapters of lemon with Tsuzuki!

**Muraki: **So did you and Oriya.

**Watari: **It was in the same update. It didn't count!

**Count: **In so saying, I can hardly imagine why the two of you are complaining. I for one have had no lemon scene at all!

**All: **(Ignores him)

**Count: **Hey! Don't treat me like Tatsumi!

**Tatsumi: **…

**Hickok: **(Scratches head unintelligibly) Now, there were a few other things I was going to mention here but damned if I can remember what they are… Oh yes, now I recall! Credit must go to a book I just read recently called _'Bring me Children'_, in which the antagonist character was a psychotic doctor with glass eyes. The way he spoke and interacted with people reminded me so much of Muraki! This wonderful characterization influenced much of the way in which I now write Muraki, so kudos there!

**Muraki: **I object! That doctor was utterly despicable! He carved people's eyes out with a spoon and brutally tortured them to death!

**All: **…

**Muraki: **… Why are you all staring at me like that?

**Hickok: **(Clears throat) Any who… what else…? Ah yes, this is incredibly important, so I do hope that all my readers are paying attention!

**Oriya: **Most of them have already hit the back button now they reached the end of the chapter.

**Tsuzuki: **I would have done it before then!

**Hickok: **SHUT-UP BASTARDS! (Throws used tissues at aforementioned bishounen)

**Tsuzuki: **(Screams, falling on his ass in an attempt to get away from the snotty tissues) OMG that is SO gross! Get em away, get em awaaaaaaaaaaaaay!!

**Oriya: **(Holds Watari in front of himself as a shield)

**Watari: **(Happy) I'll be a meat-shield for you, _any day_, 'Ri! (Takes a hit of dirty tissues square in the face) Although… this might really be testing the bonds of our relationship…

**Hisoka: **What's the important announcement, Hickok? You might wanna put it in bold if it's really that significant.

**Hickok: **Right you are, Hisoka! That's why you're the brains of this outfit! (Switches to bold) **As of some months ago, all the earlier chapters of **_**Dark Adaptation **_**have undergone an extreme facelift!**

**Saki: **(Reading from a prompter in a very stiff, totally fake voice) Why, whatever do you mean, Hickok?

**Hickok: Why I'm so glad you asked, Saki! What I mean is that all the earlier chapters have been rewritten in order to suit my current standards.**

**Watari: **Wait! Does this mean the storyline has changed?

Hickok: … Only very slightly. **However, the chapters are now more in-depth and new scenes have been added that before did not exist!** Oh and Watari; you and Oriya now don't kiss until the night _after _you almost get raped by the guys in the alley.

**Watari: **WHAT?! That's such a long time to wait for Oriya's lips!

**Oriya: **Actually, I do believe I prefer it this way. It adds more depth to my character and seems more realistic.

**Muraki: **You just like it because it makes you seem less cheap and perverted.

**Oriya: **So sue me for wanting to preserve my refined image.

**Watari: **THIS SUCKS!

**Hickok: **Ah shut-up! There's heaps more material to read, so it's all good! It just means readers might have to go back and read over the earlier chapters.

**Tatsumi: **Is this why it has taken you so long to update these newer chapters, Hickok? Because you were working on the earlier additions also?

**Hickok: **(Nods) Mmm-hmm. That's right. **Anyway, the new additions are not up yet because I'm still finishing up as I go along but I'll keep you updated on my progress on my Bio page. I'll tell you when the chapter has been re-posted and what additional scenes, if any, have been added to it.**

**Tsuzuki: **Sounds like a lot of work!

**Hickok: **It's mostly just to satisfy myself, sweetness. I want it to be the best possible story I can write! (Claps hands together) With that all being said, thankyou as always for joining me on this, the update, dear readers! If you enjoyed, please leave a review, if you did not enjoy, please leave me alone. Next time we return to Kokakuro! What secrets has Ichibana been hiding? Why is there a cop hanging around? And what's going to happen to Watari now he's disobeyed a direct order from Enma? I hope I'll see you all there! Until then; take care crossing the road, don't swallow chewing gum and call your mother; she worries. Adios, sayonara, fare the well and tallyho! (Crawls back into bed with a hot water bottle and a cauldron of chicken soup)

**Watari: **(Looking suspiciously at Ichibana) _What_ secrets exactly have you been hiding from me, Ichibana?

**Ichibana: **(Eating sardine flavored cookies) Not until the update, blondie!


	32. Watari: Drops of Disillusion Chpt 6 pt 2

_**Dark Adaptation.**_

**DISCLAIMER:** Yami no Matsuei is the property of Matsushita-san and I gain no monetary benefit from the use of its' characters and created world.

**Note: **Another hidden chapter for your enjoyment, readers! This chapter requires a bit of explaining. It does appear as a new chapter but it is actually chapter 6 part 2. From Watari's point of view, details a trip to the Paranormal bar _Sîné's _and the very first appearance of the Cleaver man. It follows on directly after chapter 6, where Tsuzuki has his date with Muraki. I wanted readers to be able to see that there was a new chapter up so it appears for now at the end of DA, rather than where it should be. I'll try and place it appropriately after you guys have gotten a look at it.

I do hope that you all enjoy it, though it isn't necessary to read this chapter to get a feel for the story in its' entirety. It's simply an extra; giving a little more of a cheap scare towards the end and digging deeper into Watari's feelings concerning his past. With that being said, tarry forth my dears!

Warnings for this chapter: Violence, disturbing imagery, disturbing dancing, sex scene and um... I don't know what else. Too much OC-ness possibly. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy after a seriously long hiatus on my part!

**Drops of Disillusion**

You're living in a lie, your tears, repentance fills your eyes  
Your life is not what it seems to be  
For you breed agony  
Your tortured mind will cry out, take my soul

Die for me, die for my sins for I've seen  
My cold and bitter end

Trapped illusions of your fate  
Your end is only what you've made  
Return and taste reality again  
Your sudden faith is all in vain  
Your withered voice is chanting  
I'm impure

Die for me, die for my sins for I've seen  
My cold and bitter end

Standing at the altar, hands in prayer  
Your crystal image shatters despair

Suffering no one can help you now  
Betrayed by your worn and tattered vows

You're living in a lie, your tears, repentance fills your eyes  
Your life stands for nothing but your shame  
No one else will bear your blame  
My mortal life of anguish I've endured

Die for me, die for my sins for I've seen  
My cold and bitter end  
As you feel the lies hypocrisy chokes the life from you  
Die for me, die only for me  
Now ... DIE

"**Die for my sins" ~ Sanctuary (Written by L. Rutledge & W. Dane)**

"_I wondered vaguely if this was when it would end, whether I would pull up tonight's darkness like a quilt and be dead and at peace evermore_." ~ **William Manchester**

**Watari**

I have read a great many fictional works concerning supernatural creatures in my time and it has become plain to me that human beings are of the inert opinion that we immortals exist at some mesmeric, untouchable distance from they. Writers have described us as 'powerful', 'romantic', 'sexy', and 'without limit to any activity in that which we engage'. Sleep and consequence have no bearing upon our immeasurable existences.

It's a charming notion, (especially that sexy dimension) but I honestly cannot imagine why any intuitive author could fool themselves into believing such a thing; for I have never met a Paranormal creature that seems to fit any of their conceptions in the least. We are no more romantic than any human (and yes, believe or not that does extend to vampires), no more prone to catching the eye of fancy than any other beautiful person. We are certainly strong and have abilities beyond that of the mortals, but in just about every other way we were subject to much the same discomfort. Why, the characters in these paranormal romances seemed to have no inflection of a weary state of mind or body; whereas in my case, I'm sure that since my death I have never been so exhausted! That 'eternal sleep' thing that had been carved on my headstone was a bunch of crap.

You soon learn however, as you do with any occupation, that the routine eventually becomes as much a part of you as a notch in a whittled carving becomes a sloping curve; taking shape and becoming recognizable. One day it all starts to fall into place and despite feeling as though someone has taped stones to your eyelids, you find a means through which to have a social life and still manage to drag yourself wearily from bed the next morning. This was the minor conundrum with which I was currently faced.

I was due a very early morning in Kyoto the next day and yet in the same instance, I struggled with the disconcerting feeling that if I did not make a tried attempt to cheer myself up that night, I would leave for this assignment in the wrong frame of mind and spend the investigation in a most unbecoming state of moroseness. And this was hardly going to win the affections of my besotted.

I mulled it over, gathering my misplaced items of clothing from the sidewalk as Tsuzuki sighed and stretched his arms above his head, staring out across the street to the bustling folk in a busy restaurant.

"Man, that was stressful…" He muttered, bending over to pick up and refold one of my newly purchased shirts, price tag still boastingly attached. "Should we join Ichi-chan for a drink and unwind? I could sure go an apple cinnamon shot right now… take the edge of this whole night right off."

I plucked the shirt off of him and stuffed both it and the other items of clothing back into the various bags from which they had initially upended. "I'm not sure you need anymore to drink, fella." I said, in the mood to tease him a little. "And I'm quite certain you've done enough kissin' for tonight, too."

Tsuzuki offered an uncouth little growl and jabbed his elbow into my upper arm. "Agh! Would you leave it _alone_?!" He puffed his cheeks out in a manner I recognized as him feeling both aggravated and embarrassed. "It was just a kiss, don't go making it out to be anything more than what it was!"

"Come on now, let me have my fun. You're obviously havin' yours."

Tsuzuki's eyes widened as if to say he couldn't possibly believe the words that had come out of my mouth. "That. Was _not_. Fun. That was not fun! I just wanna forget it ever happened. We gonna go cleanse our palette's or what?"

Well, I would have much preferred to collapse in bed and not rise for at least a couple of days. But what with the difficult evening Tsuzuki had just been made to endure, I couldn't very well tell him I was too tired to go; so I swallowed my real feelings and followed him up the street towards the _Sakura Zensen _so that we could meet up with Ichibana and change.

We entered the apartment to find the djinni itself perched on the couch in its' pajama's and slippers, looking very comfortable whilst sipping from a cup of tea and watching a reality television show. It was so completely absorbed in what was happening on the screen that it didn't even look up as we entered.

"Hey Ichi, seems we'll be joining you after all." I amended, dumping my bags on the floor whilst Tsuzuki slid himself up onto a barstool. The djinni waved a hand at me without turning its' eyes from the television.

"Shh, shhh, honey," It cautioned. "I wanna see which one of these slutty girls that hot fella picks to go on a second date with." **(1)** Comprehension dawned on its' face and it spun about, television momentarily forgotten, to offer Tsuzuki a questioning eye. "Speaking of _dates_…"

Tsuzuki groaned, sinking his head down against the counter with what sounded like a painful thump. "Ichibana, I don't even wanna get started explaining everything that went on tonight."

"He kissed him." I said, earning a slap on the arm from a mollified Tsuzuki. "Well you did!" I shot back, ignoring his baleful expression.

"It doesn't mean I want you shouting it out to all and sundry! God Watari!"

"What are you so worried about? Ichibana doesn't care who you snog!"

"Though it is always entertain' ta see ya embarrassed, Doll-face." Ichibana said, dipping a biscuit into its' tea before biting into it. An amber drop slipped free over its' bottom lip and into the hallow of its' chin. "So, is he a good kisser?"

Tsuzuki glared at me as though this particular line of questioning was my fault. "_See_? Now see what you've set off?"

Ichibana waved its' finger at him, eyes still focused on the TV screen. "Answer the question, little Asato. Humor a loveless djinni, won't you?"

Tsuzuki groaned deeply and about as obnoxiously as possible, obviously stalling for time. He started swiping at his lip, as though doing so would erase what had already touched it. Nothing short of a wire brush and a bottle of bleach would be able to undo that damage.

"He kisses _fine_." The brunette eventually professed, his tone accusatory. Of course it was obvious to all of us that Muraki perhaps kissed just an inch over the borderline of _fine_ but Tsuzuki was hardly prepared to deprave himself further and admit to that. At least… not at this early stage, anyway. "And so long as that's all he's asking at the moment, I can handle it."

"Blondie, have you yet explained to our little friend that kissing can lead to other personal and considerably more invasive things?" Ichibana asked, the light of the television screen reflecting off of its' bright red eyes.

"Don't call me little!" Tsuzuki snapped, bouncing up off of the stool as though it had suddenly turned into a used pincushion. "I may be inexperienced but I'm well aware what Muraki wants of me and that doesn't mean I have to deliver it!"

"That's right poppet, you hold strong. Make sure and squeeze a few more dinners and some expensive jewelry out of it first." Ichibana amended, not truly paying attention. I perched myself on the edge of the coffee table and shucked my shoes off onto the floor, wanting to change them for a more decent pair when we went out. Ichibana's nose wrinkled in response and it used its' own foot to push mine further away.

"Although, the way your love life has been going Tsuzuki, ya might wanna be squeezing a bit more than dinners out of it. You know," I gave him a knowing look. "Nuts for the winter?"

Tsuzuki's face went so red you could have easily have poached an egg on it and I quite thought he meant to storm across the room and slap my face for that last comment. I apologized and he deflated immediately. Teasing Tsuzuki about his lackluster love life was simply one of those things he did not roll with, sensitive as the topic was. I could hardly see why. His breathtaking beauty was only rivaled by his supreme, superseding insecurities, which of course rendered the first null and void in his own mind.

"Anyway, we're not here to talk about my god awful night with Muraki," Tsuzuki reminded us, once the blush had receded out of his cheeks. "We're here to try and help me forget about it. So, what do you say, Ichibana, eh? Shall we go see daddy?"

The djinni curled its' lip. "If he wanted to see me he would call." It leant across the couch towards me, a suspicious gleam in its' eye. "Ye haven't been deletin' any o' my messages have ya, Stinky feet?"

I snorted, waving my sock covered toe under the djinni's defenseless nose. "I wouldn't do that. Why don't you get your own phone, save me being your stupid secretary?"

"Ye know how technology affects a djinni's essence, Bubble-brain." Ichibana said, ducking under my foot and reaching out to snag another ginger snap from the plate on the table. It had a craving for English biscuits and saw to it that my cupboards were always stocked with them. They had to be specially ordered in from an international food shop but Ichibana always seemed able to pay for whatever luxuries it desired. Though I hadn't a clue where its' money came from and in all honesty, I rather preferred not to know. "It's bad enough just walkin' down a city street with the cars buzzin' by, now ya want me to go strappin' machinery ta ma body as well?" It scoffed around the biscuit, spraying crumbs all over the place. "No thanks. Ye can just go right on bein' my stupid secretary."

Tsuzuki chuckled as he made his way over to sit beside the djinni on the sofa, pulling its short legs over his lap and patting the leopard spotted slippers it favored. "Listen…" He began sensitively. "I'm sure there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Orias is probably just overworked like usual. He is _Sîné's_ Chief Steward after all. He's got a lot on his plate."

"Not least of which is _you_, my dear." I teased, giving Ichibana's knee a little shake. "I mean, you're not exactly low maintenance."

It slapped my fingers with what remained of the ginger snap. "I'm _very _easy going, thankyou very much. If I've been a little… cranky lately it's probably just hormones." It gave pause, its' body lurching slightly as though affected by wind and it cupped its fist over its heart shaped lips. "Or else I'm comin' down with somethin'. I've been feelin' pretty damn lousy these past two weeks."

"Awww…" Tsuzuki simpered, cocking his head to one side and bearing a derisive smile. "Maybe it's love sickness? You've been missing your liddle lamb!"

"Dammit, would you stop callin' him that?!" The djinni snapped, bouncing onto its' feet and stuffing the last of the biscuit into its' mouth. "Well all right then, let's go to _Sîné's_. Just give me a moment to put my face on, loves."

"Hey Watari, mind if I borrow some of your clothes?" Tsuzuki asked, as Ichibana strutted down the hall and veered off into the bathroom. "Y'know I don't have many good 'going out' clothes."

"Sure, mate." I said, emptying the dregs of Ichibana's tea into the sink, before leading Tsuzuki towards the bedroom. My three birds blinked sleepily up at us as I switched on the light and 003 immediately zoomed over from his perch to nip Tsuzuki on the ear. I smiled as I wrenched my half of the sliding wardrobe open (the other half 'belonged' to Ichibana, though most of its' possessions had bled over into my own) and started flicking through the contents. I was an inch taller than Tsuzuki but we both had long legs, so most of my trousers fit him well. I picked out a charcoal gray pair and handed them over to him, along with a casual black Chinese style shirt that tapered in the lines of his torso and accentuated his toned body perfectly. I adopted a ripped pair of gray jeans and a black, turtleneck with bandage sleeves extending all the way down to my knuckles. Tsuzuki opted for casual flats (all the better to escape from gropers with), whilst I selected a pair of black, lace up boots with a three-inch heel. Ichibana came trotting in at one point (face made up in its' usual state of gothic perfection) and left with an armful of clothing from its' side of the wardrobe in order to get changed in the bathroom.

To this very day, I still haven't seen Ichibana's naked form but from what I gather through extensive research (and incessant harping) is that the physical form of a djinni bears much the same resemblance as a child's doll; with no outward genitalia or gender specific features. They exist as a complete and unequalled compromise between sexes. However, since djinni are indeed shape shifters, they can adopt the sexual genitalia of either gender to suit their momentary circumstances. So far as I knew, Ichibana felt no need to resort to such measures and remained in its' androgynous form. How love making was achieved as such, I cannot say with any real certainty but I have my theories; the most plausible of which is that the flesh within the pelvic area acts to envelope that which it receives. Djinni's even had internal feminine reproductive structures, as their original purpose was to act as breeding agents for the Underdwellers, whenever their numbers were in danger of dwindling. Ichibana had admitted to me that it itself had been pregnant a number of times in its' five hundred years of life, though it was quite strange to think of it as a mother. And it was certainly clandestine concerning this area of its' existence but then, who out of any of us has been upfront concerning their private life?

The much-belayed point being was that Ichibana was not explicitly male and as such, didn't want to change in front of us. And I was quite fine with that. (The furthered pursuit of knowledge notwithstanding).

Tsuzuki was naturally exquisite and so didn't require any further assistance with his looks. (Though 003 attempted to help by preening his hair, which only resulted in further aggravating his feisty coif). I on the other hand could use all the help I could get and so set to work, painting my eyelashes and rubbing tinted moisturizer into my skin in order to offset the ruddy texture in my cheeks. I took off my glasses and put my contacts in whilst Tsuzuki used a straightner to sort out some of the more unruly tresses in my hair. I'd just gotten to the stage where I was feeling tentatively content with my appearance when Ichibana came strutting back in and shot all that to hell.

It was wearing ankle length stockings with suspenders, cut just above the shoe line into sharp crosses and five-inch designer heels with gold clasps. The black dress it wore was low cut in both the front and back and sported the same jagged cross pattern as the stockings. It had long sleeves, gaping at the wrists, a long trailing bow at the back and a red hem that peeked strategically out from beneath the skirt. Ichibana had taken the time to adorn its' wrists with silver jewelry and its' plum colored hair was pinned up with a few waved tresses falling artistically free, whilst the spiky bangs at the front crossed over its' eyes and jutted out at inhuman angles. On its' head perched a raised black and white band with intersected crosses hanging from each side and a choker of matching design sat delicately against the djinni's slender throat. Its' lipstick and eye shadow were matching black, its eyes coal lined and eyelashes tinted and brushing luxuriously against perfect pale cheeks. Its' ears were littered with their usual sixteen piercings and its curvy body looked like one big promise.

"You bitch. Go away." I snapped, tugging the straightner cord out of the power point and flinching as a blue spark shot up. Ichibana sniffed and waved its hand at me, dismissing my lack of confidence.

"Don't be so insecure. You know as well as I do that its only wrapping. And trust me; it ain't all its' cracked up to be." It strutted about me and reached into the closet pulling out a purple mink jacket, which it then wrapped about its' upper arms. "Grab ya stuff." It waited until I'd snatched up my wallet and set my pets to rights before switching off the light and leading us back out into the hallway. Tsuzuki rolled his eyes as he nudged the djinni in the side.

"I'm gonna need a violin. It must be _so _hard on you, being so gorgeous." He teased with a roll of his eyes. Ichibana smiled ironically as it darted across the room on precariously tottery heels in order to grab another biscuit from the tray on the table.

"You're one to talk," It said fairly. "And let me tell ya now; most nice folks are way too intimidated by me to just strike up a conversation. Only sleaze bags or overconfident jerks ever get the moxy and I'd really rather they just didn't make the effort, ye know?" Tsuzuki slung on his trenchcoat and I my red jacket before then switching off all the lights and stepping out into the hallway, locking the door as I went. "Orias said that if he hadn't served our table at the club he would have _never _summoned up the courage to say two words to me. I reckon that's part of your problem too, Doll-face."

"What's part of my problem?" Tsuzuki asked, sounding offended at the mere suggestion that he even 'had' a problem.

"People think they don't have a shot in hell at ya so they just don't bother tryin'." Ichibana nodded as though that conclusion was most fitting to a long existing conundrum. "Therego, you only attract perverts who aren't the least bit concerned about coming off looking like hapless fools."

"Story of my afterlife," Tsuzuki muttered as we approached the elevator. I was about to depress the button when the doors slid open with a ding, revealing none other than Tatsumi, Hisoka, Wakaba, Terazuma, Saya and Yuma. I could have saved time just then and said the rest of the Summons Section but with Konoe absent from current company, it hardly seems truthful now does it?

I could see something unfolding on Tsuzuki's face. To consort with Muraki less than a half hour ago and to be suddenly faced with our work colleagues, must have felt to him altogether too much like dodging a bullet. His eyes widened until his pupils were rimmed by glaring white, his lip dropping down to expose teeth as starkly bone pale. The blood drained from his face until he appeared as equally washed out as a character in a Tim Burton film.

"G-guys! Hey, hey hello, what a surprise seeing you all here!" He gabbled, trying to hide behind me. Very natural cover there, mate. It was obvious to anyone that he was feeling guilty and trying to hide something, so I did the guy a favor and tried to draw some attention away from him.

"Guys, hey!" I said cheerily, shoving my boot into Ichibana's backside and thrusting it headfirst into the elevator. The djinni shrieked as it stumbled forward and looked back at me with a mouth as wide and round as the top of a teacup. But my little ploy had worked. The others eyes were now all locked on the startling stranger that had just about fallen into their laps. "Where are you all off to?"

"What the hell was _that?!_" Ichibana screeched, slamming its hand on the side of the elevator door. Wakaba poked her head under its' arm to wave merrily at Tsuzuki and I.

"Oh, hey ya'll!" She said, reaching back to pet Tatsumi on his lapel. The secretary actually stared down at the spot she had just touched and I would bet he was considering dusting it off with his handkerchief. "We decided Tatsumi needed a night off to relax so we're taking him out for a couple of drinks. Konoe's gonna meet us down in the foyer."

"Neat! Why don't you guys join us? We're headin' on over to _Sîné's_. You know, the supernatural bar in Matsuya Esplanade?" **(2)**

"What? You mean you can actually get in there?" Yuma asked as the rest of us piled onto the elevator. I pushed the button for the lobby and bit my lip as Ichibana predictably stomped down on my toe.

"We have our methods." I said blinking back tears of pain and smiling at Ichibana, who fluttered its' eyelashes innocently at me. Wakaba seemed to realize then that our newest addition hadn't yet been introduced and ever the lady took the chance to get acquainted.

"Oh, I'm sorry I don't believe we've met." She placed her straightened fingers against her knees and bowed deeply to the djinni, who always seemed a bit nonplussed by the unassuming nature of Japanese women. "I'm Kannuki Wakaba. This is Hajime Terazuma, Yuma Fukiya, Saya Torii and Seiichirou Tatsumi."

"_Ja, _I kno-" I quickly elbowed Ichibana in the side, as a reminder that, as a Paranormal, it wasn't supposed to know who these people were. This would have revealed that I had been keeping the djinni by illegal contract, even bringing it into the Ministry at times, which would have not only seen me laid off but probably sent into the big fiery naughty corner otherwise known as Hell. "- I mean, uh, nice to meet ye all. I'm Ichibana." The djinni nodded to each of my colleagues in turn, offering me an apologetic look.

"Ichibana?" Terazuma repeated skeptically. Ichibana drew the character signs for the spelling of its' name in the air. "As in, 'number one'?"

The djinni rolled its' eyes unappreciatively. "_Nein_, as in shut up and blame the one who named me."

Saya moved around Ichibana, examining it from all sides as if she had never seen such a thing. "I haven't seen you around before… are you new to the Ministry?" She asked, seeming at one point to be examining the interior of Ichibana's ear. The djinni turned to try and face her but by that stage she had already moved to the other shoulder.

"Um… not really no." It said, turning its' head and almost bumping their noses together. "I'm a Merger…"

Hearing that Ichibana was a 'Merger', which was the Ministry coined term for Underdwellers that were living peacefully amongst humans, didn't seem the least bit off putting to the Summons Sections two most snuggliest employees. Yuma's eyes lit up like a sticky fingered child on the receiving end of a toffee apple. "Nyaaw! You're so pretty!" She squealed, wrapping her arms around Ichibana's upper torso and squeezing until the djinni's eyeballs just about shot out like champagne corks. "I wish I looked like you! I bet the guys never leave you alone!"

"Girlie, you're choking me-" Ichibana gasped, trying to pry Yuma's fingers back in order to loosen their grip. This proved a moot point when Saya preceded to glomph it from the other side, doubling the boa constrictor grip to fatal proportions.

"And your skin's so smooth and pale…" The fellow blonde gushed, stroking her hands down either side of Ichibana's face and pushing its plump cheeks together so hard that t looked like a bullfrog. "You look just like an actress! I love your outfit!"

Tsuzuki leaned in to whisper to me. "Looks like we're in for another baptismal of snuggling." He said with a smile. Hisoka yawned over the sound of Ichibana's hysterical gasping in the background and leaned his shoulder into the side of the elevator.

"At least they're giving _me_ a break from it." He muttered, smoothing down the casual black zip up shirt he had chosen to wear for the night. The elevator dinged as we reached the ground floor and Ichibana was able to make good its' escape. It propelled itself out into the foyer, almost barreling headfirst into the flummoxed face of Konoe. He stared at the djinni who was bent double, heaving as though it had gone out of fashion, before his eyes reluctantly trailed up to meet mine as I followed the others out of the elevator.

"Watari-san… are you sure you're quite well for joining us this evening?" He asked with a both concerned and slightly disapproving frown on his face.

Tatsumi took this as an opportunity to add his two sen's **(3)** worth. "Yes, you really should be having an early night if you're wanting to be leaving bright and early in the morning."

I waved my hand irksomely at my two superiors. "Chill you two, it's cool. I'm just comin' out for one or two drinks and then I'm headin' straight home and into bed."

"See to it that you do." Konoe said, allowing for Wakaba to kiss his cheek in greeting. "Our departments in sore need of a success. I hardly need to remind you what'll happen if you should embarrass us and I –" At this point, Ichibana seemed to have regained its' breath and stood to full attention, flinging its' head back with a maidenly huff and straightening its' various adornments, rendering Konoe momentarily speechless. Of course, the djinni was never so oblivious to this kind of attention and smiled sweetly into the chiefs' captivated expression.

"Am I distracting you, Konoe-Shacho?"

Konoe finally seemed to come back to his senses and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as though blocking Ichibana out of his visual field would render him comprehensible again. "Why uh… no, no of course not, why would you be-" He turned towards me and only then did he dare to open his eyes, purposefully not taking notice of Ichibana's ever so deliberate posing. "Whom is this?"

"Why I'm your key into the most exclusive Paranormal bar in town, Konoe-san. Shall we?" Ichibana didn't wait for an answer but grabbed Konoe by the tie and pulled him headlong towards the exit. We had little choice but to follow this amusing spectacle out onto the street, Yuma and Saya shortly thereafter taking the chance to latch on to their new toys arms. Konoe straightened his tie and shot me a look that was so amusing in its' complexity, I'm sure I couldn't do it justice in describing it. Let me just say, it looked to me as though the man were fixing to scream and was having a devilish time trying to hold back. His eyes held a questioning nuance and he bobbed his head towards Ichibana and I recognized that he was asking verification for the djinni's presence.

"Just a friend of mine, boss." I said, trying to assuage his concern. The chiefs' eyes flickered back briefly towards the djinni's shapely figure.

"You don't say? Just a friend huh…" He spoke in a tone that was completely out of context for our boss. It was like he was under some sort of spell! I'm quite sure that this wasn't the first time that Konoe had set eyes on a beautiful person, having been around as long as he had but he was sure as Hell acting like it!

Tsuzuki seemed to find this as amusing as I did and took much relish in chastising the boss over it. He hopped into Konoe's path and walked backwards in front of him, shaking his finger from side to side as we ventured further up the street. "Uh-uh-uh, you old dog! No hanky-panky, boss. That's the rules!"

"You sure kept that one to yourself, Watari." Terazuma said, not bothering to lower his voice. "She's a looker all right." I couldn't have been surprised that the others had mistaken Ichibana for a female (wearing a dress had no doubt contributed to this) and I was certainly not about to go into the specifics of its' race with them just at that moment, so I simply left them thinking in that way.

Konoe appeared scarily thoughtful, his aged fingers set against his chin as he eyed the djinni's stilted strut. "Really just a friend…?"

I sighed so deeply that I felt my bangs lift away from my face. This sort of attention that Ichibana warranted wasn't unusual when it dressed up but sometimes; I still got a little sick of hearing about it. Especially since I hardly ever got to hear it about _me_. Actually… 'hardly ever' would have been a treat of sorts. "Yes, really. But don't go gettin' ideas, ya dirty old bugger. She's spoken for."

Ichibana sashayed off down an alleyway ahead of us and we followed along in its' petite shadow, walking past a run down subway station and into an abandoned laneway. There was a single metal door with a dim red bulb glowing above it. Yuma looked up at it questioningly as we approached.

"Isn't the entrance to _Sîné's_ on the main drag?" She asked hesitantly, looking about with some concern. I could just see her mind racing through half a dozen scenarios, each one distinctly more sleazy and suspicious than the last. "Why are we taking the rear entrance?" She offered a humorous little snort. "That's typical I guess. Trying to make the queers happy."

Tsuzuki gasped in fake indignation and smacked her in the side of the arm as the rest of us caught up. Ichibana reached out to tap one of its' long purple fingernails against the steel of the door.

"_Sîné's_ _is_ open to regular patrons via the street entrance. However, the paranormal bar is accessed via this doorway." It explained, sighing as Saya squeezed its' arm perhaps a little too tightly. "We use the basement area, which is far more spacious than the above ground rooms." It turned to those of us gathered behind, displaying distinctly sharp and shark like teeth. "Appropriate, _nein_? We are _Underdwellers _after all." With that being said, the djinni leaned forward and pushed open the door, gesturing with its head as it stepped over the threshold and into pulsing red light. "Come on through."

We followed it up into a tiny hall that was blocked by another door eight feet away. I'd always liked this entrance into the Paranormal section of _Sîné's_, as it was a complete contradiction to the neighborhood in which the bar was situated. The walls were dark red and lined with photographs of paranormal creatures ranging from movies in the early 1920's to modern day. Old-fashioned lanterns were mounted along either side of the passage, emitting a red glow that made everyone's skin smolder with a crimson sheen.

"So the name of this place… _Sîné's_… what's it mean?" Saya asked, examining a gold-framed photograph of Bela Lugosi from the 1931 original version of _Dracula_.

"It's Celtic," Ichibana said, its' eyes sparkling even brighter in the light from the lamps. "Means 'Beloved of God'. Not without our sense of humor, are we?"

I thought about laughing but the inner door opened just then.

The doorman was an interesting looking guy. He was tall and gangly, with long arms that reached halfway to the floor. He was dressed in theme, sporting a full body skintight leather suit and a mask made of matching material, which covered his face entirely. It made him look like a creepy sadomasochist video game character come to life and set loose on the streets. I wasn't even sure how useful he would be with that mask covering his eyes but apparently he was able to see us perfectly.

His long arms were crossed over his chest, but he eased himself up to stand in the doorway as we approached.

"Ichibana," came a deep raspy voice from beneath the mask. "Haven't seen you here in a while."

Ichibana smiled up at him. "Oh, you know me, Voldur. Busy, busy, busy. Can ye get us in tonight, darling?"

The doorman inclined his strange head. "Shouldn't be any trouble for you. However, I will need to check their ID." He gestured with his long hands towards Wakaba, Hisoka, Yuma and Saya. "Their _Shinigami _ID mind you. I can tell just by lookin' at some of you that ya didn't make it past sixteen. If ya can prove to me that you've actually been around longer than the legal age limit, it should be fine."

This was a tired but necessary process when accessing Paranormal bars. The first time we had come here, Tsuzuki had been carded at the doorway because of his boyish features. Sometimes I feel the slightest bit jaded that no one ever bothers to ask me for my ID but it's quite obvious that I _do_ look my age.

Wakaba often wore a Japanese school uniform to work but this and her youthful features were actually quite misleading. She had passed away fifteen years ago at the age of nineteen. She fished out her Shinigami ID and passed it timidly into the hand of the doorman with a shy smile.

"Thankyou miss," Said the doorman, bowing his masked face to inspect the card. He was a rather congenial sadomasochistic video game villain. "Wakaba Kannuki, age thirty-four…" He looked up at her and his voice became rather curious. "Are you the head of Area 4?"

Wakaba looked mildly surprised. "Um… yes, sir. That's right. But how did you know that?"

Voldur chuckled as he handed back her ID. "The Security Department guys from your Ministry are in and out of here all the time. Sounds like you're pretty popular with that lot."

Wakaba blushed and tried to modestly wave this aside, which just made us laugh more. Terazuma's own face had gone red and he huffed irritably.

"Those security department guys need to learn to keep their eyes in their own thick heads," He grumbled, which only made me laugh more.

"Come on, Terazuma, can ya really blame em? I mean, just _look _at the gal, would ya?" I said, meaning to tease him a little. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. "She's cute! It's just a shame that uh… _you_ can't appreciate it."

Terazuma looked fit to wrap his hands around my neck. He had a peculiar affliction, did our Terazuma. He was possessed by a parasitic Shikigami. Whenever Terazuma came into contact with a girl or even a guy who _looked _like a girl (see, Hisoka) the Shikigami Kagan Kuroshungei burst free and only Wakaba's constraint _mana _could restrain it again. Needless to say, this was something of a sore point with him and meant that a love life for this very heterosexual Shinigami was virtually impossible.

I was expecting some kind of reaction for chiding him but not the one that I received. Tatsumi reached down and plucked my arm away from Wakaba's shoulders and steered it as far from her as possible.

"Watari-san, mind you keep your hands to yourself." He gently warned as Wakaba looked at him in mild surprise, her blush deepening considerably. Tatsumi cleared his throat and gave a little nod, looking considerably uncomfortable in having said anything at all. Nothing thrilled me so much as the thought of an office scandal and I was certainly sensing one boiling beneath the surface here. I had to cover my mouth so that no one could see me smiling but Ichibana still noticed and gave me a sharp elbow in the side.

"Don't tease," It reprimanded, which I understood would be considerably difficult for me, given my personality. I didn't say anything because I couldn't very well promise to behave myself.

Voldur checked Yuma and Saya's ID's. They had each passed away at age eighteen, five years ago, so their collective age was twenty-three. Hisoka was the youngest of all of us and had died at age sixteen, three years ago. Having assured Voldur that he was only going to drink soft drinks, the doorman seemed satisfied to nod the rest of us through. We each got a paper wristband emblazoned with the words, "Olde enough to suck at _Sîné's_". Voldur waved us through and closed the door behind us, returning to his post against the wall as we entered into the general hustle and bustle of the club.

The club was styled to replicate a medieval castle setting; with a very stereotyped theme that I couldn't help but like. The walls were designed to resemble stone and adorned with various old-fashioned paintings and or pictures depicting movie monsters or gothic images. Chains and cages containing what I assumed were fake skeletons, hung from assorted stone pylons. Live bats would occasionally fly overhead whilst you were eating or dancing and were thoughtful enough to never need to relieve themselves on your food or head. (Thank goodness) The curtains were soft red velvet and open caskets with matching interior perched upon the stage and other areas, in which you could have your picture taken.

The tables themselves were candlelit with flames that generated no heat and candles that couldn't be knocked over, so as not to hurt anyone. Signs on the wall, warned against particular unsavory behavior. "No biting on premises" "_Sîné's _bears no responsibility for loss of personal belongings, money or souls." "Anti-social behaviour will not be tolerated".

Even though it was a quiet night by human standards, Paranormal creatures don't care to run to the same routine as we humans; the club was packed out. The lead male performer was on stage with the band, singing "The devil inside" to a swaying, jiving crowd. I spotted a number of demons, all drinking blood beer and smoking without actual cigarettes. Staying a fair distance away from them were a small group of Celestials (angels in human form) who were turning their water to wine by swiveling their fingers around the tops of their glasses. A waiter was storming towards them, complaining under his breath all the while, "- doing it again, after I already told them there's a WTW policy…"

"WTW?" Hisoka asked, catching the tail end of the complaint but not the thoughts behind it.

"Water to wine." I explained, smiling as the waiter proceeded to berate the Celestials, who stared back with complacent and serene smiles a human could only replicate by perhaps smoking something a little to the side of dodgy. "You cheat the club out of a lot of money when water's for free and you turn it instead of buying your alcohol from the bar. They're pretty strict on it here. Ichibana got us busted for it once. Not that the wine was any good mind… tasted like it just came out of a cask."

I continued looking about, intrigued as I always was when afforded the opportunity to observe a group of Paranormals in action. There were a couple of shape shifters laughing hysterically in the corner as they drunkenly merged their features about to the amusement of those they were sitting with. There were Once-humans, fairies (tall, ethereal and exuding a kind of glow that made Ichibana seem positively dull in comparison) and a couple of vampires sitting with what looked like two very willing blood donors. The same waiter who had just chastised the Celestials came bustling past in their direction now, muttering; "… and now this. Didn't I just _say _no BYOB?"

"BYOB?" Wakaba enquired with a nervous laugh.

"Bring your own body." Ichibana provided, seeming extraordinarily distracted for someone who hadn't at all been eager to rush over here. It wended its' way towards the bar, the rest of us sliding along behind like the tail of a snake. "Hi boss."

'Boss' was otherwise known as Rook, the Head Chef. He ducked down to see who had called for him and spotted Ichibana through the servery hatch. "Ichibana, you've sure been keeping us in the lurch." He came out the front and leaned over the counter, smiling amiably from beneath a stained cooks hat. Rook had broad, genuine features and very messy black hair that was so springy that it seemed ready to launch his hat free from his head at any moment. He possessed a very large build and arms that looked like dark, leathery hams protruding from beneath hastily rolled up shirtsleeves. "Table 8's free, if ya wanna rest your feet." He glanced over his shoulder and then leaned in conspiratorially. Ichibana offered its' ear sweetly. "He's just out the back doing a stock intake. What say I send him over to your table as soon as he gets out?"

Ichibana smiled, gently pecking the cooks' cheek and leaving a dark lipstick stain against his weathered skin. "Thanks Rook, I'd appreciate that."

We made our way over to the table but were unfortunately intercepted by the owner before we could sit down. 'Marquee Albans' was the owner of the establishment and was a thoroughly exuberant demon of refined tastes. He was small, standing approximately only four feet in height, with elegantly cut and crimped white blond hair and elven features. Tonight he was dressed in an early 1900's era English themed white and emerald green suit, with a series of elegant pins gleaming at his throat and a smile so beautiful it could have made just about any woman with even the highest moral standards step out of her underwear. (Regardless of his height, the Marquee possessed a natural grace and refined elegance that made him seem much larger than life). He had once given Tsuzuki a full body check and I'd gotten the impression that he had liked what he'd seen but so far he hadn't made a move on the shy Shinigami. (For which I think we are all grateful. If there is one thing that Tsuzuki doesn't need, it's another persistent and/or creepy stalker.)

At this point in time however, the Marquee's eyes were only for Ichibana. He came sweeping down the isle from the VIP room with several other demons in accompaniment, each one a blatant contradiction to my previous statement that paranormal creatures rarely stand up to romantic introspection.

"Ah now, _this _is what we have all been waiting for!" Albans doted, grasping Ichibana's hand and bringing it smartly against his mouth. "This lovely thing is Ichibana of the Jann, who will probably one day be the 'great Ichibana of the Jann'. This proud creature insists on being very silly and refusing to take a patron, though many of us foolish men gather we are so deserving of such beauty!" Ichibana smiled demurely as the men all laughed at the Count's well-delivered flattery. Ichibana didn't like the Marquee one bit but it could certainly put on a nice enough act when it wanted to. "You shall never see eyes quite so beguiling, I can assure you! And to see how it moves… You and your lovely friends are always welcome here of my good grace Ichibana but tonight I simply must insist that you do me this small favor to earn your keep. The mood is stagnating, so what you must do for me is give all the guests here a chance to look at you. You must wander all around – in the VIP area, around the bar, in the back garden, all through the enclosed areas, everywhere! Now go along and get working!"

Now I understood how Ichibana managed to accumulate money from time to time. By obliging these requests, Ichibana bought more business into the bar and as a result, earnings were usually doubled by the end of the night and the djinni was billed a portion for its' contribution. Though I didn't understand until quite some time later, Ichibana's face was well known amongst the demonic mainstreamers because it had once had for its' patron, a very powerful and influential Underdweller. When fellow Underdwellers saw Ichibana about, well, they reacted to it in much the same way we humans would most likely react to meeting the courtesan's of the emperor. And we, plain Shinigami as we were, disassociated from any grandeur whatsoever, took our seats as Ichibana patiently wandered about _Síné's _as the Marquee had asked, past the bar area, into the romantically candlelit back rows and through the skull wreathed doorway into the garden area, where there gathered handfuls of rarely considerate Paranormals to smoke and engage in other manner of unsocial activity.

Ichibana made little headway because every minute or so, someone would inadvertently mistake the djinni for a performer and wish to have their picture taken with it. Ichibana tried to be a good sport about this but every now and again, I would catch sight of a surreptitious middle finger sneaking up into shot to accompany the ignorantly grinning face of the customer. And then, when it seemed as though it might finally make it back to joining us, a demon who recognized its' face came bustling over and insisted on walking Ichibana outside onto the balcony area to parade in front of his associates – just as he might have done some with some fish he had caught in a net.

Ichibana was often extraordinarily apologetic about this. In all honesty – it knew that it was beautiful and it knew entirely well that its' appearance was subject to curiosity, fascination and the like – but it had known this for four-hundred years and rather seemed intensely weary of this 'bangle treatment'. Finally, after speaking briefly with one of the more influential patrons and her guests, Ichibana came scuttling over as quickly as possible and just about dived over all our laps to get into the corner, where it wouldn't be so easily seen and or pried out of.

"God _damn _I'm gettin' fed up with this! I came in fucking tracksuit pants and a jumper once and then I _still _had to walk around and smile at everyone!" The djinni complained, smacking its' face and hands down on the table in exasperation. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, entirely unsympathetic to such an appalling plight as being adored.

"Oh yes, _poor _Ichibana. I'm beautiful and everyone constantly reminds me of it. They all want to worship me on bended knee and buy me drinks and hit me up for sex at every available opportunity. Wah." I said, expressionlessly. This must have been the right thing to say because instead of being offended, the djinni's mouth hitched up into a smile and it laughed.

"Why not just change your appearance and come looking like someone else?" Tsuzuki suggested fairly, looking about for the waiter who had yet to put in an appearance. Ichibana leaned back on its' elbows and sighed with its' eyes shut.

"I've done that before but who wants to go about their whole life pretendin' to be somethin' they ain't?" It said, which was also a very good point. "I'm not even the most beautiful creature about! Plenty of folks outshine me; I just got this history that makes me interestin' and all… Well anyway, I'm sorry I kept you all waiting. I imagine they're pretty much bored with me now."

"There's certainly enough entertainment on the floor." Hisoka remarked, pointing over towards the bar area. We all sat a moment and watched as Voldur tried to wrestle one of the vampires out of the room. This seemed quite a feat, considering how strong vampires are and how weedy Voldur was in comparison. He eventually flipped over, locked his ankles around the vamps neck and then proceeded to hurl the vampire out the door with his legs. I didn't know whether to laugh or sit there with my hand over my mouth as the doorman scuttled backwards like a crab and then elegantly curled over and back onto his feet, returning to his post to accompanying applause.

"What _is _he you suppose?" Hisoka asked, applauding just as loudly as anyone.

"You know… I've never asked." Tsuzuki said, eyes wide at the wonder of having not yet made this enquiry. Ichibana recognized this look instantly and shook its' lacquered fingernail in his face.

"Take my word for it; you'll sleep better not knowing."

Tsuzuki swallowed thickly and seemed content to leave it at that. He squirmed in his seat and shot an irritated look at Terazuma, who was sitting beside him. "Do you _really _have to scrunch up so close to me?" He hissed, curling his lip just to further indicate his displeasure. Terazuma bared his teeth in response.

"Don't think for a second it's because I _want _to, crybaby. I have to sit like this in case any girls walk past. I can't risk having them rub up against me accidentally."

Tatsumi huffed quietly to himself, eyes going from side to side behind his glasses as he perused the wine list. "That's certainly not something you hear a straight man say very often."

Saya burst out laughing and leant over the table, fluttering her hand urgently at Tsuzuki. "Hey, Tsuzuki! Remember for Terazuma's last birthday when you ordered that stripper for him?"

We all laughed at the memory of this, as it really had been a very funny thing. That laughter only increased when Tsuzuki proceeded to imitate Terazuma. Tsuzuki really is a remarkable mimic, able to stretch his face about to resemble almost anyone with whom he had a long history. And his gestures always matched the individual to a par, which is what made it so convincing and funny I suppose.

"'No! No! Don't touch me!'" Tsuzuki said, in a gruff tone that sounded exactly like Terazuma. The shape-shifting Shinigami clenched his teeth as we all cajoled merrily at his expense. "'Someone get her away for gods sake!'" Tsuzuki slapped the table, unable to continue with his impersonation for laughing. "She thought you were the biggest freak around!" He turned sideways in order to whisper from the side of his mouth, "Not that she was wrong, mind."

"What the hell did you just say?!" Terazuma shrieked, probably having seen the other Shinigami's mouth move. Tsuzuki put on an expression of innocent perplexity that would have sold if it had been directed at just about anyone but Terazuma.

"Oh, what? I didn't say anything…"

Terazuma's brows twitched with barely contained anger. "You dirty son of a-" He stopped there because our waiter chose this delicate moment as a chance to make his appearance.

He was a demon, as were most of the staff working at _Síné's_ and was recognizable as such through a variety of characteristics. Demons usually have very distinct and bright, irregularly colored eyes, with a cat shaped pupil that distended or dilated according to their mood. They had slightly pointed ears and four markedly sharp incisors in their upper row of teeth, as opposed to humans who have but two. Also, because most of their bodies are formed through a _mana _fusion process, a lot of the time the features can be exaggerated or misinterpreted.

This particular waiter had been assigned to us since our very first visit. He was Caucasian and spoke with a thick and very noticeable Cornish accent; though his Japanese was of course immaculate. He was amenable, polite, well spoken and friendly with us Shinigami. (Well, friendlier than most other demons I had ever met.)

Shinigami and Underdwellers had an unusual kind of relationship; much the same as American's and Canadians, I imagine. Shinigami, like Canadians, got to act moralistically highbrow whilst still enjoying all the benefits of being associated with the powerful supernatural and paranormal world. Underdwellers in turn looked down their noses at Shinigami and resented their demographic association with us. Our waiter had always been good to us and he was certainly the preferred choice when taking the rest of the staff into account. However, his friendly demeanour was due in no small part to our association with Ichibana. There is nothing an Underdweller desires more than a soul; in which the act of devouring enhanced their lifespan and power by a particular degree, depending on the nature and characteristics of the soul. Shinigami souls, I had heard, were prized amongst demons; partly because we were a bane to their antics and they liked being able to get one back at us every now and again but also, because we were more powerful than humans and immortal; which enhanced the flavor so to speak.

Our waiter, I knew, was on a human/Shinigami soul bind; which all demons were obliged to take by the Ministry if they wished to mainstream. He could devour the souls of other demons or lesser animals but he could not and was not permitted to interfere with the souls of human beings. I knew he must have been hungry and I sometimes didn't quite like the way he eyed us off. (That number of Shinigami had to be tempting for sure.) However, he was quite adept at self-restraint and nothing more sinister than a late drink was ever leveled at us. He didn't eat our souls and we left him a generous tip. It was a good arrangement.

He was a little taller than Tsuzuki, slender, with dark black hair, carefully combed back behind his ears. His particular physical abnormality was the exaggerated angles of his jaw and face. (Not taking into account the way he could turn his head and or upper torso around to face the other direction. Sometimes he'd turn his legs around and start walking away with his upper torso still facing us. It was rather startling if you weren't used to it). He had very high cheekbones and a well-defined jaw structure. He was nearly always smiling, his mouth curled into a peculiar bowed arrow shape and he wore glasses with an old fashioned chain that went back behind his neck, to keep them from falling off. By the lines on his face and the slight spreading of his hips, I would assume that his physical age was intended to be mid to late thirties.

Since this was a themed bar in the style of Dracula's castle, all the waiting staff dressed in period black suits that personally reminded me of a mortician. It had old-fashioned tails, a ruffled shirtfront and a carefully folded gray handkerchief in the uppermost pocket. A red rose was threaded through the lapel. The theme of _Sîné's_ was to make every customer feel as though they were honored guests in a Transylvanian mansion and the waiters and waitresses were actually dressed as butlers and maids. Since they were all intended to represent the undead however, all of their faces were painted with a pale foundation to make them appear washed out. Our waiter, with his already naturally pale English skin, didn't need a great deal of assistance with this.

He smiled down at us, sharp yellow eyes glittering from behind his glasses. "Good evening to you again, ladies and gentleman of the Summons Department." His voice was soft and smooth and as inviting as molt. You couldn't help but be charmed by such a creature and you might almost feel yourself relaxing until your eyes drifted to his empty right sleeve, folded up to the shoulder and pinned in place. He always had a special wry smile reserved especially for when someone noticed his missing arm and got a little shock from it.

The waiter bowed, splaying his gloved fingers across his broad chest. "We are most humbled to receive you. My name is Orias Crowley and I will be tending to your every need tonight. Please don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can get you to make your stay more enjoyable. Would you care to order dri-"

Ichibana reached up and slapped the waiter smartly across the mouth. Everyone gasped in horror, except for Tsuzuki and I, who had been expecting no less. The djinni glared up at the server, who stared back at it in polite surprise.

"Dear guest, have I perchance done something to offend you in so short a time?"

Ichibana's eyes narrowed sharply at the corners and it put its' hands airily against its hips. "Yes, your "dear guest" is _very _offended, Mr. Crowley. Two weeks without so much as a call? What do you have to say for yerself?"

Orias blinked back expressionlessly, using his handkerchief to dab at the red mark on his face before reaching back to carefully smooth his hair once more. Finally, when he was at least physically reposed, he deigned to answer. "I… wasn't of the impression that I was inclined to philander to you."

"I hardly think that a courtesy call to your lover is asking too much, Orias!"

Orias closed his eyes and proceeded to smile that always strange and indecipherable Noh smile. I describe it as such because the face takes on the same countenance as a Noh mask whose features are frozen. Its' purpose being that customers were able to interpret it however they wished. The staff at _Sîné's_ were trained in much the same manner as hosts or geisha and it was their primary responsibility to ensure the satisfaction and happiness of their clientele, so you can imagine how often they have relied on this practiced expression. "Guest, you are being emotional. If you wish to have a personal discussion with me, then I would of course be glad to accommodate you in a more timely sett –" His head snapped sideways again as Ichibana clouted the other side of his face, bestowing a matching mark. The djinni looked so incensed I could just about see steam coming off of its skin and its' teeth were clenched together like two strings of iridescent pearls.

"Don't you go pulling that character shit with me, I'm _not _in the mood." It snarled, arms crossed and one long finger jabbing the demon in the chest. Orias gingerly felt his cheek and then turned his face back towards Ichibana. The smile dropped as easily and effortlessly as a piece of paper and I knew then that the façade had been cast aside.

"You slap me again and there'll be trouble, Ichibana." The demon warned, glancing about to see if anyone else had taken notice of their tiff. "I have to _work _now, I'm simply not entitled to indulge my personal life in the workplace. In fifteen minutes, I have a break. We can discuss it then."

"Discuss…?" The djinni shot back in disgust. "What's to discuss? Just tell me now why you haven't called." Its' arms lowered from their tense hold and tightened around its' slender midsection in an uncharacteristically self-doubting pose. "Are we through?"

Orias was always a sensible; no nonsense sort of individual that didn't care to mince words and now was no exception. "Oh, don't be so damn neurotic." He said, tucking his handkerchief carefully back into his upper pocket and readjusting his glasses. "Not everything concerns you, you realize. One of our prominent staff members was killed a little over two weeks ago, so I'm having to cover all the extra shifts. I went to Watari-san's apartment one or two times and left some letters explaining myself. Surely you received them?"

"Letters?" Ichibana turned on me with a look that could strike twin holes through a boulder. "Don't tell me you threw them out?!"

I held up my hands in innocence. "We didn't get any letters I swear."

Ichibana swung back to fix that menacing stare on poor, ever so patient Orias. "Well, either someone stole them, or you're feeding me bull honky."

"Apartment 306, correct?"

"No… 302."

"Um… 306 is _my _apartment." Tsuzuki piped up from just behind Ichibana's rear. He winced as though suddenly becoming aware of something. "Wait, those letters weren't in plain envelopes with a little red ribbon on the corner, were they?"

Orias sighed, caressing the bridge of his nose with gloved fingers. "Yes. I must have gotten your apartments mixed up."

Tsuzuki groaned, looking truly contrite in place of Orias. "Oh, I'm sorry Orias-san. I thought they were from the Count, so I threw them out without even looking at them."

The demon dabbed his hand at him. "That's all right. It's my fault." He looked down at Ichibana, features softening considerably. "I do apologize. It wasn't my intention to leave you in the lurch."

It was Ichibana's turn to sigh as it ran its' hands up over the back of its' neck, jerking its head from side to side as though attempting to loosen its hold to the spinal cord. "Well, that's fine I guess… but… couldn't you have sent a message to Watari's phone?"

Orias gave a crooked, embarrassed smile that I couldn't help but respond to, deep down in my belly. "You know I'm not very good when it comes to technology…" He ducked down a little, to force his eyes upon Ichibana's and remained so until the djinni cracked a smile. "That's one of the things you and I have in common."

Ichibana chuckled, seeming finally set to relent in its' bad mood. "So I haven't been pissin' you off then?"

"Darling, you always piss me off. But that's you. If it were something I couldn't live with, then I wouldn't still be standing here." Orias reached over to pull one of Ichibana's hands away from its' neck and drew back its' sleeve in order to kiss the inside of its' wrist. "Come now, you're being very silly and getting yourself all worked up over nothing. You know how I feel about you. I was certain you were secure in that much."

"You're right, of course." Ichibana reached out, setting its other hand on Orias chest, gently clutching the material of his shirt between its' fist. "You're not so cheap as to bugger off without giving an explanation." It sighed, eyes creasing downward as it finally looked up into the demons gently contortioned features. "Honey, I'm sorry I was angry. You really must get so frustrated with me."

Orias smiled and there was nothing indecipherable about it. " It's all right. I'm glad we've worked things out." He hissed slightly through his teeth as he glanced about, drawn back to the reality of where he was. "And speaking of work, I _really _should be getting back to it or Rook will have my soul. How about a China Shop on me?" A China Shop was Ichibana's favorite cocktail and a sure fire way to put it in a good mood.

"That sounds lovely." The djinni said, running its' fingers over Orias' throat before plonking itself back down into its' seat. "Add a few drops of Aura Demon's blood if you've got it."

"As you wish, madam." Orias said, smirking as he bowed and then swiftly regained character as he turned on the rest of us with maidenly flourish. "Pardon the delay, dear guests. Have you had ample time to survey the wine list?"

Tsuzuki smiled up at him, obviously amused by the previous display. "Yeah, I think we're good to go."

"Excellent." Orias said, pulling a notepad out of his pocket. A pen floated up out of the same pocket and poised on the page, ready to write. Orias had at some stage of his long life, learnt a little telekinesis in order to be able to work with only one arm. One by one we all placed our orders and watched as the pen whipped about on the page, jotting them down. When we were done, the pen recapped itself and slid neatly back into the demons pocket. Orias put the pad away and bowed deeply.

"Thankyou, very much." He said. "I shall return shortly with your drinks. Until then, please just relax and enjoy yourselves."

"Orias?"

The demon turned back and stared down at Ichibana, who was tapping its' fingernail against its' bottom lip. Orias seemed to stint on it, glancing about anxiously for any sign of its' superiors.

"It's rather improper in the workplace…"

The djinni snorted. "Oh darling, don't try and hand me that; we're in a Paranormal bar. Besides, I hardly think that Rook is going to mind. Just a quick one."

"It's not Rook so much that concerns me," Orias murmured, loosening his tie a little as though suddenly taking notice of the heat in the room. Nonetheless, a smile graced his features and it was with one last quick glance around, that the demon leant over as though bowing and gently took Ichibana's chin between his thumb and finger. "You do know how bad you are for me, don't you?" He kissed the djinni twice on the mouth gently and then once on the tip of its' nose. "Oh and by the by, have I not told you once before to dress less invitingly when you come in here?" At this, the demon proceeded to hastily shrug out of his jacket and throw it over Ichibana, tucking in all the corners to hide as much of the djinni's body as possible. Ichibana looked amused, rather than offended. "You're going to make everyone's blood boil and that's something none of us need, no matter how esteemed a bouncer Voldur is. I won't be held responsible if a vampire takes a liking to your neck if you insist on sashaying it about like that."

"Oh, don't be so old-fashioned, Orias." Ichibana scolded, rolling down the jacket and letting it lie across its' lap. "I'm not the only one here that's dressed up."

Orias rolled its' eyes as though it thought Ichibana were being purposefully naïve. "_No_ but you are the one who has a history, don't ever forget that. And Vondel is still anxious for another opportunity to make good on his offer and I for one, do not want to give him any encouragement." Vondel was possibly the most well-known and powerful Merger demon in the greater area of Japan and had expressed more than a passing interest in becoming Ichibana's patron for some time. The fact that Orias, a low level, considerably normal in appearance and absent one arm had gained the djinni's much desired attention had resulted in nothing short of a bitter relationship between the pair, which did nothing whatsoever to help Orias' situation. As he had so often said, he was not so powerful an Underdweller that he could afford to have one that was considerably more powerful, angry with him. And his courtship with Ichibana had been taken as a veritable spit in Vondel's eye, at least from his skewed point of view.

Ichibana smiled sympathetically at Orias and must have decided to humor him, because the next moment it was sliding the jacket on over its' shoulders. "Babe, you have nothing to worry about. I have eyes… and slutty outfits, for you only." Once the jacket was on, it reached over to give Orias a playful swat on the backside. "Hurry now slave! The drinks!"

Despite this provocative action, Orias managed to remain composed and bowed deeply, glancing up to offer only the smallest of smiles. "I shall be back in a moment." He straightened up and then headed off in the direction of the bar, Ichibana watching the back of his slacks the entire time. Konoe meanwhile, had engaged me in conversation concerning my impending trip into the Ancient Capital.

"So, are you all packed up and ready for tomorrow, Watari?"

"Yeah, yeah, all set to go." I said, twirling some hair about my finger and noticing that I had missed a rather large kink in the base. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit nervous though."

Terazuma huffed from deep in his throat. "Can't say I blame ya. They were pretty nasty murders." He leaned in, lowering his voice to try and block out the conflicting noise of the club. "You don't think that Muraki might be involved, do you? I mean, he and Mibu are supposed to be friends and all."

"The thought crossed my mind but I don't think that he is." Tsuzuki said from across the table. Tatsumi turned to him with a raised brow, taking a moment to adjust his glasses.

"What makes you so sure?" He asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"I'm _not _sure. It's just a feeling I have…" Tsuzuki said, talking almost to himself, it seemed. "I don't think Mibu would have called us up to come deal with the murders if Muraki had perpetuated them. He'd just cover them up, wouldn't he?"

"Unless…" Saya drawled, leaning forward conspiratorially. "_Unless_ Muraki and Mibu are working together. And the murders were committed in order to trick some hapless Shinigami; aka: Tsuzuki, into turning up to investigate them and then Muraki kidnaps you and that's all she wrote." She sat back with a satisfied expression on her face and took a sip of water as Tsuzuki spluttered ridiculously in the wake of her so-called 'logic'.

Ever the challenging type, I took this opportunity to poke holes in her argument. "Well… that would be all well and good if Tsuzuki worked the 6th area… _but _he doesn't." I drew a circle over my own chest and then jabbed my finger through the middle of it to indicate just who in fact was in charge of Area 6. "And Muraki knows that. He already tried that trick once in Tsuzuki's division. All he would get now is the booby prize in yours truly."

Wakaba gasped melodramatically, holding her sleeve up to her mouth. "Or maybe Mibu knows that Muraki committed the murders and he asked the Shinigami to step in to stop him because he can't do it himself."

"There are those possibilities to consider, of course." Konoe said, more seriously then this conversation deserved to be taken.

Saya burst out laughing, waving her hand over the table towards both Tsuzuki and I. "Or maybe Muraki's gotten over Tsuzuki and now he's after _you_, Watari."

The others all laughed at this but I quite thought it wasn't the least bit funny! Or true, considering how Muraki had been carrying on with Tsuzuki all evening mind. But they weren't to know that, of course.

"That's not funny!" I shrieked, but this only made them laugh harder. "That is _so _not funny."

Tsuzuki was laughing just as hard as any of them, though his voice had a slightly high hysterical pitch that I recognized as nervousness. "No, no that suits me just fine. You take Muraki, all good here."

"Yes, I'm sure." I said, rolling my eyes and looking over to the dance floor where two of the clubs chief entertainers were performing an animated jive, for as much their own amusement as anyone watching I would imagine. Everyone had just settled down when Terazuma shot all that to hell and got everyone laughing again, though what he said it was borderline cruel, really.

"Tsuzuki, are you sure you really wanna pass over the only person in the _entire _world that wants to have sex with you? I mean, Watari can find 'em anywhere- " I turned back around to flash him my most offended look but he was still staring at Tsuzuki, "-but _you_ man, you need to take what you can get."

Tsuzuki flushed red but he must have been feeling better because he didn't take that insult lying down like he had that morning. "Like _you're _one to talk, freak. Besides there's always…" He thought about this for a while and then suddenly burst into uncontrollable giggles. "– the Count!"

That of course set us all off again. Tatsumi sighed, taking his glasses off so that he could rub the corners of his eyes, which looked a little bloodshot and rimmed by those ever-present dark bags, indicative of physical exhaustion. I doubted that a night out was the right medicine for Tatsumi. A decent nights sleep would have gone much further towards improving his mood. And maybe a shag here and there wouldn't go astray either but I wasn't sure how to broach the subject delicately with him.

"Are we sure we really need to bring alcohol into the situation?" He murmured, sliding his glasses back on. Wakaba, who was sitting beside him, nudged his upper arm with her shoulder. Wakaba was always able to strike that perfect level with anyone she spoke to and remained one of the very few people that could talk freely with Tatsumi and not worry about offending him. Not even Tsuzuki got away with this all of the time and he had a definite advantage over most of us.

"Yes, Tatsumi-san! You're going to have a nice time tonight and I think a drink or two will go a long way towards helping you relax." Wakaba said, offering him one of her gentle smiles, obviously hoping to put him in the right frame of mind. Tatsumi sighed even more deeply than he had before but seemed resigned to his fate, because he sank back into his seat with a defeated sort of look on his face.

"I'm counting down until I'm old enough to have a drink." Hisoka said, flashing Tatsumi an expression that suggested he ought not take such luxuries for granted. "God knows it'll help me deal with Tsuzuki after he gets going."

Tsuzuki gaped open mouth from his side of the table. "Hisoka, that's mean!"

"And you _have_ gotten drunk on…" I had to think about this for a minute, "-more than one occasion if I remember right, bon."

Terazuma pointed his finger at me accusingly. "No one trusts your memory, man. Don't worry kid, you're in the clear." He gave Hisoka's shoulder a friendly shake. I leaned across the table, sticking my own finger in his face and it wasn't my index finger either, I might add.

"You. Are asking for it _bud_-" Whatever Terazuma was asking for was unfortunately left to introspection because it was then that Orias turned up being followed by the chief entertainer of _Sîné's; _the Jack of Spades. (The group of central entertainers in the club were referred to as the Royal Flush and bore individual card symbols on either their body or uniform). Jack always made me think of a Halloween Pumpkin; not because he particularly looked like one, you understand but because he had deep orange hair and a perpetually wide mouthed grin with sharp teeth, which made him resemble a carving. He was dressed as usual in elaborate pinstriped pants, a blue top hat with a feather and a tight tailored jacket that one couldn't help but associate with the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. His face was painted up to resemble a jester from Medieval times, with purple tear drops seeming to literally ooze down from the crease of his left eye and gothic dark makeup used in place of usually more festive colors.

Jack was a remarkable entertainer, quite unlike any other. He was slender like the branch of a willow, with elegant, slow-moving fingers, and a very long face he could move about in extraordinary ways. And he was a phenomenal dancer, seeming to bounce effortlessly up off of his feet without seemingly any effort. It was very rare to see him standing still and now was one of those rare instances; he stood beside Orias as he prepared our drinks for us at the table, one long finger pressed to his chin and eyes set resolutely on Wakaba. Nearly anyone would have agreed that Wakaba was a lovely woman, but very few people would have paid her the slightest attention in the presence of someone like Ichibana; so I can't say exactly what had caught Jack's eye. But he certainly seemed to be very taken with her and Wakaba couldn't pretend not to notice the attention and seemed incredibly self conscious, fingers brushing over the light blush that had appeared on her neck.

Fortunately, Orias had noticed her discomfort and took it upon himself to explain.

"Miss, my associates and I were just admiring the beautiful kimono you're wearing." He said, seeming to break Jack out of whatever trance he had lulled himself into. The colorful man came bouncing back into reality and seemed rather surprised to find himself having zoned out for quite some time.

"Indeed." He chirruped, clapping his gloved hands together with genuine pleasure. I myself was surprised and a little disappointed that Wakaba hadn't received this admiration based on her own merits. "I came here from Peru quite expecting to see more women in traditional Japanese attire and yet hardly anyone goes about it in. I must say, it's quite refreshing to see such a beautiful piece."

I hadn't really looked closely at Wakaba until now, but she was wearing an extraordinary pale-pink kimono, which was spotted below the waist with white and purple flowers, set against an image of mountains and a flowing river in the light of the moon. No ones attire, not even Ichibana's revealing outfit could compare with it. Tatsumi seemed to think so as well, (apparently having failed to notice it until someone had drawn attention to it) because he asked her to stand and model it. Wakaba stood very modestly and turned around once.

"I figured that I don't go out very much, so I might as well make use of one of the only expensive outfits I do have," she said, as a means of explanation. "Most of my other clothes aren't very glamorous."

"If you hadn't been so frank with us, Wakaba-san," Ichibana said, "we might have thought this was your usual attire."

Wakaba chuckled sweetly. "Oh, no. I've never worn a kimono this beautiful in my life. I only just paid it off last week. You won't believe what they expected me to pay originally, but a Shinigami will never have the money, so it doesn't make any difference, now does it?"

I could see that Tatsumi was amused – he was old fashioned and understood that a woman in Japan was never usually so upfront as to talk about the cost of a kimono in front of a man. He smiled into his glass of wine as Orias passed it to him – via telekinesis of course – and indicated with his free hand that Wakaba could sit again. He turned to say something to her, but Yuma interrupted.

"Is there going to be a show on tonight, or have we missed it?" She asked Orias, who was mentally stirring Tsuzuki and Ichibana's cocktails in midair. "One of those big shot demonic bands, or something?"

Orias pursed his lip slightly. "I prefer a less provocative title then 'demonic'." He said, with a small smile.

"I'm sure you would." Ichibana said, allowing its' cigarette to be lit by Jack. Saya coughed a little but Ichibana did a very high kick, the toe of its' shoe hitting the wall behind its' head where a 'Smoking Area' sign was posted. "Sorry love. I win out."

I gestured for it to pass one over to me and Orias lit it, giving the end a quick suck before popping it between my lips. I'd gotten used to this provocative behavior some time ago but Hisoka, Saya and Yuma all looked a little surprised by it.

"To answer your question," Orias continued, indicating for Tsuzuki's very colorful drink to float down into his eagerly waiting hands. "The show _has _finished for the night, so I'm afraid that you shall either have to find entertainment amongst yourselves or you are more than welcome to take to the dance floor."

"Now, now Orias; you mustn't be so ungracious to our guests!" Of course it was the Marquee Alban's in all his glittery glory. He came flouncing over to the table, causing Ichibana to shrink back for fear of being roped into doing something yet again. "It is by no fault of theirs what time they should have arrived! Why, they are just as entitled to enjoy our high entertainment standards as are any of our patrons here this evening."

Orias gave a thin, yet patient smile and politely inclined his head. "I apologize if this sounded rude, _monsieur_. I would politely remind you however that many of the entertainers have retired for the evening and I hardly feel it would be prudent of me to ask of them to perform again."

Alban's brushed Orias' words aside as if they were no more consequential than smoke. "Oh no, no, no, no, _no _my dear boy, no! I would hardly suggest such a thing! What I propose is that in their stead, you might do so well as to oblige your guests. You are not without your own gifts, son. Mind you use them if you wish to stay in our patrons good graces!"

Orias' smile had started to look just the slightest bit strained and his eyes had developed some tell tale wrinkles about the corners. "With all due respect, my Lord, I hardly think that these fine patrons of ours would indulge my voice when they no doubt wish only to speak and listen to one another."

"Are you a singer?" Wakaba asked, gently taking her fruity cocktail out of the air as it bobbed beside her head. Orias went to extraordinary pains to appear modest.

"My dear, I wouldn't ever claim to be so grand a thing. I am as you see me and little else more."

Ichibana smiled, reaching out to pet the demon on the side of his arm. "Now, you mustn't be so humble. Orias may not be a performer here but that is only on account of his… little peculiarity." It demonstrated by giving Orias' empty sleeve a light bat with the back of its' hand, causing it to sway momentarily. Rather than look offended, Orias only nodded in a tired, accepting sort of manner. "I'm most fortunate in that, I think. Orias has often lulled me to sleep with a song. He has a lovely voice."

"Indeed he does." The Marquee heartily agreed, giving Orias a jovial slap on the back that almost slammed him face first into our table. "Why not indulge our dear guests tonight with a short piece? Now, there is no need to be embarrassed; talented as you are."

Orias cleared his throat and straightened his ruffle, appearing quite indignant and put out at being offered up this way. Nonetheless, he was obliged to do as his superior requested and so with a dissuasive sniffle and a sigh, the demon glanced about and did his utmost to look as though serenading us would have brought him nothing but unequivocal delight.

"Well then, was there anything in particular that you might wish to hear this evening?" He asked and I was _so _very tempted to request "Candy Pop in Love", just to see how this might sound coming from the mouth of an ever so composed demon. But I supposed Ichibana would not allow me to live long enough to witness it.

Ichibana looked up from its' drink and smiled supportively at its' obviously embarrassed partner. "Honey, why don't you sing that lovely song from 'The Phantom of the Opera'? You remember… when I was lying on your couch that one night and I was so burnt out and tired I thought nothin' would improve my mood? You sang it so beautiful…"

This brought a true smile to the demon's lips as he gazed fondly down at his exquisite lover. "It _is _a lovely song, isn't it?" He gazed about at us. "It's in English; I suppose you all should appreciate the sound of the words, even if you don't understand precisely what I am saying."

I could speak and understand English perfectly, so I would be getting the most out of this performance in that sense. However, once Orias started singing, the melancholic, haunting melody in which his sultry voice rose and fell could have evaded no one in its' loveliness; be they fluent in the language or not. Alban's was certainly right in recognizing the demon's talent; and what a pity that it was not on display for the appreciation of the entire club, whom nonetheless had all fallen into near silence at the sound of his voice.

_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye_

_Remember me_

_Once in a while_

_Please promise me you'll try_

_When you find that once again_

_You long to take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find a moment_

_Spare a thought for me_

_We never said our love was evergreen_

_Or as unchanging as the sea_

_But if you can still remember_

_Stop and think of me_

_Think of all the things we've shared and seen_

_Don't think about the way things might have been_

_Think of me,_

_Think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned_

_Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind_

_Recall those days_

_Look back on all those times_

_Think of the things we'll never do_

_There will never be a day_

_When I won't think of you_

_Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade_

_They have their seasons, so do we_

_But please promise me that sometimes_

_You will think_

_Of me_

There seemed to be something sad and final in the way he sang, not to mention in the way that he looked at Ichibana as the words spilled from his lips. But no sooner had I contemplated this, then Orias' face smoothed back out into its' normally serene and composed expression and he offered a modest nod to the scattered applause he received.

"That was beautiful!" Yuma sighed, one hand pressed to her heart as though it were pounding out of control. "The way you sing… you have a voice that any woman could fall for!"

Ichibana smiled privately and I imagine that it hadn't taken notice of Orias' seeming contriteness during the song, as I had. "I'd like to think so." It reached over to take the demon's hand and distribute a light squeeze into the palm. "Thankyou, darling. That was very kind of ye."

Orias lowered his head and bit his lip with a shy smile. "I'm awful embarrassed." He confessed, using one finger to loosen his collar.

"There's no reason to be embarrassed." Konoe said supportively, which was strange considering that he wasn't, by his own admission, the biggest fan of the Underdwellers. I believe he recognized in Orias an old fashioned gentleman and a mildness that wasn't the stereotypical characteristic of demons. "We're very flattered and honored that you sang for us. And well, with a voice like that! You really should be performing here rather than taking drink orders!"

Orias chanced a look over his shoulder at Alban's, who was now speaking with some of the patrons who had also apparently taken an interest in the impromptu performance. "Being the head steward is far more involved and complex than simply taking drink orders, sir. And there's no one who has better organisational skills than myself, so that's where my attentions are directed. My particular… whimsical talents are reserved for an… _elite _and exclusive audience alone." He gave a relaxed smile but his eyes were slanted at an angle that left him looking a little sinister, as if he knew some secret that the rest of us were not privy to. "But your words are very thoughtful and I thankyou for them."

"Well then, now that you have indulged the rest of them, how about some private entertainment for one of your more _exclusive_ clients?" Ichibana asked, plucking its' drink out of the air and taking a sip from it, whilst eying Orias over the lip of the glass. Orias stared back, seeming to contemplate this and then glanced around to see if any of his fellow working staff aside from Jack was in immediate earshot.

"During my break. _Maybe_." He warned, shaking a finger as Ichibana beamed back, fluttering its' eyelashes. "If I don't think it will get me fired…" He muttered out of the corner of his mouth, passing the girls fruity cocktails over and then mine and Konoe and Terazuma's beers.

"Well that's just a risk you'll have to take… if you want to do any _firing _of your own in the foreseeable future." Ichibana said slyly, stirring its' cocktail with its' finger and then provocatively sucking on it. All the boys in the group (including yours truly) shifted and crossed their legs. Orias' expression didn't change an iota but he went significantly darker and made a very awkward and fussy bow, before passing over Hisoka's tea and then shuffling back towards the bar amidst our laughing guffaws.

"I propose a toast," Saya said, holding up her cocktail glass. We all followed suit. "To us; for getting Tatsumi to come out tonight. And to Watari; best of luck on your investigation tomorrow."

"Kampai." Konoe said and we all raised our glasses and drank. Terazuma lit up his own cigarette, appearing unusually contrite.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay, man?"

I blew out a cloud of smoke and waved my hand to clear it from my line of sight. "Please Terazuma, don't start acting concerned about me. I think we'll all die of a heart attack."

"Give me a good reason _not _to be concerned! A dupe like _you_ is being sent off with only one of the Gushoshin to chase up what's obviously a certified maniac and in the company of a guy whose arm in arm with that Muraki bastard." Terazuma sighed, pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead. "I just get the feeling we're underestimating the situation you're being sent into."

Wakaba looked touched by his concern. "Oh, Hajime. I wouldn't be worrying too much about Watari." She reached over to give me a little biff in the shoulder. "You know how plucky he is."

"Plucky is the right word for Watari," Tsuzuki said. It was a welcome change to the conversation. "Two years ago, when Hisoka first joined the Ministry of Hades we celebrated by sneaking him into a club. Watari and I got blotto and ending up climbing onstage to dance! He was so brave about it but I was shaking in my shoes!"

Cheers, Tsuzuki.

"You danced?" Asked Yuma, her attention caught by the conversation. "When you were out of your mind drunk?"

"Knowing Tsuzuki, I can't say it comes as a surprise!" Saya said, chuckling merrily to herself. Tsuzuki laughed also.

"Hey, we got quite an enthusiastic response," He told her. "What I didn't realize until later, when Tatsumi bothered to take me aside and explain a few things to me, was that our routine may have been considered by some to be rather… um…"

"Suggestive," I said, deciding to be straightforward about it. "We used to just make up routines sometimes when we had nothing better to do during break and we even threw in some dance moves from a music video we'd seen." I smirked at Tsuzuki. "We thought we were just being rather silly and had no idea at the time why the poor Kid was so embarrassed."

"Or why the Deejay was sweating so hard," Tsuzuki added, looking towards the roof thoughtfully. "Here I am, probably the most inexperienced guy when it comes to figuring those sorts of things out and I was doing all sorts of lewd movements! I even remember the song that was playing… In fact," He smiled in a mischievous manner that somehow still managed to make him seem charming. "Why don't I just go have a little chat with the deejay now?"

I groaned, reaching out to grab his sleeve but missing as he jumped to his feet. "Tsuzuki, no! I haven't had nearly enough to drink for that! Besides, do we really want to be subjecting these kind people to that sort of nonsense?"

"Absolutely!" Yuma cheered supportively, hoisting her cocktail high above her head. "We could use some live entertainment in this joint! Knock us for a loop, fellas!"

I noticed Tatsumi was starting to appear rather flushed and was considerably loosening the knot in his tie. "Now, now… are you sure this is really appropriate behavior for-_ Oi! _Tsuzuki!" For Tsuzuki had already weaved his way between the throngs of bopping, mingling people and was chatting to the dark skinned fellow behind the control panel. I groaned as I saw the deejay nod and smile agreeably, feeling my face flush in preemptive embarrassment.

"Oh dear God," I murmured, skulling down my entire drink in one go and then downing Tsuzuki's as well. "Bon? Run for your life."

"What?" Hisoka asked, looking up from his tea and seeming quite oblivious to everything that was going on about us.

"He's going to make us do it all over again."

All the blood appeared to drain from Hisoka, Terazuma and Tatsumi's faces in unison, which seemed quite funny to me, when you considered that Wakaba, Saya and Yuma were openly applauding the impending debacle. Sure enough, not ten seconds later, Tsuzuki came sashaying back through the crowd and with an impish smile, reached down to clasp my hands between his own.

"Come on Watari! Ichibana told us to let loose! This is the perfect way to forget our troubles!"

"Sure, blame it all on me." Ichibana muttered but I could see it smile into its' cocktail, which I took for a blessing of sorts.

To be honest, I had been contemplating at least two dozen reasons as to why I couldn't possibly get up on stage with the pole and Tsuzuki and bump and grind along to the best (worst) of my ability. It was embarrassing for me, mainly because Tsuzuki was a naturally talented dancer, though his specific area of expertise was ballroom which was somewhat removed from what we would be doing. I, on the other hand, couldn't jive my way out of an epileptic clinic. If I had to dance, I suppose it could only be defined as hip swishing, pelvis thrusting, freeform that required no real talent. When Tsuzuki danced on the other hand, you could imagine the whole world stopping to watch. He possessed a natural grace and control of his body that you couldn't help but appreciate. The only reason why people would stop to watch me would probably be… oh, I don't know, to see whether or not I had been tazered or some such thing.

But then that night was about having fun and trying to put our minds at ease. Tsuzuki wanted to reassert some control, to act bravely now as a means of compensating for having been so frightened by Muraki. And me? Well… there was so much this dance could do for me. I would feel stronger, sexier, more in control and powerful. With that in mind, I accepted Tsuzuki's hands and allowed him to lead me towards the stage, not failing to notice as I did that we had, (for the most part) the entirety of the small clubs attentions. Tsuzuki had his heart set on an exhibition and it had been so long since we had done anything together as friends. Since Hisoka had come along, Tsuzuki and I have spent less and less time together, which of course is natural at the beginning of a fresh partnership. But I guess maybe he too had noticed this empty chasm and was now seeking a means also to remedy it. This dance, comical, ridiculous and sexy was something that _we _shared alone and as such, something that could hastily reaffirm the bond between us. I think that was very important in a time in which we seemed to be so rapidly drifting away from one another on the tide.

Tsuzuki beamed at me as we climbed onto the stage and that familiar feisty, rhythmic beat began to pound throughout the interior of the club. It was a catchy tune and my body seemed to remember all the movements of its' own accord; every thrust, dip, grind and curve. I admit; I purposefully intended to sexualize the dance as much as possible, simply for the boost of confidence it gave not only to myself but to Tsuzuki as well. It was apparent to me (though not to Tsuzuki, obviously) that a great deal of people in the club were jealous of my being so close to him; handsome and yet innocently sweet as he was.

The dance was perfectly coordinated, set to a synchronization that involved us being in close body contact for the majority of the song, with lots of facial expression that seemed to indicate that the audience might have indeed caught us in the midst of having mind-blowing sex. I could only smile evilly to myself, thinking of the effect this was having on poor Tatsumi; whose feelings for Tsuzuki had been obvious to everyone except the object of affection himself. Sure enough, when I glanced over at a particularly lusty portion of the routine, which involved my shimmying my groin against Tsuzuki's backside, I noticed Tatsumi's face clearly reddening as he took overly deep and hefty intakes of his drink. I wonder; could it have looked any more like a fangirl tease? And I'm not sure how Tsuzuki might have felt about being the central object of such communal lust but I admit to feeling a certain sense of power; understanding the effect we were having on people and liking it. I didn't have a great deal of metaphysical power but by God, that night; I felt for the first time that I may very well have been capable of winning Mibu's attentions. I couldn't imagine that he, even _him_, would be impervious to such a sight! Ichibana was right; it was a great night to be alive!

_I'm saying all the things that I know you'll like  
Making good conversation  
I gotta handle you just right  
You know what I mean  
I took you to an intimate restaurant  
Then to a suggestive movie  
There's nothing left to talk about  
Unless it's horizontally_

_Let's get physical, physical  
I wanna get physical  
Let's get into physical  
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk  
Let me hear your body talk_

_I've been patient, I've been good  
Tried to keep my hands on the table  
It's gettin' hard this holdin' back  
If you know what I mean_

I'm sure you'll understand my point of view  
We know each other mentally  
You gotta know that you're bringin' out  
The animal in me

Let's get physical, physical  
I wanna get physical  
Let's get into physical  
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk  
Let me hear your body talk

Let's get physical, physical  
I wanna get physical  
Let's get into physical  
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk  
Let me hear your body talk

_Let's get physical, physical  
I wanna get physical  
Let's get into physical  
Let me hear your body talk, your body talk  
Let me hear your body talk_

Let's get animal, animal  
I wanna get animal  
Let's get into animal  
Let me hear your body talk  
Let me hear your body talk

For the final few bars of the song, Tsuzuki and I stood with our backs to the 'audience' (unwitting hostages, would perhaps be more appropriate) swishing our hips from side to side in unison and flicking our wrists back and forth before then bringing our arms above our heads in a pretense of erotica and sliding our hands down our bodies with our eyes shut, as though discovering ourselves for the very first time. I spun and clasped the sides of Tsuzuki's torso between my hands and splayed my fingers across his chest before spinning him beneath my arms and then crushing our bodies together, his leg arching up as though overcome with unbridled ecstasy as the music strummed to a close. We posed as such in the ensuring silence and then slowly unfurled from one another, panting from the physical exertion of the song. Someone wolf whistled from the crowd and then sure enough that set the rest off, and we left the stage to a fanfare of wildly clapping hands and lust filled bellows of support. Tsuzuki smiled shyly as he was surrounded by the adoring throngs (an equal mix of male and female) and I could only chuckle as I naturally avoided accosting and managed to wend back to my seat. Yuma and Saya were among the loudest of the caterwaulers and Yuma had her fingers in her mouth, whistling enthusiastically as I sat myself down. Wakaba laughed sweetly and clapped her fingertips together to show her appreciation. Terazuma looked positively offended and had nothing more to say than an indignant 'huh' as he submerged himself within what looked like his fourth beer. Hisoka had his face pressed into the table so hard I wondered if his nose was indented into the wood and Tatsumi was trying to look unimpressed but his red features betrayed his true feelings. Konoe was too busy being chatted up by a scantily dressed Chinese waitress to pay any attention to my arrival. I looked back over at Tsuzuki who was being petted and congratulated from all angles and for once, he didn't appear disconcerted by the attention either. Receiving it from people other than Muraki and the Count must have come as a relief to him for once. A number of vampires were staring at him as though he were a steak dinner and not bothering to hide the way that they licked their lips. Tsuzuki looked very shy and vulnerable and edible. Not that I was unaccustomed to seeing people looking at him in this manner.

Saya was delighted. "That was _awesome_!" She squealed, passing me over a beer she must have bought while we were up on the stage. I thanked her and took a deep gulp, enjoying the feel of the cool liquid on my parched throat. Tsuzuki finally managed to wrangle his way over and he accepted his own beer, partaking with even greater enthusiasm then myself. Tatsumi, I noticed, was glowering at him and didn't seem the least bit impressed. Now, I wasn't at all remiss of Tatsumi's feelings for Tsuzuki but I wouldn't have pegged him for suddenly becoming a possessive asshole.

Hisoka turned his head sideways so that the table wouldn't muffle his voice. "I'm actually surprised the two of your weren't booted out of the club."

Tsuzuki laughed, blushing out of embarrassment. "Oh, I didn't at all have a clue how it might have appeared to everyone else! I was an innocent party to the whole affair!" He added coyly, off to the side. "Well, at least I was that _first _time."

Under the cover of the others laughter, I put my beer down and leaned over the table towards Tatsumi, who still hadn't said anything and was looking increasingly more sour by the second. "What crawled up _your _ass and died? Everyone else here is having a good time tonight, why are you so intent on bringing the mood down?"

Tatsumi scowled and glared at me with his blue eyes as cold and sharp as ice. It wasn't difficult to see that he felt jealous but he had no right to be such a pain when he wasn't the least bit prepared to make a move on Tsuzuki himself. I thought he meant to say something, he certainly looked set to hit me with some underhand rebuke but a moment passed and he seemed to deflate and sank back into his seat, swirling the remains of his wine and staring dolefully into his glass.

"I'm sorry… don't mind me." He contemplated his drink for a moment longer and then brought it to his lips and swiftly drained the last of it. He dabbed his mouth on his handkerchief and then climbed to his feet, grabbing his suit jacket and folding it over his arm. "That was a very interesting dance. And thankyou everyone for a lovely evening but I'd best be going."

Wakaba must have recognized that the mood had mellowed because she was on her feet in a flash and was hastily extricating Tatsumi's jacket and replacing her own hand over his forearm. "Oh no you don't! I'm not finished with you just yet mister!" She scolded, waving her finger reprovingly before his face. "We haven't even had a dance yet! What kind of a man just swans out of a function before asking a lady to dance? Honestly! Sometimes I get the impression that you're not half the gentleman you pretend to be! Come on then."

Well, there wasn't anything that anyone could do when Wakaba got her motor running; she was an undeniable force to be reckoned with. Tatsumi could only gabble a few unintelligible monosyllables before he was heartily yanked onto the dance floor, casting furtive, helpless glances over his shoulder in the hopes that one of us were brave enough to go against the dynamic _miko_. Fortunately, not a one of us were quite that stupid and more so, we were all in utter agreement with her judgment. I gave a supportive thumbs up and caught Tatsumi's jacket as Wakaba tossed it airily over her shoulder, dropping it into the empty space beside me. The space where I could have sworn someone had been sitting before…

I glanced about. "Where's Ichibana gone?"

Terazuma dropped his mug down onto the table with a heavy thud which suggested he was a little over the line of tipsy and looked at me with bleary eyes. "Oh, your hot friend? She got up about…" He waved the mug about affably, threatening to upend the contents all over our heads. "Eh… halfway through your dance and said, 'Fuck this' and then… headed towards the kitchen." He shrugged and bought the beer to his lips again, pausing before taking another vigorous gulp. "Suppose she got sick of waitin' for her boyfriends break time."

I bit my lip and looked towards the kitchen, not catching sight of Ichibana in my immediate eye line. I was a little concerned. Ichibana was under contract and even though I considered us friends, I ordinarily didn't like for it to leave my sight without precedence. Friend or not, it was first and foremost a Paranormal creature under a bond that I had forced upon it and like any one, would have much preferred its' freedom. And not only that; we were in a bar that was chock-a-block full of Underdwellers and creatures of the Other world, each of which posed a veritable threat. Ichibana was a strong fighter; I knew that from personal experience but there were stronger, stranger and considerably more dangerous and sadistic creatures about than a djinni. Ichibana was desired and well known; I wouldn't have put it past a higher-ranking demon to organize to have it snatched away at the first sign of being alone.

One of the male vampires had made his way to Tsuzuki's side and seemed to have talked him into a dance. Tsuzuki looked bashfully towards us for any sign of disapproval and not getting one, allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor. It seemed like Ichibana wasn't the only one I was going to have to worry about tonight. Tsuzuki was likely to end up as a juicy midnight snack at this rate. He was dancing very close to the vamp, with his head angled up and his neck just out there and on display. I could see the vampire gazing appreciatively at the artery line angling down towards the Shinigami's throat and his fangs were already sliding down over his lip. If Tatsumi could have seen this he would have been having a coronary but he was busy at that particular moment, trying to keep up with a patient Wakaba who was a much more accomplished dancer than our deceptively awkward secretary.

"You don't seem particularly worried about them, Terazuma." Hisoka observed, looking about for a waiter so that he could get another cup of tea I supposed. The young Chinese waitress continued to chat away to a very receptive Konoe, not at all concerned with her occupational duties.

Terazuma huffed into his beer, causing the foam to bubble up around his chin.

"Why should it bother me?" He grunted, mopping his whiskers with a nearby serviette. "Kannuki's my partner, not my wife. It's not up to me who she dances with."

"It's a shame you can't have a dance with her yourself." Saya said sincerely, taking a sip from her Kamikaze cocktail. I was inclined to agree with her but I'd never say it out loud.

Terazuma grunted as though he'd never heard of anything so ridiculous. "Are you kidding? Dancing's not for me. That's for girls and… sissy boys." He pointed to Tsuzuki, who was making a concerted effort not to notice the vampires' mouth zeroing in on his carotid artery. "Exhibit A."

"Well, I'd hardly call _Tatsumi_ a sissy boy!" Yuma proclaimed, as Tatsumi shuffled gracelessly past in the background, Wakaba smiling through winces of pain as he repeatedly stepped on her toes. "Besides, it's only a _real _man that doesn't pay attention to those ridiculously old-fashioned stereotypes! So, you just continue on sitting there and being 'butch'. Meanwhile, the rest of us are going to be having fun! Come on Hisoka."

"Wait… wha-?" Hisoka didn't have the time to finish his objection before Yuma and Saya had propelled him off of his backside and steered him towards the dance floor. He looked pleadingly over his shoulder at me but I just waved a hand as if to say 'indulge them'. Besides, it wouldn't kill the kid to let his hair down (metaphorically speaking) and have a bit of fun. Terazuma was certainly having a good time, laughing at his predicament and I would have appreciated it too if I wasn't busy being distracted by Ichibana's absence. I figured I'd go and check on it so that I could enjoy the rest of the night without the thought of what might have otherwise been going on, distracting me.

I looked around the interior of the club and finally located the 'Staff Only' door to the left of the garden entrance. This led to the staff's personal quarters. If Ichibana was hankering to get Orias' into bed as soon as possible, this was most certainly where I would have been likely to find them. Since I had the contract to Ichibana on my body, I could have just called its' name and asked where it was but I understood all too well that being interrupted in the midst of an intimate moment wasn't particularly appreciated. It would have been just as easy, though admittedly perhaps a little more disturbing on my part, to search the djinni out the old fashioned way and satisfy myself that nothing untoward was going on. Well, untoward in the _not _biblical sense.

It wasn't going to be easy though. Underdwellers were notoriously protective over what personal space they had in the human world and patrons weren't allowed to go wandering about in 'Staff Only' areas anyway. Fortunately, Voldur was busy restraining another very persistent vampire, **(4)** which provided me with enough distraction to slink out of my seat and over to the private door. I glanced about with my fingers clutching the handle, making sure that no one was watching before pushing the door open and stepping through into the staff quarters.

There was a long wooden floor and rooms on either side, where the staff actually slept on sight. I crept along, invoking my inner ninja in order to prevent myself from making the floor creak. I couldn't hear anything and I was just thinking to myself that Ichibana might have been in the toilet, when I saw that the second door from the end of the hall stood open a bit, just wide enough to reach an arm through. The rooms were usually locked to keep drunks from wandering on in and ruining the staffs' personal belongings. Now as I watched it, I felt certain I heard a rustling sound from within and a hint of softly played music. I hoped it was one of the staff members just innocently going about their business. I wanted to know where Ichibana was but I wanted to find it in _flagranta_ _delicto_ even less. I could just imagine the tongue-lashing I would get on account of that!

But still, just to set my mind at ease, I decided I needed to make sure. Just a peek would set my mind at ease. I hunkered down and crept along the wooden corridor, feeling dizzy from worry, and with my throat as dry as a patch of dusty ground. When I reached the door, I brought my eye to the crack to peer inside. I couldn't see well. It was dark and my eyes were terrible. A charcoal brazier was burning in the far corner but only a faint glow remained; so it must have been lit much earlier that evening. Its' light didn't serve to illuminate a great deal but as I looked about the faint glow illuminated something pale and squirming. I almost shrieked when I saw it, because it looked to my sorry eyesight like a small animal going about its' business, head bobbing about as it chewed on something. I could even hear the moist, smacking sounds of its' mouth. It seemed to be standing up on top of something, I couldn't tell what. Stretching out toward me were two long pale columns glistening in the small amount of light that filtered in from the hallway sconces. I was just about to shut the door; for I was frightened the animal might dart out into the corridor with me, when I heard a soft, feminine moan. Then suddenly from beyond where the 'critter' was chewing, a head raised up and Ichibana was looking right at me as Orias labored his lips over the length of the djinni's long bare neck. I jumped back from the door. The long columns were actually Ichibana's bare legs, shining with sweat. Orias' own body, still mostly clad in his work attire was lying between them, moving rhythmically. The smacking noise was his mouth as he sucked on the djinni's throat and trailed kisses all over its neck and lips. And the critter wasn't a critter at all. It was Orias' left hand protruding from his sleeve. An old fashioned gramophone was piping soft jazz music around the room; I could now see the record slowly spinning on the dial.

Ichibana's teeth showed sharp and white in the darkness and I knew that I was in trouble. I started backing up as quietly as I could but my heel came down on a raised floorboard and it let out a very audible squeak. I physically winced, silently mouthing; "_Oh fuck_", to myself.

"What is it?" I heard Orias' voice say. "Is someone there?"

"It's nothin'." Ichibana whispered.

"Someone is there."

"No, it's no one at all," The djinni insisted. "I thought I heard someone m'self, but it's no one. Finish what ye started."

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Ichibana had seen me. But apparently it didn't want its' lover to know. I hurried back to kneel in the hallway; feeling shaken as if I'd just barely thwarted my own death a second time. Mostly, I found myself selfishly awash with envy and desire. It had been much too long since I myself had taken a lover. Seeing Ichibana curled about its' companion in such a passionate manner only served to remind me of this fact. Oh, how I missed that feeling! It didn't help that from where I knelt, I could still clearly hear the gasps and groans of the pair within the small room. Caught up in this cacophony of sound and hunger, I found myself indulging in the fond imaginings of the object of my desires, bound to my own body in such a manner. I remembered that smacking sound I had heard, of Orias' lips squelching wetly against the pale column of Ichibana's neck and instilled this within my own fantasy, visualizing Mibu's mouth upon my flesh, sucking, tasting and licking. Coupled with the groans still emitting from the occupied couple, the scene within my mind was far too erotic in which to freely indulge out in the open and I was forced to abandon it, lest my excitement become embarrassingly clear. I felt empty now, unfulfilled and shallow; I had used Orias and Ichibana's private moment to supplement my own suppressed craving. Their time together was worth far more than that and I had unashamedly taken advantage of it, simply to fulfill myself. I felt dirty, weak and perverted.

The noises had now finally ceased and after they had taken some time to change presumably, Ichibana and Orias finally stepped out into the corridor. Orias looked right at me; face flushed and hair somewhat more ruffled than it had been out within the club. His teeth were stained a little red and I noticed a bite mark on Ichibana's neck, still oozing.

Underdwellers, no matter how kind, all had a slightly sadistic edge when it came to coupling. In fact, a number of what were considered deviant sexual practices among human beings were customary amongst demons and their paramours. Biting was standard for indicating that the 'doe' or submissive partner was the valued property of someone else. There was also an element of masochism; cutting off the oxygen, scratching or otherwise injuring one another was believed to be as much a part of the pleasure as the act of lovemaking itself. As I watched, a drop of blood oozed down over Orias' lip and onto the curve of his chin. He noticed me staring and pulled out a handkerchief in order to dab the blood away and clean off his teeth.

"You were not there when we first came through, Watari-san," He said, granting a slight smile to indicate that he had not missed the obvious. "So it was _you _peeping at us through the doorway. Did you like what you saw?"

I did not rise to the bait. "Unlike you Underdwellers, Orias-san, that is not the means through which I get my jollies." This seemed like an outright lie, whence of course considering my earlier indulgence but I was hardly about to go into detail with Orias concerning it!

Ichibana gently clasped Orias' remaining arm and pressed is' fingers down into the flesh of his palm. It adored Orias; that much was easy to see. It seemed to not even notice the missing limb. Or, if it did, only cherished Orias all the more for it.

"Don't mind Blondie, 'Ri-chan. Knowin' him, he was just comin' ta check on me. Ya know what these humans are like when they got a contract on ya."

Orias huffed a little. "If it was of such inconsequential concern, then why bother even lying? I don't much like it when you're dishonest with me, Ichibana."

"Ah, there ya go usin' m'full name again." Ichibana said, lowering its chin to appear coquettish. "'Ri-chan… ye've been so grumpy lately. Is there somethin' we should talk about?"

"Not in front of your master. I've got to get back to work."

Orias came striding down the hall and stopped to offer me a polite, if somewhat curt bow, before stepping down into the entranceway. He was now blocking my means of escape and I shot Ichibana an urgent look to suggest that I could leave if it wanted to have it out with its' partner but the djinni simply shook its' head and indicated that I should just move down the hall for the time being. I did so, feeling my face flush a little. I was embarrassed for poor Ichibana, who loved Orias dearly and who _wasn't _a romantic person but loved this man in spite of that and who was confused as Hell right now. It wasn't fair on it, I thought, turning around so that I could at least afford them some manner of respect. They'd just made love and now to be treated in such a fashion…

Ichibana moved down into the entrance, again showing its' care and admiration of Orias by helping him into his shoes. Ichibana may have been a djinni but it certainly wasn't servitile by nature. To have it kneel simply to perform this task was much like asking the earth's orbit to swing about. And though I was facing away, I could still hear it speaking to Orias, as I have never heard it speak to anyone before, in a pleading, almost whining voice.

"'Ri-chan, _please_," it said, "I can't for the life of me think what I've done to upset you, so please don't be angry with me." It was so concerned; it had actually reverted to using formal Japanese. "I don't know what's gotten into you! Meet me tomorrow and we'll talk this out…"

"I have no desire to see you tomorrow."

I myself winced at hearing this.

"Well I _do _desire to see you! You mustn't speak to me so impatiently, Orias! If we are to spend our lives together, you must be prepared for the possibility of seeing me every day."

I almost spun about, open mouthed in shock. I hadn't any idea that Ichibana and Orias' relationship had come so far! Was this crisis coming about now because Orias (who had more than once confessed to not being a committed person in relationships) was freaking out about how intimate he and Ichibana had become? I'd seen this sort of thing happen many times and for Underdwellers, the idea of a full lifetime commitment was twice as terrifying! Though not immortal, demons and djinni can live a Hell of a long time! And that's a long time to be putting up with one person.

Ichibana continued, its' voice lowered to block me out, though I was still privy to more than I cared to hear. "Don't you see? That is the very reason I wish to be your life-partner. I detest having to wait so long until the next moment I see you. Just name the place and I'll be there, even if it's a rat-infested hole in the septic department. I don't care, just so long as I can see you!"

"A rat infested hole? Ichibana… this is all so much. I… need some space. Time to think things through properly before I invest myself in this."

"We can slow down." Ichibana said, its voice regressing back to that whining tone again. "We can put everything on hold and just relax for a while, the way we used to."

"Slowing down isn't what I need, Ichi-chan. What I need is to be on my own for a little while. Can you understand that?"

There was a long cold silence that I didn't much like and I risked turning about to catch the angry, hurt look upon my beautiful djinni's face, as it clenched Orias' shoe so tightly between its hands, I quite thought that it meant to break every bone in the demon's foot.

"I understand." Its' voice was like a hiss of ice. "I understand very well that you, like all other men who have professed to love me, only do so whilst I provide you with physical satisfaction and care nothing for me otherwise!"

"Ichibana, that is quite untrue." Orias insisted, seeming contrarily calm despite the obvious pressure being asserted against his caged foot. "This isn't a dilemma that has to do with my feelings for you. I just don't believe that any of this is at all fair on you. I cannot easily guarantee a long life together." He glanced down, his expression sincerely regretful, his single hand knitting together tightly to form a fist against the ledge on which he sat. "There are things about me that someone like you shouldn't have to live with. It would be a terrible offense…"

"Is that what someone else has made you think? Like that bastard Vondel?" Ichibana asked, trying to make eye contact with Orias. The demon would have none of it however. "Orias, you can't honestly believe any of that garbage matters to me! I don't care that you're not powerful… and as for your arm; you _know _I've never paid no matter mind to that!"

"No one's said anything to me." Orias murmured, still refusing to look away from the floor. "My darling, you and I have loved. But in real life, we all know that love isn't the answer to all problems that exist between people. Sometimes… regardless of how strong these feelings are, practicality wins out." He finally looked up and met the djinni's eyes. "I can't make you happy. But there are many, _many _strong and powerful men who can and will."

Ichibana's bottom lip trembled and my own heart panged in my chest as I saw its' face crease into an unfathomable pain, tears causing those brilliant red eyes to shine. "I've never _wanted _anyone else but you! I chose _you_! You and no one else! That's how I'll _always _feel!" It sank its' forehead down against Orias' leg, shoulders shaking in a mixture of hurt and fury. "Why are you doing this to me? You've loved me all this time, regardless of how much of a fool I can be… what has changed since we were in that room together? Is there someone else?"

Orias looked mortified by the very suggestion. "_No_. No of course not. There won't _ever_ be anyone else. By your wish my life opens, closes and divides." He reached out and placed his hand atop Ichibana's head, tenderly caressing the plum colored tresses. "Please, you must believe that much. Whatever else you think of me, you must know for sure that I am not a fool. Who could I love if not you? Who has ever met you and could not love you? The very idea of it…" Orias slid his fingers down beneath the djinni's chin and lifted its' head, revealing a face drenched in such pain it caused my own heart to ache. "I know you don't understand… I wish you _could _understand but it's wrong for you to stay with me."

The djinni's tearful features shifted at these words and all at once became an ugly countenance of utter fury. "Why would you assume that I _couldn't _understand? Do you take me for an ignoramus? Forgive me, my darling but I do not buy that, for a second." Ichibana twisted Orias' foot sharply sideways, causing the demon to flinch in pain. "No, I think you'd rather leave it at that than try and explain yourself. Perhaps you're under too much pressure to bear from other Underdwellers and you haven't the spine to stand up for yourself or for me. No, you'd rather play that pathetic pecking game you demon's have going on and cut the cord so I can be anyone's. This whole thing has just become far too difficult for you, hasn't it? You don't think what we have is worth fighting for. Even worse, you don't love me enough to fight for _me._ You're just giving me up, like I'm… property! _Property!_" The djinni's hands squeezed Orias' foot so sharply I expected the ankle to snap clean through at any moment. "I've seen the ending to this story far too many times and I ain't bein' taken for a ride again! So 'Ri-chan, if this is what you want, I'm glad to give it to you. See if anyone else will kiss that stump of your arm the way I do! See if anyone loves you as much as I! See if anyone will fuck you as hard and fast and deeply and passionately while looking into your eyes as I do. The reason I can do all these things and more is because of how much you goddamn mean to me, you horrible man!" Ichibana's eyes were wet with moisture and tears had already started to roll down its' cheeks. "I'm too old for this shit now. I just need a companion. And if I was stupid enough to think that person would be you, well, I guess the jokes on me. Sayonara, Orias."

Ichibana released Orias' foot so that it fell to the floor with a loud thud and in the blink of an eye had bolted out the entrance doorway. I caught sight of Orias' frustrated expression as I charged past him.

"I didn't mean for that to go so badly." He said softly, seeking out my eyes for some reassurance. I looked away.

"I'm not on anyone's side, Orias." I said, truthfully. "It's not my business what goes on between you and Ichibana. But honestly, what did you expect? It loves you. And its' obviously taken a big gamble in letting you know just how much it does. You should respect that. If you're going to break up with it, at least have the courtesy to make it a clean break. Don't just offer it that bullshit excuse."

"That bullshit excuse was the truth. It wasn't an easy decision for me to make believe me but I've done it for her benefit." Orias always referred to Ichibana in a feminine context.

I could only shake my head, unable to fathom his feelings. "If you truly love it… if you mean to spend the rest of your life with it, running away at this juncture is only evidence that you're uncertain about your feelings. Knowing Ichibana, this more than anything is what is upsetting it. Just… think about." I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. "Excuse me now, Orias-san."

I followed Ichibana's path back out into the galleria proper but wasn't able to spot it immediately. Considering the amount of makeup it wore and the fact that it had been crying, my first point of call was of course the toilet blocks. Being of no specific sexual gender, I had no way of knowing whether it'd gone into the male or female block, but I took a stab and entered into the male toilets instead. Turns out my insight was right on the mark. Ichibana was standing to one side of the mirrors and Tsuzuki was with it, so I supposed the latter had just concluded his business at the cubicle when Ichibana came storming in. Tsuzuki looked deeply concerned and was peering into Ichibana's face with a handkerchief in his hand.

"Well, it's all smeared. There's nothing more I can do for the time being." He established, dabbing at what was obviously eyeliner and mascara now adorning Ichibana's curved cheeks. "I'm not gonna bother reapplying it for you, until I'm quite sure you have finished crying."

But I wasn't sure when Ichibana _would_ be done crying. It'd been with Orias for years; so long that even Tsuzuki and I were on friendly terms with him. They were like a plum and its' pit; two things always together, made for each other. I couldn't imagine not having Orias around. Neither obviously, could Ichibana.

Ichibana sighed, plucking the handkerchief from Tsuzuki's hand and leaning over the sink in order to dab the corners of its' eyes, where the dark eyeliner had severely blotted. Its' entire body seemed to be trembling.

"_What happened_?" Tsuzuki mouthed at me but I didn't get a chance to answer because Ichibana got in there first.

"Orias dumped my ass, is what." It said, making another valiant attempt to clean its' face up but the shaking of its' fingers didn't permit for it. Frustrated, it lapsed back into tears again and Tsuzuki and I took over, cleaning it up as best we could. Ichibana looked tearfully to me as I went to work reapplying mascara to its already long and lovely eyelashes. Still, it would have a fit if they weren't done and I wasn't about to add to its' stress. "I'm sorry you had to hear all that crude stuff, Blondie. I was just _so mad_ everythin' in my head came flowin' out m' mouth."

"Don't worry about that! You've done nothing to apologize for!"

Ichibana whimpered softly, pressing its fist to its forehead in an attempt to feign control. Its hand wouldn't stop shaking however. "What am I gonna do without him? I love him so much… what went wrong?" It sniffed with a great shudder that seemed to jolt through its' lungs and resonate throughout its' entire upper torso. "I've always thought of myself as a strong and independent person but the truth is… I'm terrified to be alone."

To be honest, I didn't feel entirely sympathetic. I'd been alone a long time and had been forced to become accustomed to it, or risk becoming bitter. And I wasn't striking like Ichibana, so it wasn't just a simple task for me to find someone. But I forced these feelings down and made myself smile. Ichibana wasn't some cheap person that had a different guy every other day. Orias had been a part of its' life for _years_. "Ichibana, it's gonna be okay…"

Ichibana's lips twisted unattractively as it spun on me, whipping the handkerchief aside as though it were a much more violent instrument. "Oh, don't say somethin' so trite! I don't want to be alone again… I've always been alone and I've never liked it! Orias is the kindest most gentle soul… I'd never dared hope there could be anyone like him in all creation. You don't just get that kind of thing back!" It moaned desperately.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think!" Tsuzuki said, in an attempt to console the irate djinni. "Maybe once Orias has a think about what's happened…"

"Yeah, I mean he said just now that he'll always love you." I amended.

Ichibana turned back to the mirror, dabbing at the tears that were once again rolling down its' cheeks. "If he really loved me, he wouldn't be doin' this. What the hell is he tryin' to prove?" It threw the handkerchief down with a frustrated huff and marched for the door, hand held up under its' eyes as the tears continued to gush out unhindered. "I gotta get outta here. I need some time by myself."

"Ichibana…" I tried to grab it by the arm but it twisted free and pushed out through the door, which swung shut loudly behind it. "Ichibana, you shouldn't just leave it like this- Ichi!"

Tsuzuki sucked his lower lip between his teeth in a classic gesture of concern. "Think it's such a flash idea to let it go off like this?" He asked, having obviously missed my outright attempt to stop Ichibana from doing this very thing. "Mood it's in right now it's likely to go out and suck someone's soul dry."

"Yes, the thought had actually occurred to me, thankyou Tsuzuki." I snapped. Ichibana was no different to the rest of us; when it was feeling bad, it searched for ways to feel better. And a djinni never felt better than when it was slurping up somebody's soul like a Hokkien noodle. Even with our contract, I had no absolute guarantee that it wouldn't find a way to get this done regardless.

I ploughed out through the door and ran head first into Saya who was heading for the ladies.

"Hey Watari," She said, once we had steadied ourselves. "I just saw that friend of yours high tailing it outta here. Is everything okay?"

"Something could be _very _wrong if I don't catch up." I said, pushing by Saya's confused expression and weaving my way over to the door. Voldur (somehow knowing I was coming) pushed it open for me and I bowed hastily before stepping through, rushing to keep the exterior door from slamming shut. I clearly wasn't far behind.

I emerged out into the back alley, breath huffing heavily, the sound of a nearby train clacking along the tracks. Ichibana was nowhere in sight, though I could hardly find myself surprised by this, for it was a creature that could move as swiftly and silently as a bullet when it felt like it. If I hoped to speak with it, I had no choice but to enforce my authority.

The contract that bound Ichibana and I together was etched into the roof of my mouth, so that whenever I need give it an order, my tongue would come directly into contact with it. This cord, as I often referred to it, would only stretch so far; so that Ichibana couldn't say, run off to Africa. In fact, he wasn't able to leave the city in which I was in at any particular given point in time. It was much like having a leashed dog that I was able to pull back to my side with a strong enough tug.

Concerned that the djinni might have been misbehaving, I chose then to give that cord a mental tug by announcing Ichibana's name out loud, every syllable driving the tip of my tongue up against the edges of the contract, which burned against my flesh. A vehement, _"WHAT?!" _came thundering into my mind.

"You know the rules, tell me where you're going."

"_Goddammit; you're not my nursemaid! Why should I be so inclined to explain why I have stormed off?!"_

I tried to be patient but it was most difficult, especially as Ichibana was in fact behaving like an errant teenager. "I know _why _you stormed off and I can hardly say that I blame you. You have a right to be upset. What you _don't _have a right to do is go and suck out someone's soul just to appease your mood. And I may not be your nursemaid but I _am _your Keeper, just in case it was convenient for you to forget."

A huff reverberated about my skull. _"So, it's all right for ye human's te get drunk when ye heart gets broken but it ain't a'right for me ta do somethin' ta make myself feel better?!"_

"You know perfectly well that those are two different things entirely! Eat a box of chocolates, smoke a carton of fags, snort some _snuff _if ya like but don't you bother none now with taking any souls, ya hear?"

I could feel Ichibana's sadness and frustration through our connection and I had to fight hard to not let it wash over and consume me also. I needed to stick to my guns about this and I could hardly do that if I were to cross over the threshold into the wrong side of blubbery.

"_Please… please just… trust me, okay? I'm not gonna hurt anyone. I just need some time to m'self." _Ichibana's voice seemed to tremble between my ears and I actually felt my eyes well up at the corners. We really _were _too closely connected at times. One of the drawbacks of forging a contract with an Underdweller. I imagined it was something like having a twin. "_Please… don't be on m' back at the moment. I need to breathe."_

I held up a hand as though the djinni was in fact before me and I was easing it back. A man who was walking by seemed very amused by the conversation I appeared to be having with an imaginary person. "It's okay, I trust you. Just… be careful, okay?"

"_I'm not a fool, you know._" A silence and then, ever hesitantly; "_Danke. I'll… see you before the mornin'."_

"Right. Be sure of that." I relinquished the contact and stood for a moment in the warm night air, scratching the back of my head and sighing. I could feel the weariness creeping back up to consume my senses and I just thought it was perhaps time to call it a night.

That's when I saw the boy.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

He was standing in the alleyway entrance to my immediate left. I had to shield my eyes as a car drove across the overpass, obscuring my vision momentarily. When the lights had receded into the distance, he was still there, staring around the corner at me, fingers clutched around the cement corner of the building beside him. I couldn't make out his expression very well in the near dark but he appeared anxious to me, one hand pressed to his chin and trembling slightly.

"What the-? It's that kid." Another car passed, blurring my vision. When its' tail lights had receded and the dots stopped flashing before my eyes, all I could see of the boy was his fingers slipping around the corner. "Oh no you don't." I said. "You're not getting away from me again!"

I started pushing my way through the milling Tokyo crowd, following as quickly as I could. I rounded the corner on one foot and saw the boy making his idle way down the alley towards the street beyond. He happened to glance over his shoulder and caught sight of me standing there. His eyes widened, as though he hadn't expected me to follow. He broke into a trot and then, with one last glance over his shoulder, began sprinting for the end of the alley.

"Stop running, you twerp!" I screamed, giving chase without a second thought. I wasn't exactly what you would call a fit man and the boy was long limbered and quick; I doubted I would be able to catch him. But this child was the only lead we had into solving the mystery of the Tachiagari and I was hardly about to let him go. I reached down for that little bit extra and pushed myself on, heels pounding loudly against the cement as I ran. Luck had my side it seemed because the boy was too busy looking over his shoulder to keep track of where his feet were landing. He crashed into the side of a large garbage can and toppled over with a surprised yelp, throwing his hands out to cushion his fall.

"Yes, yes, _got_ _you_!" I crowed, running up and all but preparing to throw myself on top of the willful tyke to keep him from slipping away again. The boy flipped over onto his back just as I reached his side and jabbed his finger out towards me. His palms were scraped red raw from the fall and the finger itself dripped blood. But this isn't what stopped me dead.

A sharp 'zing' sliced through my brain, almost making me nauseous with the pain that it elicited and my body became completely rigid. My feet skidded to a stop and try as I might, I could not force myself forwards. The boy scrambled backwards, through overturned garbage, his finger still extended and mouth drawn outwards into a miserable drawl.

"I'm sorry," He panted, slapping his cheek to rid it of a tear that has just fallen. "You... you need to see..." He slowly rose to his feet and straightened up, backing slowly away as I struggled to follow. "You must see why you cannot follow."

"What the fuck are you doi-" A dissonance rang through my body and every nerve ending thumped like a pulse beat. I tried to draw breath but my lungs clenched and expelled air that wasn't there. The walls on either side of me trembled in the corners of my vision and the sky above seemed to tremble and change color. The boys' body contorted, changing position in the blink of an eye; at once upright, the next twisted abnormally from the waist. Everything had reversed its' natural order somehow and my thoughts all at once ceased to be, my knees collapsing as a pain beyond physical comprehension splintered through my senses. The boys finger remained still above all else, pointed resolutely at my chest. I had the impression that he was channeling through his finger; injecting something terrible deep into my body.

'_Stop it!' _I tried to say but the words were sucked back and discharged deep through the base of my lungs, exploding into my lower abdomen with such force I wondered if I had in fact been disemboweled. Through obscure vision, I could see the boys visible blue eyes creased in at the corners with what I took to be sympathy. Then the blue became darkest purple and shone with an unnatural ire.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered and then my body convulsed as though something were invading each and every cell. "I _have _to. I have to give you a part of it, so you can _see_. See why you mustn't follow any further!"

The scenery behind him compressed together as if it were being suctioned down a pipeline and for a split second pause, all was silent and still. And then, with a violent rush, something burst and the walls on either side of the boy and even the ground beneath him spewed forth-dark tendrils, which raced forward to meet me. The unseen physical presence slammed into me, past my body and through my spiritual essence, snagging into it with burning hooks that to keep it from traveling further. My stomach clenched and I could hear something… _someone _screaming in furious anguish. The spiritual hooks stretched and pulled against my soul until I thought it quite intended to rip my essence to pieces. My vision came and dissipated in violent red flashes as I fought to hold this thing back, terrified that if I were to release it, my soul would be damaged past all repair. My stomach cramped and compressed and I became aware at one point of slamming into the alleyway wall and clinging onto the brickwork to bear down upon. The pain stretched up and encompassed my brain, manifesting into a blinding headache. Along with it came unencumbered images of things I did not recognize, desires that were surely not my own and an encompassing rage which, if physical, would have torn at my face with nails and teeth.

I forced it down with everything I had; clenched my teeth and roared out loud, trying to overcome. It struggled, like an errant child on the arm of its mother but eventually seemed to tire and in moments of its' coming, stilled, as if exhausted by the fight.

I panted, physically exhausted by the bizarre struggle and sank slowly sideways along the wall, sinking my forehead into my hands and groaned with a certain relief. I hadn't the vaguest conception under God as to what that boy had done to me but I thought it very similar to the incident at the Tachiagari. It was as though he could somehow enter our minds and spirit and directly injure them. It would explain how he had been able to evoke that horrendous darkness. One thing that didn't hold up however; I had no knowledge of any such spell capable of doing this. I felt strange… as though I were not entirely myself anymore. At a deep, indiscernible level I felt immeasurable coldness; like sharp steel, unable to be warmed by any means. This presence in itself invoked a persistent sickness and I was scared to move of what might happen next.

I summoned up courage from my reserve bank and forced myself to open my eyes and I looked down to the far end of the alley. The boy was gone and his presence wasn't the only thing of which was remiss.

Everything had changed; just like the Tachiagari. The warm air of Tokyo had dissolved into a misty rain. The stars had disappeared from the sky and not three feet above my head, rusted metal grating had appeared. I could hear it creaking, as though something was walking across it, just out of sight. It was so dark that I could barely seen three feet in front of me. I reached out with shaking fingers and felt for the wall. It felt rough and grainy, like stucco and plaster rather than concrete. I reached into my pocket and retrieved my lighter, fumbling it a few times before I was able to get it lit. I panned the light around and my heartbeat accelerated at what I was seeing. It was no longer the alleyway into which I had so recklessly ventured in pursuit of that boy; now it looked like a hospital corridor, though significantly aged and decayed. IV stands were lying across the ground and against the walls. The sounds of the surrounding clubs were gone and the only noise was an industrial grating that seemed to come from somewhere in the distance.

"What the hell-?" I whispered, looking around. "Just like back in the library…" I turned to glance behind me and saw that a tall, rusted chain link fence barred the end of the alley from which I had just come. I wouldn't be able to jump it either because of the grating above my head. "Shit! And me without a weapon or nothin'… this ain't right."

My skin felt cold and I was scared. The boy was nowhere in sight but I could only assume as much, that he was the key out of here. I had to find him.

Using the flame of the lighter to illuminate my path, I made my way down what now appeared to be a hospital corridor. There were doors on either side, all of which slammed shut as I approached. I reached out and grabbed the handle of the nearest one and tried to jerk it open but it was either locked or jammed and refused to yield. It was eerily quiet. No voices, no movement – not even the squeaking shuffle of a medical cart, or the cough of an unseen patient. I angled the lighter towards the ground and saw that it was littered with paper from charts and various notes; all wet and stained dark brown from either old blood or dirtied feet that had passed through. I bent down and picked up one of the soggy articles by the corner, turning it this way and that to examine it. Most of the writing had been obscured but the letterhead was still legible. It read _Hitoshima Memorial_, which was a hospital in the Osaka region.

When I had been eight, I had stayed in the hospital following a traumatic event. I'd received extensive counseling through their affiliated services and been treated for a number of symptoms, most noticeably PTSD. **(5)** At age thirteen, I'd also been admitted for a minor accident when a nail went through my hand. But these two incidences paled considerably in light of the three most colossal events that occurred during my later years. They say that all roads lead to the hospital. More often than not, it's where life begins. But it's also where a lot of lives end.

I had seen one life begin in _Hitoshima Memorial_. And I had seen two end. Mine was one of them.

I picked up another sheet of paper from the ground and found this to be marginally more legible. I held the lighter closer to the page in order to read the typed note.

_**Victim Information**_

_Insofar – Background – Unknown_

_Name/age – Unknown_

_**Not admitted patient. Recovered from the Main building of 'Ambrosia Enterprise' following fire. Third-degree burns to approx. 70 per cent of the body. Emergency surgery undertaken at 4:50 am to save victim but chance at recovery remains minimal, given the extent and severity of the injury. Following surgery, patient was temporarily installed in room W23 at Chief's discretion. Despite best efforts of hospital staff, patient died later tonight from severe blood loss and trauma. Sent to 3rd floor treatment room for further investigation. Additional examination uncovered that patient had sustained critical injuries prior to being burned. Victim's skull was cracked along the temporal lobe by suspected blunt force trauma, inside elbows had been subjected to severe mutilation and left leg received a number of fractures. Police officials suspect fire deliberately lit and victims' injuries lend evidence to support speculation of foul play. Have not notified police as of yet. However, for future necessity, leave victim's effects in storage facility. **_

I picked up another piece of paper but it said exactly the same thing. So did the next one and the one after that. They all bore the same typeface, the exact same message… I screwed them up one at a time and tossed them at the wall beside me, trying not to let this bizarre and crazy coincidence get the better of me. I reminded myself of the Tachiagari, the postulation I'd had at the time that the spell, whatever it was, had the ability to take the victims memories and make them into a confronting and terrifying reality. I had nothing more to fear in this strange place, than I had to fear of my own mind. But the mind is, at the best of times, a curious and uncharted landscape that you would never in all your years be able to travel to the ends of. And in all honesty; I was terrified of my own thoughts. Of my memories. I'd had some bad ones. Things that I'd much rather have been left behind and forgotten for good.

I took a few deep breaths and told myself to pull it together. This was happening, whether I liked it or not. I was going to have to confront these imagined horrors head on, or risk losing my mind entirely or even being trapped here until god knows when. Neither was acceptable to me. I flicked the lighter to renew the flame and with a determined huff, rose to my feet and continued down the 'corridor', ignoring the doors as they slammed shut before me, as though tugged out of reach by mocking hands. My path was straight ahead and I wouldn't let myself be distracted by these feeble disruptions.

One door didn't slam shut and despite what I had just told myself, I couldn't help but glance inside. A gurney came rolling out, as if it were being slowly pushed by someone and came to a halt right in front of me, barring my path. The door then slammed shut, as if to say it had nothing more to offer and left me with the strange gift it had bestowed.

As I moved closer I could see that someone was lying on the gurney, covered by a thin sheet. I could discern the outline of the face, from which blood appeared to be blooming, causing the sheet to stick in a number of places. I was afraid to pull the sheet away, afraid of what I might find underneath. But I couldn't just walk away without first checking to see if this person was still alive. I swallowed heavily and pulled the sheet up just enough to slip my hand under. A fetid smell wafted out, almost causing me to gag but I persisted, fingers coming into contact with the cold clammy skin of the bodies' neck. I found where the pulse point would otherwise be and steadied my own breathing, concentrating on finding some source of life. There was no movement beneath the skin and the chest didn't rise or fall, so whoever this individual was, they were no longer of the world of the living. I sighed to myself, wondering, against all the irrationality of this place, why someone would have just left a body out in the open like this. I started to withdraw my hand, when something happened that caused my heart to almost give out. Something grasped my wrist and looking down, I saw the corpses decayed fingers clasped about my arm as tightly as a vice. I shrieked, smacking at the hand and pulling backwards. The grip loosened and I stumbled over onto my butt, scuttling away as the arm flopped down off of the gurney, swaying gently back and forth. I saw the chest rise beneath the sheet and then, with my mind screaming at the top of its' lungs for it not to be so, the arm, burned black and withered, reached slowly up and peeled the sopping sheet away from the corpses face. I fumbled to keep my grip on the lighter, scooting back and making a strangled whimpering noise against my unconscious consent as the body sat up and turned its' face slowly towards me.

I felt a scream choke and die in my parched throat. The corpses face had been burned beyond all recognition, a few sparse strands of prickly hair the only thing that remained on its' dome shaped skull. But the eyes were truly awful, for buried deep into each socket were two syringes, driven in so hard and deep that the depressed head of the levers were the only visible part. Blood continued to spurt in thin trails from the tear ducts as the corpse reached up and placed its finger, burned down to the bone, against its' starkly white teeth. For there were no lips anymore.

"_Don't follow," _It whispered, in a voice that sounded familiar, yet I couldn't match to anyone I knew. "_Go back." _**(6)**

The flame of my lighter suddenly snuffed out and my heart almost died along with it. I exclaimed in horror, sounding ashamedly girlish even to my own ears as I struggled to relight it. My fingers were shaking so hard it took at least five attempts to achieve the ignition and all the while I was waiting in the dark for the corpses burned fingers to find me. The little orange flame eventually sprung back into the picture and I immediately thrust it forward towards where the gurney had sat, only to find that it was no longer there. I wondered if I'd somehow managed to get turned about in the darkness and checked behind me, just to make sure it wasn't somehow to my back. A quick inspection of my surroundings confirmed that the specter was not in the immediate vicinity.

I took another deep breath and tried to steady my once more heavily rattled nerves. In this warped interpretation of my memories, I was unable to conjure the positive aspects such as the adornment of flowers, cards, 'Congratulations' balloons, the kindness of the nursing staff, the little cups of jell-o, the warmth of family and friends surrounding me. No. None of that was permitted here. This 'darkness', whatever it was, forbade the victim from taking any sort of respite; I could rebuild nothing of my memories unless it was soaked in pain and horror. That seemed to be the way that things worked here.

"You want to try and ward me off through pain and horror?" I found myself saying aloud as I climbed back to my feet and gave my bottom a dissuasive brushing off. "That's a Shinigami's staple diet, don't you know? I'll devour it and spit it right back out in your face."

Having thumbed my nose at the imagined 'Whomever', I continued down to the end of the alley. There was a hospital drip stand with a note attached to it. The note was very obvious to me, so I pulled it away and examined it.

The note read:

"_The Patient in room M324 is due to undergo extensive surgery at 2:35 pm. Amputation will be carried out to remove both patients legs."_

And then, on the other side, a short piece had been penned by another hand. This held a significantly more personal air.

"_It would be better for me to die, then to remain inerto as such. After all, my family has always applauded itself for having recognized that death is not that which is something to be feared… _

_The child… it is a bearer, such as I was. When I think of the endless pain he will suffer for this cause so long battled… I've decided that, instead of becoming a burden and forcing my cherished ones to endure cruelty in halting their own lives for me that I shall act in bestowing a simple passing upon myself. I'm not a fool that will resist doing what is practical._

_I sometimes have this sense even now that, that still waters run deep in this boy. He is born anew of a life lived before. I don't worry much the path he will choose for himself. I only hope that I can be forgiven for my venturing so far away, when he is still so young._

_I hope he will find himself loved, no matter who he may be. He is my most beloved treasure. But this name is a mistake. Will it one day ring synonymous with evil doings and false memories built on pain and bloodshed? I have this most terrible feeling it will be so… my dearest child will suffer ever terribly…_

_When he knows the truth of what he must do by this name, will he resent my passing even more?_

_This is why I hesitate."_

"Room 324…? Legs amputated…?" I raised my head, looking away from the note. "But that's… that was _her_ room number … _Both _legs." I dropped the note, leaving it to flutter down into a puddle of water just near my foot. "Whatever this darkness is… it digs deeper than I thought possible. I've got to be careful."

I rounded a T-junction and finally emerged from the end of the alleyway, leaving the starch and cold atmosphere of the hospital corridor behind me. The area beyond resembled the Tokyo street that existed there in real life, only much darker of course and seemingly abandoned, apart from the hulking husks of a number of cars. It wasn't quite so dark out here and the grating had tapered out at the end of the corridor, so I was able to turn off the lighter and give my thumb a break for a while. I saw something move from the corner of my eye and looked across the street. The door to an old clothing shop banged shut and I caught a fleeting glimpse of something or someone ducking inside.

"If I were watching this on TV right now, I'd be screaming at myself, 'Go back, you fucking idiot!'" I said to myself, conveying a hapless shrug to the 'would-be' audience. "Doesn't seem quite so linear now that I'm actually living it. I mean; where else am I supposed to go?" I sighed and made my way across the street, towards no doubt 'certain DOOM' and pushed open the still mostly ajar door. The inside of the shop was dark. Not that this should have surprised me, being that it was the running theme and all but I just didn't want you guys to get the wrong impression and think that I had suddenly wandered into a brightly lit fairy castle or something. I glanced around and then flicked the light switch to see if it would turn on. Of course, it did no such thing.

"Naturally, the electricity isn't working. God forbid if this were just a little less creepy for me." I heard a click and turned around to see something incredibly strange happening to the door. My tone conveys an understatement of sorts, because to say that what was happening was 'incredibly strange' simply does not do the occurrence justice, so I'll try and explain it in a little more detail. A number of rusted steel bars were sliding into place horizontally across the door, sinking down within the wood itself and firmly blocking it off. I tried to rip the rods away using my preternatural strength but to no avail. "Shit! This stuff's even stronger than I am." I looked behind me and into the interior of the shop, noticing how the walls appeared as corroded as the 'corridor' had been and there were blood spatters here and there about the place, even on some of the racks of clothes. Three mannequins in equally degenerated clothing stood to attention on the window display rack. Their bodies were angled out towards the street but their blank faces were all swiveled in my direction; featureless and yet I somehow had this sense that they were aware of me. Was it just a coincidence that they were angled like that? I tried to remember if their faces had been like this the whole time but I really hadn't taken much notice when I'd entered the store, being far more concerned with catching up to the boy.

The bleak inevitable suddenly dawned on me. "I am _so_ fucking screwed. Damn me and my ethics!" I looked up towards the roof; hands perched jauntily against my hips. "Still… seeing as how I _obviously _can't leave; I guess I might as well take a look around and see if I can't rustle up some answers to just what the Hell is going on around here."

I took a moment to get my bearings and then wandered over behind the store counter and started digging around in the cabinets beneath. I found some mildewed invoices, a couple of old lay by dockets (all dated to within the last week, though appearing significantly older) and other various knickknacks. Eventually, I managed to unearth a purple snakeskin purse from what might have been an employee and inside was a small torch, with a note attached to it:

"_Until you get the lights in your dash repaired, use this for when you're driving at night. The last thing you need is another speeding ticket! – Love Dad." _

I took the torch and switched it on. The beam was surprisingly strong.

"So, the electricity doesn't work but the batteries in this torch seem just fine. How convenient for me." I shone the torch around, taking the in the room in its' entirety. "Might be the only break I get in the immediate future."

With the small torch illuminating my path, I made my cautious way across the room, taking note of the clothing racks. They seemed like a good place for a slender boy to hide himself and so I decided to commence my search there. The clothes were torn, dusty and stiff beneath my fingers when I reached out to touch them. In the faint light I could detect dark stains adorning the material in slapdash patterns, as if someone had liberally doused the garments in a hearty soaking of blood. I understood that this environment was perhaps entirely intended to frighten intruders such as myself but these measures seemed perhaps a little over the top and childishly stereotypical. It certainly had an unsettling effect on me but as a Shinigami, I had just that margin more experience with the macabre than your run of the mill mortal.

I crouched down on my haunches, feeling the muscles in my thighs strain from the unfamiliar pressure as I panned the light beneath the clothing stands to my right and then left. No boy sat crouched beneath the bloodied garments, no eyes blinked out at me from the gloom. I shuffled forward a little further and stepped into the next isle, tilting my head sidelong to examine beneath the stand. The silence was pervasive and so the sound that broke through it appeared unnaturally loud against my ears. It came from behind me; a light, scraping noise as if someone were running a plank of wood across the floor. I spun about, panning the light on the mildewed, grime-riddled window. I could see nothing beyond it and nothing caught my attention besides. And yet, something seemed different, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The space appeared empty and yet I was certain there had been something occupying the display stand… Something to attract the attention of passerby's on the street, in order to invite them inside…

And it hit me, so obvious in its' simplicity I could have slapped my own face for having initially missed it. The three mannequins that seemed to stand sentry before the window were no longer there. I remembered the sense I'd had when the shop had dissolved into the nightmare realm around me; that another presence had blinked to life in that moment and eyes had fallen upon me. I ducked down to check beneath the clothing racks once more, just to ensure that nothing had taken residence there in the moment my back was turned. Assured that this was not where the mannequins had gone to, I slowly, timidly made by way towards the display stand, shamed when forced to clutch the small flashlight in both hands to keep the beam steady. My heart sped up, pounding a sporadic rhythm against the wall of my chest until the entire room seemed to reverberate around me. I had almost cleared the line of the clothing racks, when the garments to my right parted like flesh dividing beneath the skilled stroke of a knife and something came hurtling from this raw wound with a deep, rattling shriek. I jumped back, uttering my own cry of fear as the thing fell short of its' intended mark, landing at my feet with a wet, bodily slap like raw meat falling upon the floor. I toppled onto my rear, shakily aiming the beam down to see just what had accosted me. It was one of the three missing mannequins, arms outstretched as though reaching for where I had only moments ago been standing. It didn't move and after a minute had passed, I felt confident that it wasn't likely to move again. I gathered my nerves and climbed back to my feet, leaning down to examine the clothes dummy.

The outside surface was composed of material, rather than the usual plastic or ceramics. The masculine attire it had been outfitted in was torn and bloodied. I noticed a tear on the cheek of the mannequin, beneath which was something dark, seeming fetid and from which arose a sickly sweet stench. I used my fingers to spread the material wider and aimed the torchlight down. What I saw made me stumble backwards once more, clasping a hand over my mouth to keep myself from gagging.

The intricately woven fabric had been sewn directly into a human body; a body that had progressed through several stages of decomposition. I could see that the stitching had been looped down beneath the first few layers of flesh, drawing the cloth tightly against it, leading to discoloration of the material.

"Dear god…" I breathed, curiosity overcoming my fear. I crawled back over to the stilled doll and worked my hand delicately down along the body, assuring myself that it was not just the head that was encased as such. I could feel the firmness of the decayed flesh and muscle beneath the tarnished cloth; it squished wetly beneath my probing fingers. "It's a mannequin all right, but the cloth on the outside is covering up a real body on the inside!" I pulled my hand away, examining the red sheen of the long since clotted blood that now adorned my fingertips in gooey globules. "The progression of the decay is too great… it would be just about impossible to ID the victim. If indeed it is a real victim in this place." I stood up and then ducked around the rack, shining the torch down the isle alongside but no one was there. "Well then, who the hell shoved it through?" I moved back into the isle and almost wrenched my ankles for grinding to a halt so fast. The reason as such was the isle that stretched long and empty before me; with no sign of the mannequin that had only been at my back for less than a matter of seconds. I could see the stain on the floor as evidence to where it had fallen but no other marks to suggest the path it had now taken. "Oh no… oh, you've gotta be fucking shitting me!" I panned the torch around but could see nothing. Nor was there any sound but the far distant industrial grinding. "Fuck me… now I'm gonna be looking over my shoulder every two minutes…"

I scanned the room for a moment, trying to find another route, which might have taken me to an exit. I noticed a door blending in with the shadows behind the shop counter, which I had obviously missed when I had been searching through the drawers. I hastened towards it, keeping one eye out for any possible movement and then wrenched it open, looking behind me all the while until I had stepped through and shut the door tightly.

It was a very strange little room into which I had entered; like a hospital stay room. There was a bed in the very center, partitioned off by white, over-starched curtains. I could hear what sounded like a heart monitor beeping steadily but as I approached, it abruptly flat lined. I held the torch steady and placed my hand on the curtain, moving to one side in case something meant to leap out at me once more. I roughly tugged the halves of the curtain apart and peered around to see who was in the bed.

A female mannequin, clothed in a ragged hospital gown, was perched upright against several plump pillows, with wires threaded down through the material and obviously feeding into the body beneath. I couldn't actually tell from where I was standing whether there was in fact a real body hidden under the cloth.

"Another mannequin…" I murmured, displaying that remarkable knack for observation, which had made me the certified brains of the Summons Department. I quickly checked under the bed and was satisfied that nothing lurked in wait for me down there. I moved to the bedside and lifted the blanket away, revealing that the mannequin was composed of only an upper torso. "It's one of those mannequins they use on the top shelves in stores to display shirts. It doesn't have any legs." **(7)** I dropped the blanket back down into place, confused. Why had the heart rate machine been beeping before? This thing was never alive. Unless of course the supposed body beneath… but that was impossible if there was only half a body in the first place.

Putting these questions on hold for the time being, I moved around the bed and pushed apart the curtains on the far side, revealing yet another door. As I twisted the knob and pushed against the wooden panel in order to open it, I heard the heart monitor spring into action once more, giving out a steady beep. My eyes trailed back but I decided against checking, reasoning that it was most likely a game intended to stir me up. My purpose was to find that boy and then remove myself from this place as soon as possible; in that order. Dallying about, regardless of the bizarre nature of the circumstances, was hardly going to benefit me in anyway.

The adjacent room turned out to be a kitchenette. The very first thing that I did, before even looking about, was to wrench open the cutlery drawer and shine the light inside, searching for something I could have used as a weapon. I wasn't altogether surprised to find that the drawer itself was empty, as were the two below it but I still felt disappointment slide down into my chest like a cold hard slab. I checked the bench tops, working my way towards the sink. The torchlight picked up what appeared to be steam in the air and I could feel the temperature dramatically shift. From the corner of my eye I could make out a vague shape and I swiveled the torch around to find the body of a child, leaning over the sink, its' face submerged in water. My heart raced and I immediately reached for the victims' neck, pressing my finger against where the pressure point would be. I felt cloth beneath my flesh and the relief that washed through me was almost crippling.

"Thank god… it's only another doll." I took a moment to give it a more thorough once-over. It was one of those fake crying dolls that were once popular a few years back. Life sized children's dolls that look as though they are crying into their arms. Its' face was completely submerged beneath the water. I lowered my hand and gingerly tested the surface, only to feel scalding heat against my palm. "Ouch! It's boiling hot. I can even see the steam coming off of it. But… who would leave something like this here?"

In my mind came that memory from so many years ago; of another child, whose own face had been held above a sink very much like this. Even now, I could still feel the pores of my flesh expiring into sweat. Could still feel my veins flushed with fear… the sudden sharp pain, so foreign to me… that possessive, invasive presence… The dolls presence here and now suddenly made a strange, sick sort of sense. Sure enough when I panned the light down, I found that the child's pants had been tugged down around its' ankles, exposing a featureless backside which had nonetheless been painted a grimacing red.

"Oh yes, now I see." I murmured, looking upon the morbid display with repugnance. "Very clever. Sorry to rain on your parade." I grasped the doll by the back of the head and yanked it out of the steaming water. As I turned it over, I saw to my horror, that it was my own childhood face staring back at me; the eyes curdled to a pulp within the sockets, the flesh smoking. I shrieked and staggered back, dropping the doll and scrambling for the torch, which I had also dropped. By the time I was able to focus it back on the dolls face, it was completely blank, as it should very well have been. "Oh god…" There was a sharp pain in my chest and I set my hand against it, trying to still my heart. Of the scares that had been intended for me that night, this was the one that had struck the deepest and found its' mark in my soul. "Fuck… it's like voodoo… the mind chooses to believe what it thinks is real." I steadied my breath, trying to keep the desperate panting exhalations from tearing out of me like strokes from a blade. It was difficult… so difficult… because now I was _truly _frightened. "God, I can't let something that cheap do me in." I told myself, using my hands to push myself back up and away from the doll. I stepped around it, not looking down once as I opened the door leading to the next room and entered, closing off the memory of so many years past.

I made my way into the next room, which appropriately enough was a lounge area. The television was on and screaming static. A mannequin attired in punk male garb was lying prone on a couch, legs and arms spread akimbo. I reached over the back of the furniture and ran my finger along the side of the dolls face, feeling a smooth wooden surface; thick with ash and warm to the touch.

"The mannequin is wooden and has been completely burned." There was something protruding from the dolls limbs and I pulled the forearm down to expose the inside elbows. There were a number of syringes stuck into the crease just there, all the plungers depressed to suggest that the mannequin had administered a large amount of some sort of drug. I supposed it was indicative of heroin, if the current theme was running to my own personal nightmares. I chortled, dropping the arm back onto the couch. "Very cute. Drug overdose, huh? These mannequins seem to party hard."

There were no other doors in the room but there was a staircase on the far side that led upwards, into what I supposed was a second story area. There was a stillness to the air that I didn't much like and a spooky ambience seemed to steal across everything. The torch beam faltered, the triple A batteries almost worn down completely. I gave the small column of the torch a hard rap with my hand and the beam steadied, though the light was much dimmer than before. I could always use my lighter if worse came to worse but I was terrified of being left alone in the dark. I gazed up at the walls and they were black and slick, dripping with blood so dark it could only have come from the deepest artery of the human heart. It was pooling onto the floor in a great number of places and despite my better judgment, I found myself kneeling to dip my fingers beneath the surface. A perfect red circle formed on the edge of each fingertip as I turned my hand over in order to inspect it. The blood felt wet and disturbingly warm, as though it had just fallen from a true wound. This on its' own was disturbing but what happened next was truly frightening. Ripples fanned out from the center of the pool, as though something unseen had dropped beneath the surface. There was a wet slap and a bloodied footprint appeared beside the puddle, showing the tread of a left sneaker. The echoing sound of sniffling filled the room and the bloodied footprints fell faster and louder, heading towards the stairs. I stepped around the puddle and followed along behind the footsteps, shining the light up the stairs. The footprints progressed up into the darkness, the soft sobbing accompanying it. The shape and size of the tread looked as though it might have been that of a teenage boy; it certainly sounded as though it might have been.

I ascended each step slowly, guided by the progression of the blood stained footprints. At the very apex of the stairs I found a door set between the upper most eaves, such as in the style of an attic. The footprints seemed to have gone by without having even opened it; one footprint was cut in half by the door itself. I listened carefully for any sound that might have come from the other side but all was silence. Heart pounding at the base of my throat, I nonetheless pushed myself on towards the final absolution and slowly eased the door open, stepping into yet another bizarre room.

The opposite wall was composed of a floor to ceiling mirror. The only furniture to be found was a small sink to my immediate right, the porcelain stained black in a number of places. The footsteps continued on towards the very base of the mirror and when I looked closer, I found to my utter bewilderment, that the reflected footprints all faced _away_, as if the unseen figure had simply stepped through the mirror and continued on their sordid path. In fact, the footsteps themselves headed back towards the door and through the feet of my own reflection, as if to suggest that whoever had made the prints had left the room in the reflection. I admit; I was completely, undeniably, irretrievably _baffled _and I found myself stepping closer, common sense brushed aside as though it were of little concern at this invaluable moment.

The second I moved into the room proper, it seemed only right that the current theme of trapping my ass in undesirable locations continue. I was simply making this far too easy for the forces at play. I had just enough time to think that I would do well to prop open the door in some manner, when of course the door itself swung slowly shut behind me and eased back into the frame with a resolving 'click'. I turned around to stare at it, thinking my luck couldn't possibly have been that bad but knowing that it very well could have been.

"Shit, not again." I grabbed the door handle and tried to wrench it open but to no avail. I shoved my shoulder against it, but that still didn't help. I was just preparing to back up and take a shot at kicking the damn thing down when I felt something swat the side of my face, hard enough to leave a solid bruise against my jaw. I backed up, bringing the dim torchlight toward the ceiling and illuminating what had been until that moment, veiled in merciful shadow. A strangled sound came out of my throat but it wasn't a scream; I had nothing left in me to give. The horror of what I was being confronted with was too much.

A pair of women's legs was hanging above the doorway, kicking about as though still attached to a body that wasn't there. So far as I could tell, nothing visible was holding them there. At the point where the legs had been divided from the torso, the serration was clean and neatly rounded off; as though removed by a skilled surgeon. I backed away from this horrifying sight; reversing bodily into the sink as I focused the torchlight on the twitching, spasmodic legs.

"Oh fuck…" I whimpered, my head moving from side to side as though physically denying the existence of the twitching limbs would banish them from before my eyes. "No. No, no, no… no… I'm dreaming. This has gotta be a nightmare." My breaths tore heavily from my chest, scraping against a throat that was suddenly too raw. "It's all in your head… this spell, it's taking images out of your head and using them against you… don't give them power. Don't believe that they're real…" I shut my eyes as I said this, trying to will the legs to disappear but I was distracted by what I can only describe as a slurping sound. I looked behind me to see that the plughole in the porcelain sink was clogged with a viscous black liquid, which curdled and bubbled as it was sucked down the pipe. My eyes trailed reluctantly towards the mirror and in the reflection I saw that the tar like substance was creeping _out_ of the sink and beginning to cover the mirror version of the room. **(7)** And not just the room. It moved in sharp, vine like trails across the floor until it reached the feet of my own reflection.

I tried to step sideways, to move away from it, but the shadow like fingers snatched for my ankle as fast as snakebite. I could feel their numbing cold press against the wall of my trousers, existing only in the mirror but not when I glanced down at my real legs. I pulled against it and the tar like fingers stretched to near breaking point but would not give. It seared against my flesh, creeping up to cover my body, until my reflected image appeared completely burned. I was unable to move and was not spared the physical pain. The legs thumped bodily against the wall behind me and I could smell the burning of my own skin and hair, as my flesh turned to melted charcoal in the mirror.

"My legs… I can't… I can't move them!" An uncontrolled scream seared my throat as the burning pain crushed my body. This sensation felt all too familiar to me and yet… these were the kinds of memories that we Shinigami were fortunate to be remiss. The moment of our death… I should have known. I'd walked through this shop and seen instances of my life; moments of great pain and the manner of things that stayed with one forever. Now, I had come to the end of that journey and I was being treated to the final eclipsing moment of my life. The fire… the smoke in my lungs, the hair frazzling and curling in upon itself, the flesh peeling back from my fingers exposing whiteness that could only be bone… I felt again that blinding terror. That certainty. That knowing that even were I to survive this terrible thing; my body would be rent beyond all repair. My knees collapsed as I felt the fire burn through the tendons of the hamstring and I crashed down to the floor, wanting to roll about to ease the searing agony and extinguish the flames that were not there and yet were somehow able to consume me entirely.

"My skin's burning up! Fuck! It's killing me! Someone! _God_!" The burning flame soaked through the flesh of my throat and deeper still, strangling off my voice, so the scream that followed thereafter came as little more than a throaty gurgle. The pitch escalated, the pain rising to the degree that I longed for my life to finish then and there, if only to be free from it. Smoke drifted up from my body as my reflection burst into flame and danced along with me to the beat of writhing agony. The legs continued to dance madly in the background. And in the mirror, the door behind me slowly eased open, though the true version remained firmly closed.

Through the smoke and the pain, both of which seared my eyes, I saw a man enter casually from the darkness of the reflected hall. He was immense in size; broad shouldered, sturdy and imposing. A wide brimmed hat shielded most of his face from my scrutiny but I knew who it was. Maybe I had known that this moment was waiting for me since I had seen those marks on the backs of the girls' ears. Somehow… Konoe had been wrong. He wasn't in Hell. Hell was right here with me.

"No… no!" I felt my lips form the strangled words of disbelief but nothing more eloquent than a rasping cough fell from my scorching lips. "No, it can't be… That's _impossible_!

A long thin lipped smile curled over the mans square chin as he moved around the burning reflection of myself. I couldn't see his eyes from the gloom beneath the hats brim but I knew on what they rested. I pulled with all my might to escape the shadowed bonds that clenched about my ankle, dragging at the floor with my nails as the tormentor from my dark memories stepped clean out of the mirror, holding something aloft in one hand. To my horror I saw that it was a child's severed head; the face wrenched as though the skin of the neck had been pulled downward. Fresh drops of blood fell from the ragged serration, leaving a bright red trail in his wake.

Blind terror and rage shook my body in the same breath, shattering the hold the shadows of pain had on me. I pulled free, staggering up onto the balls of my feet and slamming against the door, reaching between the legs to pull at the handle. I yanked and tugged desperately, the lock creaking in the doors foundations as I slammed my entire body weight against it. I glanced behind me and saw the monstrous man reach over his shoulder, pulling a huge, bloodstained Chinese bone cleaver into view. It was abnormally large; a meter or so in length; out of proportion for its' intended use. He lowered it to his side, holding it directly horizontal to the ground and brought it back as far as his arm would extend, as though lining up a shot in eight ball. I wondered if I could dodge the attack; allow it to plow open the door for me so that I could escape. But the man moved much faster than my mind. He drove the cleaver forwards, slamming the tip of it directly into my solar plexus and blowing me backwards through the door. I felt the breath blow out of my body in a forced exhalation and renewed pain raced through my entire torso as I was lifted through the air, missing the stairs entirely. I tried to prepare my body for the impact but from that height, there was little I could do to cushion myself.

I came crashing down, the center of my back slamming against the back of the couch on which the mannequin lay and knocking fresh pain through my body. I bounced to one side and collapsed onto the floor, huffing between both rows of teeth, bearing down against the pain. I was in shear agony. My ribs were cracked clean through where the cleaver had struck me and something in my back had sustained serious injury when I had crash-landed against the couch. The blow had done something dreadful to me. I could hear my own stertorous breathing and a curdling bubble that seemed to come from deep within my lungs. I most likely had internal bleeding. There was blood spurting out of my mouth with every effortful breath and my chin and neck felt wet from it. I'd been knocked senseless; my brain was rattled and my neck ached from where it had snapped forward when I'd connected with the back of the furniture. I was afraid to think anymore on my injuries, for fear that worse may have been in store.

There was a thudding noise coming from behind me and I rolled over just far enough to see the severed head of the child come bouncing down the steps behind me and roll forward until my legs ceased its' journey. I groaned in pain and disgust, turning myself just enough to escape the lifeless, unseeing eyes of the unknown victim and registered pain throughout my entire body. My ears rang as I pushed myself up onto my elbows and then my knees, favoring the bruising to my stomach as I stumbled up. Beyond the pounding of blood in my temples, I could plainly hear the scraping, mocking call of the man's cleaver as he dragged it along behind him. It thudded down from step to step as he descended, making his cruel, sinister way toward me.

I stumbled into the center of the room and went down onto my front again, staring over my shoulder in terror to see how close my pursuer was to catching me. The mannequin sat up suddenly on the couch and its head turned atop the motionless body until it was facing towards me. The Cleaver Man paid it little heed and instead leant down to scoop up the child's head, as though it were nothing more than a misplaced orange, fallen free from a shopping bag. He held it beneath the severed neck, the trailing arteries falling between the gaps of his fingers as he lifted it to face height and subjected it to a thorough appraisal. My bloodied jaw almost became unhinged as the monstrous fiend then moved to do the unthinkable and pressed his lips lovingly over the pale mouth of the cadaver, relinquishing his tongue into the confines of the mouth with a moan that was purely hideous. I whimpered in disgust and terror, expelling more blood onto the floor as I tried again to pull myself onto my feet but found that my legs were no longer able to move. The mannequin's fingers curled over the top of the couch, its' expressionless face still entirely focused on me. With a creaking crack of splintering wood, the mannequin rose to its' feet and came around the side of the couch, making its' idle way towards me. The floor was now bloody beneath me, whether from my own injuries or by those pools that continued to form from the leaks in the ceiling. It nonetheless provided me with a half-assed lubricant and I used this to try and drag myself along, using my arms to get as far away from the encroaching horrors as possible.

There was a squelching crunch behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see that the Cleaver Man had just crushed the child's head beneath his large foot, splattering gore everywhere. He advanced toward me; languidly, taking his time. I renewed my struggle with as much verve as I could handle but all my efforts seemed to be coming from a long way away. My body was devastated and my healing abilities didn't seem to be working in this strange place. I could feel my mouth trickling blood at a steady rate, and I felt the pain of my bruised spine and splintered ribs but what was most horrifying to me was what I couldn't feel.

I couldn't feel my legs.

My abdomen was heavy; as though it were weighed down with concrete and my skin ached. My vision was even worse than usual too. I was just starting to think that I was in _very _serious trouble when the floor suddenly went out from underneath me.

I was on my back, staring up into the cloaked face of the Cleaver man. He had my ankle in his hand and he was pulling me back towards him, that ever curlicue smile worming across his face. The sensation that had held me hostage in the upstairs room no longer had presence and I screamed with every remaining ounce of strength in my body. The memories were flooding in; the childhood fears, the monstrosities that had been committed against me by this… impossible dark thing I thought I had left behind so long ago. I felt the cruelty and the evil roll off of him like pungent waves. What could he have intended for me? How could I have ever hoped to escape from him again? He had always been there; at the corner of my mind, in those darkest of places one can never truly be free of.

"No! NO! Get off me! GET OFF OF ME! NOOO!" I grabbed the side of the couch and clung onto it with all my might, making a vain attempt to escape from the clutches of the cleaver man. He pulled at me with such strength that my fingers almost snapped at the joints and I was turned over onto my back. One large foot came crashing down against my chest, holding me in place as the nightmare raised the cleaver up high above his head, preparing to bring it down. It all happened so quickly; it seems so simple now to say that this could so easily have been the moment that I lost my life again. In that space of time, however, I could not reason with what was unfolding. I threw my arms up, meaning to block the blow even if it should mean losing both arms in the process, as I was likely to do. An ear piercing scream of horror burst out of me as the huge man dropped the cleaver down with such force it seemed to me that he might have split a car in two. The pressure struck me and I felt the pain of the blade sink beneath my flesh, the warmness of the blood spilling out from the incisions-

and then –

A flash of light, so strong and white it burned my eyes. There was stillness, perhaps a passing unconscious slip in time and then I was jerking up, throwing my arms forward to strike at the man who had pinned me down. My palms slashed the air, my mouth forming the words, "GET AWAY-" only to see that in that split second, everything had returned to how it once was.

The cleaver man was gone. I was lying on the floor of the sitting area of a closed shop and everything seemed perfectly normal. The television was switched off and the couch was empty, save for a number of tacky cushions with kitten cross-stitching on the covers. I murmured to myself, sitting up hurriedly and looking about in shock.

"What…? Where is-?" I looked around but I couldn't see the horrible figure from the mirror anywhere. The shop was dark, closed obviously but completely normal. I held a hand to my chest, breathing in and out slowly. My injuries were no longer there. I wriggled my legs and was relieved to find that they were in good shape. I breathed in and out experimentally and was satisfied with the resulting ache. The only true pain I felt was in the center of my back, so perhaps I had taken that tumble down the stairs after all. Still, it wasn't so bad that it was unbearable. Sitting up took quite a bit of effort but I managed it. My body was weak and I trembled a little; sort of like when I had recovered from Glandular fever as a young boy. My body registered that it had survived something dreadful. I sighed with relief. "What's happening to me…?" My eyes darted back and forth, unable to concentrate on my thoughts or indeed gather them together in any comprehensible manner. "Maybe I _have _been affected by the mana radiation in the library last night…? Fuck… there's no known cure for mana radiation and the effects of any number of cases are completely randomized. What if I have to deal with hallucinations like this for the rest of my afterlife." I exhaled deeply, eyes starting to tear over. "I don't think I can… it was so real… Fuck, what if it happens to Tsuzuki too?" I staggered to my feet, brushing my backside off. "That's what she would have seen coming for her… and I let that happen. I fucked up somehow. This is a fitting punishment."

Once I was certain that I was well enough to make a move, I made my way back through the shop; its' appearance mercifully different to what I had been previously subjected to. No mannequins jumped out to nab me, no weird tendrils of darkness snagged my ankles, no man from the mirror tried to lop my head off with an oversized kitchen utensil. And yet, the fear was still there, weighing down against my chest. And the guilt… somehow, and I wasn't as of yet sure how precisely, _I _was the cause of this. The girls who had been murdered at Kokakuro… I could only fathom that my actions those long years ago, had in some way contributed to it.

The shop door was open and the mannequins all stood in their sentry line by the window, gazing out a clean window onto a busy Saturday night Tokyo street. I pushed my way out onto the sidewalk, pulling the door shut behind me and hearing the lock latch into place. It took a moment to get my bearings but I was able to work my way back towards _Sîné's_ without too many missteps. Once there, however, I couldn't bring myself to go in and face everyone. There was no explaining what I had just gone through and yet it was so immense, I felt that I had to deal with it somehow. The pain that threatened to crush my mind down to pulverized fragments pressed deeper into me still, until I felt as though a great torrent was driving me down beneath the currents of the sea. All those terrible memories from my childhood… what I had suffered and what my family had suffered in turn… Because of it, my family had been slowly and painfully poisoned; until it was no longer anything that could even resemble what had once been a happy family. And now, that same venomous creature had slithered its' way back into my life and sunk its' fangs into what little remained of me on earth. If I were any sort of man; I wouldn't have made such a crucial mistake. It should _never _have come to this. He should _never _have been able to lay a hand against her.

I wasn't exactly big on self-pity but right then and there, I collapsed into a moment of weakness and wasn't able to surface. I paced outside the club and finally ended up sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette as guilt and fear continued to wash up against me, like waves persistently beating against the shore.A few passerbies's naturally asked if I was wasted and it no doubt appeared that way. They all wandered off eventually but one man chose to hang around. It took me about a minute to actually take notice of him. And when I did, it was with a start. He was a larger man; a halter like myself and broad shouldered, just like the creature I had seen in my vivid delusions. He smiled down at me and did an awkward shuffling two-step on the spot; evidence that he was drunk. Or well on the way to being drunk. Or maybe he just needed to pee, who the fuck knows?

"Hey, I remember you." He drawled and I had to wonder if it had taken him the whole five minutes to figure this out. I gave him an indolent look, not particularly interested in making conversation. Not that he was in any fit state of mind to notice by that stage. "Yeah, you were dancing in _Sîné's_ tonight with that purple eyed guy. You looked pretty good up there." He indicated my cigarette. "Don't suppose I could bum one, could I?"

I offered the packet emotionlessly. "Be my guest."

My new 'friend' slid one of the white cylinders out of the packet and then borrowed my lighter. He took a few drags on the cigarette and then, as so often happens when smokers gather outside of clubs, he started to blather on, inconsequentially. I barely heard a word he said. All the while my mind kept racing, as I looked him over, thinking to myself about how he physically reminded me of the man I just saw in my vision. It scared the crap out of me. I mused over that thick, heavy veil of guilt, which draped itself across my chest… I wanted to absolve myself of it. This intended act would be a fitting reward then, to understand her fear. And little different to going to the teacher for a cuff across the hands. It was simply a matter of biting your lip and taking it. My mind made up, I stubbed out my cigarette and then gestured to the man, bringing his latest blithering drabble up short.

"Come down here, would ya?" I said, gesturing over my shoulder to _Sîné's _side alley, cloaked in shadow and gratefully vacant.

The mans look of surprise quickly morphed to one brimming with innuendo. "Um… yeah, all right. You got something in mind?" He grinned as he ground out his cigarette and trotted along in my wake. I was careful to not draw the attention of the bouncers as I entered the alley, moving as far down as I dared, shielded from the eyes of the street by a dumpster, near to overflowing with recyclable goods. I leaned up against the wall with my thighs parted just enough to suggest he might have filled that space if he desired. It was cheap and audacious of me and I was surprised to find I could have actually gone through with such a thing. There was the high probability that the man would refuse me, for a myriad of reasons and yet even that rejection would have been some sort of punishment and degradation. I needed that; like an addict pined for their next needle.

I raised my hand to the curve of my chin, pressing one finger against my lip and tracing it along. "You gonna fuck me, or ya need a written invitation or somethin'?" I watched the mans eyes, witness to his unmistakable drunken hunger as I unbuckled my colorful pants and turned around, pressing my cheek against the wall. I didn't want to have to look at him; I would have the face of the Cleaver Man in my mind as I was taken. I wanted the full fear and horror that she must have felt; this was the only punishment befitting my negligence. It was the very thing that frightened me most. "Just do me one favor and make it rough, would ya?"

The man was silent for some time and I thought for a moment that he had turned around and left. But when I looked over my shoulder, I saw him standing there still, eyes blurred and an expression, which plainly said he wasn't quite sure what was happening. "… You are one seriously interesting guy…" He seemed to come to his decision however, because he started approaching me, unhooking his own belt as he came. I couldn't decide whether it was relief I felt. Mostly, the fear was shuddering and encompassing, overshadowing all other minor thoughts. "Think I can manage that though."

He moved in behind me and set his hands around either side of my hips, pulling my pants down in order to expose my backside. He dragged the jeans down only as far as my knees, constricting my movement considerably but that may very well have been on purpose, to get better friction on his part. I separated my knees as much as possible, biting down on my lip as I felt what was undeniably a slickened finger push against my rectum and penetrate deeply, moving in and out in order to stretch me. The mans breath huffed in not quite rhythmic pants beside my ear, so I had a fairly good idea of what his other hand was doing.

"What the Hell are you playin' at?" I snapped, reaching back to snag the mans dipping wrist, ceasing its' movement inside of me. "I don't need you playing nice; I said to make it rough. Now, hurry up and get in there before I get bored."

He sounded a little put out by this. "Easy chap, I gotta get the old man hard first."

I pulled on his wrist, yanking his finger out of my body and then used the same hand to grasp a hold of his cock instead. "Give it here, I'll do it for ya." I tried not to think of how supremely tacky this all was as I worked my palm and fingers over his cock, until it was good and hard. I didn't give my new friend the option of commencing the next act. I simply positioned myself and pushed back onto his thick erection. I felt the sensitive canals tearing as it went in hard and deep, forcing me up onto the tips of my toes. I winced and groaned in pain. "That's it…" I gasped, recognizing that painful penetration. Feeling that surge of fear and grief sweep up and strike at me. "Now… talk down to me."

The stranger panted into my ear as he thrust his hips forward, pushing my own groin against the wall hard enough to make me bite part way through my lip. "Whaddya mean, 'Talk down to ya?'"

I groaned at his lack of imagination. "Say horrible things. I don't care, just say the worst things you can think of."

He grabbed me by the upper arms and slammed into me again and again, uncontrollably. That familiar coppery smell came to my nose all of a sudden and a warm wetness was trickling down the backs of my thighs. I was obviously bleeding quite a bit on the inside, which meant I was getting exactly what I was asking for. "You fucking tight little bastard! I'll make you sorry…" He slammed into me again and clearly held nothing back in his drunken state. I felt that last thrust in the back of my throat.

"Worse than that." I groaned, fingers clenching against the wall, fingertips scraped raw upon the concrete. "Come on."

I felt blood dribble along the back of my right ankle as the stranger reached over my head to brace against the wall with his hands, slamming into me as though I were a nail he intended to drive into the concrete and he the hammer. "I'm gonna turn you inside out, you cheap whore. You don't deserve any better than this. No one else would ever wanna fuck you. You're dirty. You're cheap. This is all you deserve."

These were the kind of words I needed to hear and I felt it in a kind of dream like haze, my eyes starting to tear over for the memory of it. "Yes… yes that's right. I shouldn't even be… alive…"

My punishment fell short as the man with whom I was liaising, suddenly emitted a high pitched shriek and toppled away from me, leaving a great empty chasm in my body, slickened by blood. I heard him hit the ground heavily behind me.

"Nng! Jesus, what the hell-?" I grabbed for my pants, looking around, expecting to see that the bouncers had caught us. That would have been preferable to who was actually standing there.

Orias distributed a kick into the strangers' side and turned then to look upon me with an expression caught between amusement and distaste.

"Well," He said, tapping the bridge of his glasses before then offering me a rather pointy looking smile, which made me think he found something very funny about all this. "I'd very much like to know just what you were thinking, Watari-san. But my guess is, you weren't thinking much at all."

"You didn't have any right to interfere with that." I snapped, pulling up my pants and zipping them. "It's the only way to absolve myself at the moment."

"Next time, absolve yourself in some other place besides our alleyway, won't you? Public fornication _is _against the law, you know." He stepped on the man who had seconds earlier been fucking me senseless and stood in front of me. "Absolve yourself by finding the cunt that did this terrible thing to those women, not by turning yourself into a human shit tin." I gathered that Ichibana must have informed him of the specifics of my case. How generous of it. "I'm sure Ichibana has come to expect more of her master. I certainly never thought the day would come when I'd be dragging your skeet stained ass out of a filthy alleyway. Even with the way I'm feeling right now, I'd certainly never sink to this."

"Well, aren't you just the epitome of high class moral standards, Orias."

The demon smiled pleasantly. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear the sarcasm in that, Watari-san. Now come on, I'm taking you back to your Shinigami friends and they should hopefully throw you in a very sterile bath. God knows what this filthy bastard was carrying."

I yanked my arm away as he reached for it and before I quite knew what I was doing; I was swinging my other hand up to collect the side of his face. It was like slapping the trunk of a tree and I felt the impact ricochet down through my arm, jarring my wrist. Orias' eyes widened behind his glasses and he seemed truly and utterly surprised by what I had done. He stared at me with innocent perplexity as I nursed my throbbing wrist and cussed quietly to myself.

"It's so easy for you to stand there and cast aspersions on the way that we human beings act, Orias." I snapped, stepping over the unconscious fellow and away from the wheelie bin. "It's so easy to believe that we're all simply selfish and weak and craving for immediate gratification, given our lives are so repugnantly short. But I'm not at all sure what to believe when I look at you. _How _could you do that to Ichibana? How could you turn it away without an explanation for why?"

"How did this become about Ichibana all of a sudden?" Orias asked, his eyes still focused on the wall against which I had been leaning.

"Because when I looked at the two of you, I saw the very best that love could be. For any of us." I said, holding my wrist tightly and flexing my fingers in order to restore the feeling in them. "You Underdwellers are so languorously patient that there's nothing cheap about your partnering. You didn't rush Ichibana off to bed; so far as I knew it was at least a year before the two of you became in any way physical. It was like an unconditional love and by God, don't we _all _wish we could be loved like that?" I raked my hair back out of my eyes and stared at him, desperately pleading for this strange creature to understand the mortal angle in all of this. "Don't you see that? Don't you see how difficult it is for any one of us to love and be loved in that way? How can you just throw that away? It's so insulting!"

Orias eyes slowly slanted in at the corners and he turned his face toward me, lips pressed so tightly together that the lines around his mouth met like a spider web. It was only then that I could see just how brightly the lights reflected off of his eyes, as though they were made of glass.

"I apologize if I don't live my life considering how my actions might seem selfish in the eyes of everyone else," He said, a slight edge to his voice that preceded imminent danger. "And I understand that to you it seems as though I myself have done an unreasonable and irrational thing to someone that I care for deeply. But you don't have the luxury of understanding where I am coming from and why I have made this horrendous choice." He placed his hand over his chest, gloved fingers clenched above the cavity in which rested the heart. "No matter how deeply you might love someone, how desperate you are to never hurt them, it still won't ever change the harsh reality of the world. This pain now, in this moment will pass for Ichibana. She's old and very strong and has been through hardships long before you even came into this world, Watari-san. This brief glimpse in time, this momentary loss will serve to protect her from an even more agonizing pain that will surely come in the future. As the person who loves her most, I made the decision based in her best interests. To protect her."

"Protect her?" I exclaimed, unable to reconcile his reasoning. "Orias, I don't know what the hell is going on to make you think you need to give up your time together but this just seems like nonsense to me! If you love her just fight for her, let her know what you're afraid of and face it together."

Orias' hand suddenly darted out and punched through the side of the wheelie bin, clasping a hold of the metal between his fist. With a slight grunt of effort, he twisted his body sideways and tossed the enormous bin into the opposite wall, caving in the double-sided lid and bursting the sides, causing bottles, cardboard and assorted recyclable goods to clatter and break upon the ground. It made the most god-awful noise, as though a plane had just dropped a small bomb in the middle of the Tokyo prefecture. And it sure as Hell gave me a nasty fright. I held my arms up in front of my face to guard against the broken glass of the bottles as they imploded upon the ground. Orias flexed the fingers of his single hand and turned now to look at me, his face expressionless. Curious eyes peered down the alleyway from the street but one curt gesture from the demon sent them scurrying away again.

"Your boorish human psychiatry doesn't interest me in the least, Watari-san," Orias said softly, the remains of the bin creaking painfully in the background. "I know you haven't had an easy life yourself, so you better than any of your ignorant race should understand that love isn't a magical salve that can grace all wounds. No, it's hard and painful and real. It doesn't mean that by staying together you can somehow overcome everything. Sometimes love, _real love_, is knowing when to let go. Understanding when the other person can't understand that you're not right for them. That you'll never be able to give them everything that they need, no matter how much you might try and convince yourself otherwise. And sometimes love is simply using your brain; because love can make that an awfully difficult thing to do at times." He pointed to the overturned bin and its' contents spilling out like the crushed head of the child in my delusion. "I am very strong. And very fast. For all my kindness and compassion, I am not unlike any other Underdweller. We are all capable of immense cruelty and violence. The same can be said of you humans." He took a step closer. "Or can it? The way that your Ministry tries to stomp us out whenever we raise our heads… In truth, every year human beings kill more than 86 per cent of its' own kind than demons do. In the few thousand years that you have dominated this planet, you have warred more amongst yourselves than the Underdwellers ever did. Domestic violence rates among humans who are _supposed _to love one another is catastrophic when compared to how we treat our paramours. Your youth run rampant on the streets, drinking and screaming and playing and showing utter disrespect to their elders. You harvest fellow animals who share flesh not dissimilar to your own, you destroy the land to erect these monumental travesties of glass and stone and you… seek immediate and utter gratification and self-destruction because you live for such a short time and you haven't the patience for anything true and beautiful." He gestured to the unconscious man on the floor of the alley, who hadn't so much as stirred throughout our entire conversation. "So please don't stand there and try to lecture me on matters you seem to think that I am remiss of. I have watched your kind evolve for over five hundred years and at the very core of your being, I know that you have changed very little from that which you have always been." He gave a slight smile and it might have seemed cruel, if not for the patient kindness in his eyes. "Why do you call _us _the demons, Watari-san? It is mankind that has created its' own hell. Demons are nothing more than the very darkest place of our own mind. It lives in the hearts of the weak and the wounded. It is what brought you down this alleyway tonight, my friend. Hell is where we make it. It will be my every waking moment now that I have sent away the one bright and beautiful thing in my life but that is the choice I made. Maybe you'll understand that one day; if you ever truly love someone beyond all thought of human selfishness."

His eyes seemed to glow, as vibrant and yellow as the moon in harvest time. Orias was often so softly spoken and almost shy in his manner that it was altogether too easy to forget just how old he truly was. Beyond those glimmering eyes was the evidence of decades lived amongst my own people, so far removed from my time of existence that I couldn't even possibly begin to understand them the way that he did. In a sense, I could fathom just where he was coming from. The Underdwellers all possessed significant extremes of emotions. Grief was overwhelming, anger was encompassing and love was deep and enveloping. I suppose to them, we human beings did indeed look cheap and superficial. We gave ourselves over too easily and thoughtlessly, we moved on from love as if it were something that could be forgotten and our lives were lived at the expense of just about everything else on the planet, including each other.

Suddenly and completely, I was sickened with myself. No wonder Orias' had lost his temper. I had stood there and lectured him about doing the right thing, when I had been the one to succumb to a weak and trivial need for punishment. What I had done was so… selfish. Why should I have the right to absolve myself in such a repugnant fashion? The courageous thing to do would be to live with my feelings, no matter how painful and use them to fuel my search for the monster that had killed and mutilated those poor girls.

"Oh, Orias…" I said, reaching out to brace my hand against the wall beside me. I lowered my head and pressed my fingers to my forehead, feeling a headache worming its' way into my brain. "I'm such a god damn pillock."

"Indeed," He observed, smiling good-naturedly. "It would do my conscience good however, if you were to promise here and now not to give yourself over again to such degrading instances of self-pity in the future." He pulled out his handkerchief and tossed it to me, indicating to his own lip to suggest that I wipe the blood from my own. "Despite how I feel about humans in general, I'm rather fond of my Shinigami customers as it were. And you are Ichibana's master. I'd like to think that you were worthy of that mantel at all times."

I wiped the blood away, running my tongue over the healing line of my lip before folding the handkerchief into a neat little square and holding it out for Orias to take. He gestured for me to keep it.

"Some of the issues you have with us does worry me a bit, Orias-san." I confessed, pocketing the little square. I noticed my fly was still undone and Orias was kind enough to be distracted by something unremarkable to the left as I zipped it back up. "But you're right about one thing; I do need to push past selfish inconsequential things and do what I know needs to be done. For the greater good."

"There's that plucky 'can't keep a good Shinigami down' spirit we Underdwellers all know and hate," Orias said cheerfully. He held a finger to his chin and looked thoughtfully towards the sky. "There was something else I had to do… Oh, that's right." My jaw was suddenly slammed sideways by a sharp slap to the cheek and I gasped loudly, holding my hand up to nurse the developing bruise and shooting Orias a very nasty glare.

"What the blue blazes was _that _for?"

The demon shrugged lazily. "Well, I've been slapped more than once tonight myself and it seemed prudent that I might have the chance to return the favor at some point."

"But slapping you did more damage to me then it did you, I'm sure!" I protested, wriggling my limp wrist about as evidence. A groan came from right behind Orias and the unconscious man started slowly lifting his head, looking about bleary eyed in confusion. Orias' eyes closed into perfect little upside down U's and he smiled in a very beautiful fashion, which meant he was about to do something not so nice, I had learnt.

"Well, I rather think you deserved it anyway," He said in response to my outrage over the slap. "Take _that _as recompense for your bad mood. Now, I'd best be getting you back to the others. They've been looking for you everywhere, you know."

"Hey… what the hell happe-" The guy murmured, reaching out a shaking hand as though asking for assistance. Without so much as turning around, Orias kicked his heel up into the guys' lower jaw with such force that I heard his teeth clack violently together. He keeled over backwards and toppled out of sight into the mess of cardboard and other junk that had fallen out of the bin. He gave a pained groan, so I knew that he was still alive thank goodness.

"My, my, I must get around to having my hearing checked. I thought for sure I heard some nasty, nasally voice grating at me just then but there's no one there at all," Orias said, twirling his finger about in his ear with a complacent smile. "Well, there's no accounting for old age, I suppose. Anyhow, let's get going, Watari-san."

I sighed as Orias looped his arm through mine and started to lead me back towards the entrance of the alley. "Orias…? Let's not ever mention this to Tsuzuki, okay?"

"He won't hear about it from me. I haven't the time to spread malicious gossip, not with what I earn on an hourly rate." He seemed to notice that I was still a little melancholy and transferred his arm to around my waist, switching now to English, with which he seemed considerably more comfortable. "Perk up now… do you suppose that Mibu chappie's going to look at you like this? A good nights rest and a few Tylenol will go a long way, I should think."

I gave him a crooked smile. "Ichibana had time to tell you all of this stuff?"

Orias snorted ungainly. "We _do _talk, you know. That's the foundation of a meaningful relationship." We emerged out from the end of the alley and moved to the employees' entrance at the front of the bar; I gathered that this led down into the Paranormal section of _Sîné's_. Orias' expression seemed terribly pensive now that we were clear of the dark restrictions of the alley and it occurred to me then that Ichibana was not the only one whose heart had been broken that night.

"Orias," I began. "You know, I don't really understand why you've made this choice to leave Ichibana. And maybe it's because I've never been in love quite the same way as the two of you. But," He gave me a little warning look but I plowed ahead, determined to say my piece. "I think it would be awful for the two of you to be apart. I really hope you can work through whatever this is and be together again. I'm sorry if I sound like a naïve human but there it is."

Orias stared at me for a moment and then gave a tired smile as though recognizing the validity to my words. "You do sound naïve. But I much prefer it to the cold reality of being enlightened." He petted my waist in a friendly way. "I hope for that very thing too. I'm just afraid it might take some time."

I could only laugh at this. "What do immortals have but time? You know, there is nothing quite so tiresome as the past, except perhaps the future."

He laughed at this. "How very true, indeed, Watari-san. I couldn't have put it better myself."

We made our way back down into the basement area of _Sîné's _to find the others all getting ready to go. Konoe had his tie wrapped around his head like a bandanna and his arm looped around the waist of the Chinese waitress, who seemed quite prepared to go home with him. Orias immediately left my side to safely extricate her from this fate. Terazuma as far as I could tell was dead and clearly had been for some time. Tatsumi was holding him up and didn't look at all pleased at being lumbered with the responsibility. He kept muttering, 'Drunk on a Wednesday night, how disgusting!' from the corner of his mouth as Wakaba just smiled nervously at the two of them, no doubt wondering how this might have affected their work in the morning.

Tsuzuki came running up to meet me, a smile on his face and a swab plastered firmly to his neck, held in place by a strip of bandages. He looked as though he were wearing a bizarre surgical choker. I guessed one of the vampires might have gotten in with a nip at some point. I wondered if this had been the one Voldur was wrestling out of the club when I'd been sneaking into the Employee area.

"Watari, there you are!" Tsuzuki observed, flinging his arms around my neck and holding on for dear life. He smelt like a brewery and I wondered how drunk he was. He'd acted like I'd been gone for two days rather than an hour and a half at the most. "We've been looking EBRYWARE for you!"

"_Everywhere _not _ebryware_." Hisoka tiredly corrected as Saya and Yuma held him up between them. I could see daylight between the boys treads and the floor but the girls weren't showing any effort at all in keeping him elevated.

"Yes, yes, he went for a cigarette and took a little moonlight wanderer with an admirer," Orias graciously lied, tugging away the little waitress who continued to stare at Konoe even as she wound her arms around Orias' side obediently. I supposed Orias was sort of like the paternal figure in this bar. "Seems he just lost track of time. I explained to him that you were all a little concerned and hurried him back here."

"Sorry if I made you guys worry." I said, trying to pry Tsuzuki's arms away from my neck before he cut off all oxygen to my brain. A little snore issued from the vicinity of my throat and I realized that the daft old codger had fallen asleep with his elbows locked in a death grip. I gave up on freeing myself and lowered my arms to my side, causing Tsuzuki's legs to buckle and he hung off of my shoulders, still snoring away, quite undisturbed. "Anyway, I should be getting home now. I need to be fighting fit in the morning, after all!"

"Yes, we should all be turning in." Tatsumi agreed, looking just as put out by his own neck adornment in the form of a drooling Terazuma. "Let's head back together." He turned to nod at Orias who was in the midst of sweeping up empty glasses with a flick of his finger. "Thankyou for your kind hospitality this evening, Crowley-san."

I flashed Orias a private look of thanks and he smiled back, offering us all a deep bow as he thanked us for our patronage. It wasn't far back to the _Sakura Zensen _but considering that half of us were drunk and or unconscious, we decided to take a couple of taxi's and bundled ourselves and our beer bloated burden's inside. It was almost embarrassing when the nine of us came stumbling in, past the night watchmen who looked most surprised by the fact that our Chief seemed the drunkest of the lot; not to mention that two of the crew were being carried aloft. We bundled on board the elevator and rode up, making a few stops along the way to deposit a few people on the appropriate floors. Wakaba gave both Tsuzuki and I a kiss on the cheek before she disembarked on the same floor as Tatsumi, who was dragging Terazuma to his apartment and setting him to rights. I think Wakaba went along as crisis control or some such thing. Maybe she was afraid that Tatsumi was going to leave the taxicab receipt on Terazuma's chest with payment instructions for when he was sober. Not that it would have surprised me in the least.

Hisoka took it upon himself to help the Chief back to his apartment after Saya and Yuma reluctantly headed back to their temporary stay room. After that, Tsuzuki and I were the last to disembark and it was with some effort that I finally managed to untangle him from around my neck and hair and roll him into his own bed for the night. It was a tiring effort and my night had been challenging enough already, so I was near exhausted by the time I managed to get my own apartment unlocked. I staggered inside, just about caving in on my knees then and there but I managed to compose myself.

Ichibana glanced up from the couch, eyes bloodshot and makeup run to buggery. "Güttentag," It said throatily, tilting its' wine glass from side to side in means of greeting. The floor and table were littered with tin foil; it seemed as though Ichibana had munched its' way through an entire block of Fruit n' Nut chocolate and was now making a certifiable dent in a big box of strawberry flavored Pocky. There was also an empty wine bottle on the floor but I was hardly going to begrudge it a night of righteous indulgence. Breakups were tough.

Ichibana noticed me looking at the mess and seemed strangely proud. "See? Told ya ye can trust me. Why should I need to go and suck up a soul when I can sit here soundly and get fat instead?" It laughed bitterly, the wine glass pressed against its' considerably rosy lips. "Why not? After all, it's not as though anyone will care if my ass gets as big as Cwalalumpa."

"Orias wouldn't have cared anyway," I said reasonably but Ichibana just gave me a look as if to say I wasn't holding up my side of the conversation. Friends were supposed to help you curse and call the horrible boyfriend names when he broke it off with you, not remind you of their good qualities. How many numerous. "I mean… he's an ass. In fact, he's the _biggest_ ass around. Your ass could never even rival just how big of an ass he is." I gestured grandiosely with my hands. "His big-ass-titude is SO enormous, that even the largest ass on all the planet, in all the dimensions, couldn't even _begin _to compare to just how much of a colossal ass that he-"

Ichibana held up a hand. "Okay, okay, thankyou. I appreciate the effort but let's not run him too far into the ground, that wouldn't be fair." It polished off the last of its' wine and gave the smallest of smiles. "Even if he is the biggest ass in all existence."

I gave a very tired salute. "Glad to see you're rallying. Anyhow, I'm going to go and take a bath and then I'm going to hop into bed." I flexed my shoulders in a kittenish manner. "Gotta look extra cute for the handsome samurai in the morning."

I made my way up the hall towards the supply closet, when I heard Ichibana stagger to its' feet behind me. "Watari," It called softly. "Did something happen to you tonight?"

My heart gave a little thump in my chest as I turned to face the djinni, whose eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

"What do you mean?" I asked, pulling down a couple of towels from the rack and balancing them in the crook of my arm. Ichibana moved into the hall and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over its' narrow chest.

"I don't know… just a feeling, I suppose." It offered, looking just as confused as I felt. It scratched its' head curiously, looking a little put out. "There's a strange smell on you… the same smell you had after the Tachiagari last night."

"What? B.O?" I asked, purposefully ignorant. Inside I was screaming for some of this to make sense and before I quite realized it, I just blurted it out, everything that had happened that night, everything I had seen. Ichibana looked increasingly troubled as I spoke, which did little to reassure me that this was a matter that could be remedied. By the time I had finished up, the bath was run and I was marinating in the water, Ichibana sitting cross legged on the closed toilet, staring contemplatively at its' folded hands. I ran a bar of soap down over my leg and waited for it to say something, to make sense of what had happened.

Finally, the djinni sighed and raked its' fingers back through its' hair, working out the various pins and combs that held its' elaborate hairstyle in place. The shoulder length waves fell free and swung about its' pale, tear stained face.

"Well?" I finally queried, unable to take the uncomfortable silence much longer. "Do you reckon its' some form of _mana _radiation? Or a spell that can make your inner most delusions take form? I haven't heard of such a thing myself but like the great man that was Shakespeare once wrote; 'There are greater things in Heaven and Hell, Horatio.'"

"Greater and more terrible things," Ichibana murmured, looking solemnly off to the side as though thinking back on sordid memories. I sighed wearily, scooping my hair back into a loose ponytail to keep it out of the water before then leaning both arms on the side of the tub and staring up at my friend and servant.

"Ichibana, please don't be cryptic with me. Tell me what you're thinking."

It looked at me with sad eyes, too deep and wholesome to ever be entirely plundered in the brief second our gazes met. "Oh, honey, there are too many things that I am thinking at the moment. I'm very concerned about what's happening and I hope that given a bit of time I can help you understand this." It stepped down off of the toilet and kneeled by the bath, clasping both hands over my own and stared at me imploringly. "But I haven't a firm answer at this time. And I…" It's eyelashes fluttered timorously and tears began to well, falling upon its' pale cheeks like little diamond droplets. Its' lips trembled with unbidden emotion and I felt terrible then for asking anything of it, when the pain of its' separation was still so raw.

"Ichibana, I'm so sorry." I said, looping my arm around its' slender neck and allowing its face to press to my shoulder, body heaving with small, quiet sobs. "I shouldn't have even brought it up, not when you have so much to deal with at the moment."

"Don't be ridiculous," It said, voice a little muffled against my skin. "For goodness sake, what happened to you was terrifying and it needs to be spoken of. I mean to do everything I can to help you get to the bottom of it but right now, at this moment…" It pulled away, wiping its' eyes and smiling embarrassingly. "I feel like such a poor excuse for a servant. There should be no limitations for what I would do for my master."

"I like to think of you more as a friend," I said, running my palm down Ichibana's soft, round cheek, wondering again what could have possibly been going through Orias' mind for him to surrender a life with such a divine and beautiful creature. "If you want to help me with something now though, maybe you'd be so kind as to… maybe get that packet of aspirin out of the kitchen cupboard?"

Ichibana smiled softly and climbed to its' feet, grabbing a handful of toilet paper and blowing its' nose noisily before flushing the wad away. "Your wish is my command."

As Ichibana hurried out of the room to fulfill my menial command, I pondered to myself over everything that had happened that night. I had said to Orias, in a joking manner that there is nothing so tiresome as the past except perhaps the future. It seemed to me like a lighthearted thing to say at the time but now it rang with a sharp irony.

That strange and powerful presence which had brought to life the very darkest and dangerous components of my memories and given them form… if this were to assail Tsuzuki at some point too, I could only imagine what horrors he would be forced to face. His past was a violent and terrible thing, with devastating memories, plagued by his own pervasive feelings of guilt, anger and trauma. It would make my own nightmares look like a cakewalk in comparison and what I had endured after I had chased down that boy was nothing short of a horrendous. What manner of darkness would he be forced to confront? And would his fragile mind be able to cope with it without fracturing into pieces once again? He had barely survived the subtle reminder of his past in Kyoto; to see it physically brought to life before his very eyes would no doubt destroy him.

In the last two nights, so much had changed for me already. What would happen once I left for Kyoto? Would the darkness follow me there? Would I receive the answers to those questions I had, left unspoken for so long?

Who could say. The future was indeterminable. And that was perhaps why it was the most tiresome thing of all. One meager drop falls away to become instances of time, faded to nothing in the briefest of moments; lost and inscrutable. Disillusioned seconds of thoughts and fears and foundling desires, all coveted and yet so easily remised. Nothing, not even the lives of those of us eternal, could escape this ever sparse and harsh reality.

_I have been one, acquainted with the night_

_I have walked out in rain_

_And back in rain_

_I have out walked the furthest city light_

_I have looked down the saddest city lane_

_I have passed by the watchman on his beat_

_And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain_

_I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet_

_When far away an interrupted cry _

_Came over houses from another street_

_But not to call me back or say goodbye_

_And further still at an unearthly height_

_A luminary clock against the sky_

_Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right_

_I have been one, acquainted with the night_

_**- Robert Frost**_

_**- EC -**_

**i. Yes, Ichibana was watching **_**'The Bachelor'.**_

_**ii. Matsuya Esplanade: **_**Now, I know you'll find this hard to believe but not actually a real street. So don't go looking for it!**

_**iii. Sen: **_**1/100 of a single yen.**

_**iv: Vampires: **_**I know, it sounds like I'm picking on them. (God forbid). The way it is structured in **_**DA **_**however, is that demons don't like humans because of most of the reasons Orias outlined towards the end. But they **_**really **_**hate Vampires because they are bloodthirsty, immortal humans with advanced strength and other abilities that make them even more of a threat. Demons think that human beings are too ignorant and dangerous to be given greater power and vampires represent the very worst of power corrupted. I'm of the same opinion myself. **_**Twilight **_**or no **_**Twilight.**_

_**v. PTSD: Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder.**_

_**vi. The voice: **_**It is said that most people don't recognize their own voice when they hear it out of context.**

_**vii. Legless mannequin: **_**Reference of course to Watari's ex-wife, who lost her legs after they were badly damaged in a car accident.**

_**viii. The Mirror Room: **_**Yes, a reference to that particular scene in Silent Hill 3 that scared so many people. Gotta love it!**

_**A/N: Well, thanks so much for reading everyone and as always, I appreciate the support I have received even when I'm completely inconsistent and unreliable! Chapters will continue to be re-written and updated now that this huge heifer is out of the way! Please leave a review if you enjoyed and let me know your thoughts, opinions and idea's! Arigato! **_


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